"He
seems to have the gift of lighting on his feet. But I'll tell him
how peremptory you are, Miss Vane."
"Well, upon my word," cried Mrs. Sewell, when Miss Vane had taken
leave of them in an exaltation precluding every recurrent attempt to
enlighten her as to the true proportions of Lemuel's part in the
fire, "I really believe people like to be made fools of. Why didn't
_you_ tell her, David, that he had done nothing?"
"What would have been the use? She has her own theory of the affair.
Besides, he did do something; he did his duty, and my experience is
that it's no small thing to do. It wasn't his fault that he didn't
do more."
He waited some days for Lemuel to come to him, and he inquired each
time he went to see the Evanses if they knew where he was. But they
had not heard of him since the night of the fire.
"It's his shyness," said Evans; "I can understand how if he thought
he had put me under an obligation he wouldn't come near me--and
couldn't."
Evans was to go out of town for a little while; the proprietors of
the _Saturday Afternoon_ insisted upon his taking a rest, and
they behaved handsomely about his salary. He did not want to go, but
his wife got him away finally, after he had failed in two or three
attempts at writing.
Lemuel did not appear to Sewell till the evening of the day when the
Evanses left town.
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