"What actor?" asked the master.

"Him as wears the shiny hat. And hair. And gold pin. And gold chain,"
said the just Aristides, putting periods for commas to eke out his
breath.

The master put on his gloves and hat, feeling an unpleasant tightness
in his chest and thorax, and walked out in the road. Aristides trotted
along by his side, endeavoring to keep pace with his short legs to the
master's strides, when the master stopped suddenly, and Aristides bumped
up against him. "Where were they talking?" asked the master, as if
continuing the conversation.

"At the Arcade," said Aristides.

When they reached the main street the master paused. "Run down home,"
said he to the boy. "If Mliss is there, come to the Arcade and tell me.
If she isn't there, stay home; run!" And off trotted the short-legged
Aristides.

The Arcade was just across the way--a long, rambling building containing
a barroom, billiard room, and restaurant. As the young man crossed the
plaza he noticed that two or three of the passers-by turned and looked
after him. He looked at his clothes, took out his handkerchief, and
wiped his face before he entered the barroom. It contained the usual
number of loungers, who stared at him as he entered. One of them looked
at him so fixedly and with such a strange expression that the master
stopped and looked again, and then saw it was only his own reflection in
a large mirror. This made the master think that perhaps he was a little