"Harriet," I said, "I'm going on a great adventure. I'll tell you all
about it to-morrow."

"Nonsense," said Harriet.

It is this way with the fancies of the evening--they often look flat and
flabby and gray the next morning. Quite impossible! But if I'd acted on
half the good and grand schemes I've had o' nights I might now be quite
a remarkable person.

I went about my work the next morning just as usual. I even avoided
looking at the little roll of tape on the corner of the mantel as I went
out. It seemed a kind of badge of my absurdity. But about the middle of
the fore-noon, while I was in my garden, I heard a tremendous racket up
the road. Rattle--bang, zip, toot! As I looked up I saw the boss
lineman and his crew careering up the road in their truck, and the bold
driver was driving like Jehu, the son of Nimshi. And there were ladders
and poles clattering out behind, and rolls of wire on upright spools
rattling and flashing in the sunshine, and the men of the crew were
sitting along the sides of the truck with hats off and hair flying as
they came bumping and bounding up the road. It was a brave thing to see
going by on a spring morning!

As they passed, whom should I see but Bill himself, at the top of the
load, with a broad smile on his face. When his eye fell on me he threw
up one arm, and gave me the railroad salute.

"Hey, there!" he shouted.

"Hey there, yourself," I shouted in return--and could not help it.