"Gracious king! go and find out," he
roared. "Whoever 'tis 'll die of old age before you get there."
The slow smile drifted over Mr. Winslow's face. "Probably if I
wait and give 'em a chance they'll come in here and have apoplexy
instead," he said. "That seems to be the fashionable disease this
afternoon. They won't stay out there and be lonesome; they'll come
in here where it's private and there's a crowd. Eh? Yes, here
they come."
But the newest visitor did not come, like the others, uninvited
into the "private" room. Instead he knocked on its door. When
Winslow opened it he saw a small boy with a yellow envelope in his
hand.
"Hello, Josiah," hailed Jed, genially. "How's the president of the
Western Union these days?"
The boy grinned bashfully and opined the magnate just mentioned was
"all right." Then he added:
"Is Mr. Babbitt here? Mr. Bearse--Mr. Gabe Bearse--is over at the
office and he said he saw Mr. Babbitt come in here."
"Yes, he's here. Want to see him, do you?"
"I've got a telegram for him."
Mr. Babbitt himself came forward and took the yellow envelope.
After absently turning it over several times, as so many people do
when they receive an unexpected letter or message, he tore it open.
Winslow and Captain Sam, watching him, saw his face, to which the
color had returned in the last few minutes, grow white again.
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