and make things fast," said Harkutt, dubiously. Before his guests had
time to fully weigh this delicate hint, another gust of wind shook the
tenement, and even forced the unbolted upper part of the door to yield
far enough to admit an eager current of humid air that seemed to justify
the wisdom of Harkutt's suggestion. Billings slowly and with a sigh
assumed a sitting posture in the chair. The biscuit-nibbler selected a
fresh dainty from the counter, and Wingate abstractedly walked to the
window and rubbed the glass. Sky and water had already disappeared
behind a curtain of darkness that was illuminated by a single point of
light--the lamp in the window of some invisible but nearer house--which
threw its rays across the glistening shallows in the road. "Well," said
Wingate, buttoning up his coat in slow dejection, "I reckon I oughter
be travelin' to help the old woman do the chores before supper." He had
just recognized the light in his own dining-room, and knew by that sign
that his long-waiting helpmeet had finally done the chores herself.

"Some folks have it mighty easy," said Billings, with long-drawn
discontent, as he struggled to his feet. "You've only a step to go,
and yer's me and Peters there"--indicating the biscuit-nibbler, who was
beginning to show alarming signs of returning to the barrel again--"hev
got to trapse five times that distance."

"More'n half a mile, if it comes to that," said Peters, gloomily. He
paused in putting on his overcoat as if thinking better of it, while
even the more fortunate and contiguous Wingate languidly lapsed against
the counter again.

The moment was a critical one. Billings was evidently also regretfully
eying the chair he had just quitted. Harkutt resolved on a heroic
effort.