"You know
him, don't you?"
Receiving no reply, and turning to ascertain the cause of his silence, I
saw he was leaning out at the open window, gazing earnestly northward
toward Baltimore Street.
"Thomas! Thomas!" I shouted.
He heard me at last, and withdrawing his head, apologized for his
inattention.
"I thought--I heehed sup'n nutha like a hollehin' kine of a noise,
an'--some guns, aw sup'n, an' I wuz look'n' to see, but thaih don't
'peah to be nuthin' goin' on."
"They're mending the railroad on Baltimore Street," I said. "I suppose
that is what you heard." And I gave the papers into his hand repeating
my directions: "If the gentleman is not there, don't leave them on any
account. I'll wait here until you get back--but go first to the
post-office and mail these."
He wrapped the papers carefully in his handkerchief, placed them in his
vest-pocket, and started off.
After he left, I leaned my elbow on the dusty window-sill and lounged
there awhile, watching him as he trotted busily down the deserted
street; then, rousing myself, I stretched my weary limbs and set about
arranging my desk, closing the safe, etc. At last everything was put in
order, and I seated myself in an arm-chair, rubbing my cramped fingers
and wrist, and afterward consulting my watch, more for something to do
than to ascertain the time, which the clock on the mantel-piece would
have told me.
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