loose the gossips--after all, it is her matter. If Esther Lockwin
desire to see George Harpwood in the day-time, in the evening--all the
time--so be it.

Is it the bright face of Esther Lockwin that spurs Corkey to his grand
enterprise? What has kept the short man so many months in silence?
Why is it he has never gotten beyond the matter of the lounge in the
fore-cabin of the Africa? This afternoon he will speak. It is a good
scheme. It can be fixed--especially by a woman.

"She can stand it if he can," says Corkey, who reckons on the
resurrection of David Lockwin.

So the face that was dark at State street becomes self-satisfied at
Prairie avenue. Corkey is picturesque as he raps his cane on the
marble stairs.

"Bet your sweet life none of this don't scare me!" he soliloquizes,
touching the stateliness of the premises.

He enters. He comes forth later, meeting another caller in the
vestibule. It is a dark face that the Commodore carries to the bedside
of David Lockwin, around on State street.

Corkey sits down. Then he stands up. He concludes he will not talk,
but it is a false conclusion. He will talk on the patient's case.

"How slow you git on, old man."

"Not at all. I am getting well," is the cheerful reply. Corkey is in