He tried to say something; he could only make a husky noise in his throat.
“Good night!” said Sewell pressing his hand with both of his again, at the door. “We shall come very soon.”
“Married!” said Mrs. Sewell, when he returned to her; and then she suffered a silence to ensue, in which it seemed to Sewell that his inculpation was visibly accumulating mountains vast and high. “What did you say?”
“Nothing,” he answered almost gaily; the case was so far beyond despair. “What should you have said?”
XXXIV.
Lemuel got a conductor's overcoat and cap at half-price from a man who had been discharged, and put by the money saved to return to Sewell when he should come. He entered upon his duties the next morning, under the instruction of an old conductor, who said, “Hain't I seen you som'ere's before?” and he worked all day, taking money and tickets, registering fares, helping ladies on and off the car, and monotonously journeying back and forth over his route. He went on duty at six o'clock in the morning, after an early breakfast that 'Manda Grier and his mother got him, for Statira was not strong enough yet to do much, and he was to be relieved at eight. At nightfall, after two half-hour respites for dinner and tea, he was so tired that he could scarcely stand.
“Well, how do you like it, as fur's you've gone?” asked the instructing conductor, in whom Lemuel had recognised an old acquaintance. “Sweet life, ain't it? There! That switch hain't worked again! Jump off, young man, and put your shoulder to the wheel!”
The car had failed to take the right-hand turn where the line divided; it had to be pushed back, and while the driver tugged and swore under his breath at his horses, Lemuel set himself to push the car.
“'S no use!” said the driver finally. “I got to hitch 'em on at the other end, and pull her back.”