'Look here,' cried Humphrey. 'Don't you go showing that——'
But the only reply was the noisy slam of the screen door.
Face set, eyes wild behind their glasses, Henry hurried down Simpson Street toward the post-office.
Miss Hemple, at the money-order window, said that Mr Boice was having a talk with Mr Waterhouse in the back office and wasn't to be disturbed.
Henry turned away. For a little time he studied the weather-chart hanging on the wall. He went to the wide front window and gazed out on the street. His determination was already oozing away. He found himself slouching and straightened up. Repeatedly he had to do this. Four times he went back to the money-order window; four times Miss Hemple smiled and shook her head.
Martha Caldwell walked by with the two Smith girls. He thought she saw him. If so, she carefully avoided a direct glance. They still weren't speaking. At least, Martha wasn't. And to think that during three long years, except for another episode now and than, she had been his girl!
Heigh-ho! No more girls! He was through!
The Ames's carriage rolled fly. Mary Ames was in it. And—apparently, unmistakably—the new girl. The girl of the Sunbury House veranda. She was chatting brightly. She was pretty.
He turned mournfully away. She was not for him. Once it might have been possible—back in his gay big days. But not now. Not now.
He approached the window for the sixth time. For the sixth time, Miss Hemple shook her head.