“If I am,” replied Bartley, “just mention it.”
“Good!” said Kinney. “To-morrow it is, then.”
Bartley finished addressing the newspapers, and then he put them up in wrappers and packages for the mail. “You can go, now, Marilla,” he said to the girl. “I'll leave some copy for you and Kitty; you'll find it on my table in the morning.”
“All right,” answered the girl.
Bartley went to his supper, which he ate with more relish than he had felt for his meals since his troubles began, and he took part in the supper-table talk with something of his old audacity. The change interested the lady boarders, and they agreed that he must have had a letter. He returned to his office, and worked till nine o'clock, writing and selecting matter out of his exchanges. He spent most of the time in preparing the funny column, which was a favorite feature in the Free Press. Then he put the copy where the girls would find it in the morning, and, leaving the door unlocked, took his way up the street toward Squire Gaylord's.
He knew that he should find the lawyer in his office, and he opened the office door without knocking, and went in. He had not met Squire Gaylord since the morning of his dismissal, and the old man had left him for the past eight days without any sign as to what he expected of Bartley, or of what he intended to do in his affair.
They looked at each other, but exchanged no sort of greeting, as Bartley, unbidden, took a chair on the opposite side of the stove; the Squire did not put down the book he had been reading.
“I've come to see what you're going to do about the Free Press,” said Bartley.
The old man rubbed his bristling jaw, that seemed even lanker than when Bartley saw it last. He waited almost a minute before he replied, “I don't know as I've got any call to tell you.”
“Then I'll tell you what I'm going to do about it,” retorted Bartley. “I'm going to leave it. I've done my last day's work on that paper. Do you think,” he cried, angrily, “that I'm going to keep on in the dark, and let you consult your pleasure as to my future? No, sir! You don't know your man quite, Mr. Gaylord!”