But presently, as Sheridan sat
staring angrily at the fire, the shuffling of a pair of slippers
could be heard descending, and Mrs. Sheridan made her appearance,
her oblique expression and the state of her toilette being those of
a person who, after trying unsuccessfully to sleep on one side, has
got up to look for burglars.
"Papa!" she exclaimed, drowsily. "Why'n't you go to bed? It must be
goin' on 'leven o'clock!"
She yawned, and seated herself near him, stretching out her hands to
the fire. "What's the matter?" she asked, sleep and anxiety striving
sluggishly with each other in her voice. "I knew you were worried all
dinner-time. You got something new on your mind besides Jim's bein'
taken away like he was. What's worryin' you now, papa?"
"Nothin'."
She jeered feebly. "N' tell ME that! You sat up to see Bibbs, didn't
you?"
"He starts in at the shop again to-morrow morning," said Sheridan.
"Just the same as he did before?"
"Just pre-CISELY!"
"How--how long you goin' to keep him at it, papa?" she asked, timidly.
"Until he KNOWS something!" The unhappy man struck his palms
together, then got to his feet and began to pace the room, as was his
wont when he talked.
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