"I've got something better than that--you know old man Plunkett?"

Everybody simultaneously spat at the stove, and nodded his head.

"You know he went home three years ago?" Two or three changed the
position of their legs from the backs of different chairs; and one man
said, "Yes."

"Had a good time, home?"

Everybody looked cautiously at the man who had said, "Yes;" and he,
accepting the responsibility with a faint-hearted smile, said, "Yes,"
again, and breathed hard. "Saw his wife and child--purty gal?" said
Abner cautiously. "Yes," answered the man doggedly. "Saw her photograph,
perhaps?" continued Abner Dean quietly.

The man looked hopelessly around for support. Two or three, who had been
sitting near him, and evidently encouraging him with a look of interest,
now shamelessly abandoned him and looked another way. Henry York flushed
a little, and veiled his gray eyes. The man hesitated, and then with a
sickly smile, that was intended to convey the fact that he was perfectly
aware of the object of this questioning, and was only humoring it from
abstract good feeling, returned, "Yes," again.

"Sent home--let's see--ten thousand dollars, wasn't it?" Abner Dean went
on. "Yes," reiterated the man with the same smile.

"Well, I thought so," said Abner quietly. "But the fact is, you see,
that he never went home at all--nary time."