"We are going to keep her all summer if we can," said Minnie, weaving her
arm about her friend's waist. "You'll come in the morning?"

"Good-night, Miss Sherwood," he returned, hilariously. "It has been such a
pleasure to meet you. Thank you so much for saving my life. It was very
good of you indeed. Yes, in the morning. Good-night--good-night." He shook
hands with them all again, including Mr. Todd, who was going with him.

He laughed most of the way home, and Mr. Todd walked at his side in
amazement. The Herald Building was a decrepit frame structure on Main
Street; it had once been a small warehouse and was now sadly in need of
paint. Closely adjoining it, in a large, blank-looking yard, stood a low
brick cottage, over which the second story of the warehouse leaned in an
effect of tipsy affection that had reminded Harkless, when he first saw
it, of an old Sunday-school book wood-cut of an inebriated parent under
convoy of a devoted child. The title to these two buildings and the blank
yard had been included in the purchase of the "Herald"; and the cottage
was Harkless's home.

There was a light burning upstairs in the "Herald" office. From the street
a broad, tumble-down stairway ran up on the outside of the building to the
second floor, and at the stairway railing John turned and shook his
companion warmly by the hand.

"Good-night, William," he said. "It was plucky of you to join in that
muss, to-night. I shan't forget it."

"I jest happened to come along," replied the other, drowsily; then, with a
portentous yawn, he asked: "Ain't ye goin' to bed?"