What would the end be? he asked, and disheartened by
the question, tore the paper into bits and walked moodily up and down the
room. He had lived so blithely until to-day! His lines had fallen so
smoothly in the pleasant places! Not without a grim humour he remembered
now that last year his grievance had been that his tailor failed to fit
him. Last year he had walked the floor in a rage because of a wrinkled
coat, and to-day--His road had gone rough so suddenly that he stumbled like
a blind man when he tried to go over it in his old buoyant manner.
An hour later he was still pacing restlessly to and fro, when the door
softly opened and Mrs. Hicks looked in upon him with a deprecating smile.
As she lingered on the threshold, he stopped in the middle of the room and
threw her a sharp glance over his shoulder.
"Is there anything you wish?" he questioned irritably.
Shaking her head, she came slowly toward him and stood in her soiled
wrapper and curl papers, where the gray light from the latticed window fell
full upon her.
"It ain't nothin'," she answered hurriedly. "Nothin' except Jack's been
tellin' me you're in trouble, Mr. Dan."
"Then he has been telling you something that concerns nobody but myself,"
he replied coolly, and continued his walking.
There was a nervous flutter of her wrapper, and she passed her knotted hand
over her face.
"You are like yo' mother, Mr. Dan," she said with an unexpectedness that
brought him to a halt.
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