"That was worth while, boy. How Ellis would have written it up!"
Jap smiled, but the sting was still there. When it was evident that Bill and Rosy expected to spend the evening, he arose with a tired, "Well, I'll be going," and walked around the cottage to the alley gate. He was afraid of meeting some one on Spring street, and he made excuse to his own consciousness that the alley had always been the rational highway between the cottage and the office. He put his hand in his pocket for his key, as he emerged on Main street.
As he approached the door, he saw that some one was sitting on the steps. She sprang up and laid trembling hands on his arm.
"Oh, Jap, you won't mind! You won't let it hurt you? Everybody knows that you are the best-looking man in town. At least I—think so!"
Before he could grasp her arm, the girl was gone. That night Jap lay awake long hours, thinking, thinking. With the morning, reason returned. He had assumed responsibility for Flossy and the boy. He must not think again.
And indeed the next few days gave him little time for thought. Wat Harlow slipped into the office late one afternoon. He wore a furtive look and an appearance of guilt. There was about him a suggestion of gum shoes. Something must be amiss.
"I want to see you alone, Jap," he confessed.
Jap led the way to the little private office. Harlow was pulling nervously at the stubby mustache that hid his short upper lip.
"In trouble, Wat?" asked Jap anxiously.
"No—not exactly. You see, it's this way——" He coughed apologetically. "The wife had a dream, a funny dream, the other night. She's had curious dreams ever since we took that long trip, to New York and all over, last year, and there may be nothing to it, but——" He lit a fresh cigar, and went at it again. "She says that she saw me going into the Capitol at Washington just as if I belonged there. And she got a notion—— Jap, you know how notionate women are. She thinks—well, she thinks that I might be called to run for the House of Representatives."