ll--you could just see that much from where I was standing.
If I'd wanted to go upstairs I might of seen more from our windows; but
I wouldn't do that now.

I went back in the house and stood near our door, watching the street.
In about half or three-quarters of a hour I seen Old Man Wisner's car
coming in; there was lights in the car and I could see him plain. He was
setting with his head kind of bent down. I suppose, like enough, he'd
already been served with them papers of ours down town. He'd got into
town early that morning and been busy all day at his office. He was
just getting home now. He must of knowed he was busted.

I waited for half a hour more, so things could get right settled down
over there, and then I went in and found Old Man Wright. He was setting
still as a dead man, looking into the fireplace in our ranch room,
though there wasn't no fire. He was all dressed up in his evening
clothes; and now I seen why he'd had the barber come. There wasn't a
finer-looking gentleman in all the town than Old Man Wright was right
then--though him pale and sad. Lord, how sad he was! But not
can-nye--none whatever, him, even if Old Lady Wisner had called us all
that.

"He's come, Colonel," says I, quiet, turning from one sad old man to
another sad old man.

I didn't say nothing to him about who else I'd seen in our front yard; I
didn't want to stir him all up, for I knowed he'd marked Bonnie Bell
off'n his books and closed the books for keeps. When I spoke to him he
turns around and stands up, quiet.

"Very well," says he; "we'll go on over now."

So us two walk together out of our front door. He shuts the door then
behind him and we go on down the walk together. He only turns once and
looks back at the house.

The whole street laid there in front of us when we walked out from our
yard to go over into theirs. The lights was all lit now, miles and miles
of 'em; and below us was the hundreds of thousands more of the lights of
the big city--the city that hadn't made us as happy as we thought it was
going to. I heard a boat whistle deep somewheres out on the lake--it
sort of made my stomach tremble.

Over west, beyond our part of the city, you could hear a low sort of
sound like maybe of street cars; but on our side there wasn't anything
but automobiles--thousands of 'em--going along as swift and smooth as
birds. Most of them was going north still; but on the other side of the
street some was going down, maybe w