"You can go back to-morrow and find out," came from the porch.
"Good-night, Mr. Weston," returned my brother sharply.
Perry Thomas parted from us at the gate, and we stood watching his
retreating figure till we lost it at the bend. Then we went in.
Standing at the foot of the stairs, with a lighted candle in his hand,
Tim turned suddenly to me and said, "I thought you were going to see
Weston."
"I thought you were sitting at home waiting for me to get back," I
retorted.
"Can I help you upstairs?" he said.
"No, I'm going to sit awhile and smoke," I answered jauntily, "and
talk--to Captain."
VII
Tim was leaving the valley. We tied his tin trunk on the back of the
buggy and he climbed to the seat beside me. Tip Pulsifer handed him a
great cylindrical parcel, bound in a newspaper, and my brother held it
reverently in his lap; for it was a chocolate cake, six layers high,
that Mrs. Tip had baked from the scanty contents of the Pulsifer flour
barrel. Tim was going to the city, and all the city people Mrs.
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