"If I give you the double percentage, will you stay?"

"I don't know but that I'd rather have the muzzle, Miss Minnie," he
answered slowly, "but--I'll stay. It won't be for long."

Which left me thinking. I'd seen Thoburn talking to Mike more than once
lately, and he'd been going around with an air of assurance that didn't
make me any too cheerful. Evenings, when I'd relieved Amanda King at the
news stand, I'd seen Thoburn examining the woodwork of the windows, and
only the night before, happening on the veranda unexpectedly, I found
Mike and him measuring it with a tape line. As I say, Mike's visit left
me thinking.

The usual crowd came out that afternoon and drank water and sat around
the fire and complained--all except Senator Biggs, who happened in just
as I was pouring melted butter over a dish of hot salted pop-corn.
He stood just inside the door, sniffling, with his eyes fixed on the
butter, and then groaned and went out.

He looked terrible--his clothes hung on him like bags; as the bishop
said, it was ghastly to see a convexity change to such a concavity in
three days.

Mr. Moody won three dollars that day from the slot-machine and was
almost civil to his wife, but old Jennings sat with his foot on a stool
and yelled if anybody slammed the door. Mrs. Hutchins brought him out
with her eyes red and asked me if she could leave him there.

"I'm sorry if I was rude to you the other night, Minnie," she said, "but
I was upset. I'm so worn-out that I'll have to lie down for an hour, and