"Shade," pacified Himes, with a truckling manner that the younger man's
aggressions were apt to call out in him, "you know I don't mean anything
against you, but I believe in my soul I'd ruther sell out the patent.
That man in Lowell said he'd give twenty thousand dollars if it was
proved to work--now didn't he?"
"Yes, and by the time it's proved to work we'll have made three times
that much out of it. There ain't a spinning mill in the country that
won't save money by putting in the indicator, and paying us a good
royalty on it. If Johnnie and me was wedded, I'd go to work to-morrow
advertising the thing."
"The gal ain't in the mill this afternoon, is she?" asked old Himes.
"No, she's gone off somewheres with some folks Hardwick's sister-in-law
has got here. If you want to find her these days, you've got to hunt in
some of the swell houses round on the hills."
He spoke with bitterness, and Pap nodded comprehendingly; the subject
was an old one between them. Then Shade drew from his pocket a letter
and prepared to read it once more to the older man.
"Whar's Johnnie?"
Himes started so violently that he disturbed the equilibrium of his
chair and brought the front legs to the floor with a slam, so that he
sat staring straight ahead. Shade Buckheath whirled and saw Pros
Passmore standing at the foot of the steps--the moving speck come to
full size.
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