Part 9 (2/2)
”A beastly morning,” he remarked, as he began turning up his collar and b.u.t.toning up his coat.
”A very bad morning,” answered John, not with the view of striking up a conversation, but simply to be civil to a stranger.
”Couldn't be worse in h----!” said the stranger, as if talking to himself.
”No; I suppose there is not much water falling in that region,” said John, looking up at the cork-screws of water twisting their way down, and breaking into pieces on the hard pavement.
”I reckon not,” responded the stranger, for the first time turning his dull gray eyes upon John. As John made no further response, the stranger continued: ”What are you doing in here? Looking for a place like this, eh?”
”I merely stopped to await a moderation of the rain,” answered John, innocently, knowing nothing of the character of the place into which the door led.
”Then you are not looking for a joint like this?” said the stranger, eyeing John.
”What kind of a place is it?” asked John.
”Don't you know?”
”Have not the least idea.”
”You must be from the country?”
”Not very long since I came from that indefinite place.”
”Come around some evening and ask for Mike Barton, and you'll find out,”
said the stranger, in a whisper, sizing John up as a likely victim for such an inst.i.tution.
”I never go to a place unless I know of its character first,” returned John.
”Huh, you don't! I pity such greenhorns as you,” flippantly retorted the stranger.
”You scamp!” exclaimed John, hotly, and his dark blue eyes snapped with anger, as the insolent chappy cringed beneath him. ”Don't leer at me, or I will wipe up the streets with you.”
”Now, my dear sir,” replied the stranger, seeing his mistaken opinion of the man he had met; ”don't get angry; I feel a little blue this morning.”
”You should be more courteous, young man, whatever the time, or place, or your state of mind,” answered John.
”I'll heed your advice hereafter,” said the stranger, with a sarcastic smile. ”But take the number and come around sometime, when I'll make amends for this insult, if you choose still to take it as such.”
”Oh, never mind about that; but what did you say your name was?”
”Mike Barton. Your name?”
”John Winthrope.”
”Do you work?” asked Mike.
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