The shrunken little figure
drooped.
"None of that hiding out!" admonished his judge. "You keep standing
round out here where decent folks can look at you and see what a bad
boy you are."
With a glance she identified me as one of the decent she would have
edified. Jimmie Time muttered evilly in undertones and slouched forward,
head down.
"Ain't he the hostile wretch?" called Buck Devine, who stood with the
horses. He spoke with a florid but false admiration.
Jimmie Time, snarling, turned on him: "You go to--."
I perceived that Lew Wee the night before had delicately indicated by a
mere initial letter a bad word that could fall trippingly from the lips
of Jimmie.
"Sure!" agreed Buck Devine cordially. "And say, take this here telegram
up to the corner of Broadway and Harlem; and move lively now--don't you
stop to read any of them nickel liberries."
I saw what a gentleman should do. I turned my back on the piteous figure
of Jimmie Time. I moved idly off, as if the spectacle of his ignominy
had never even briefly engaged me.
"Shoot up a good cook, will you?" said the lady grimly.
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