"If you please."
As she moved away so lightly and so daintily Kelley stared in
stupefaction. "Guess I've miscalculated somewhere. Old Harf must have
more drag into him than I made out. How did the old seed get a woman
like that? 'Pears like he's the champion hypnotic spieler when it comes
to 'skirts.'"
He hitched-up the horse in profound meditation. For the first time since
his downfall his humiliation seemed just a trifle deeper than was
necessary. He regretted his filthy shirt and his unshorn cheeks, and as
he brought the horse around to the door of the boss's house he slipped
out of the buggy on the off side, hurriedly tethered the mare to the
pole, and retreated to his alley like a rat to its burrow. The few
moments when Anita's clear eyes had rested upon him had been moments of
self-revelation.
"Kelley, you're all kinds of a blankety fool," said he. "You're causing
yourself a whole lot of extra misery and you're a disgustin' object,
besides. It isn't necessary fer you to be a skunk in order to give
yourself a welting. Go now and get a shave and a clean shirt, and start
again."
This he did, and out of his next week's pay he bought a clean pair of
overalls and a new sombrero, so that when he came back to the barn
Harford was disturbed.
"Hope you aren't going to pull out, Kelley? You suit me, and if it's a
question of pay, I'll raise you a couple of dollars on a week."
"Oh no, I'm not leaving. Only I jest felt like I was a little too
measly. 'Pears like I ought to afford a clean shirt. It does make a heap
of difference in the looks of a feller. No, I'm booked to stay with you
fer a while yet."
Naturally thereafter little Mrs. Harford filled a large place in
Kelley's gloomy world. He was not a romantic person, but he was often
lonesome in the midst of his self-imposed penance. He forbade himself
the solace of the saloon. He denied himself a day or even an hour off
duty, and Harford, secretly amazed and inwardly delighted, went so far
one day as to offer him a cigar.