Crow and Mr. Otto Schultz resumed their stroll after a few moments,
and the marshal, following their movements in the reflecting
show-window, waited until they were safely around the corner. Then he
retraced his steps quickly, passed the undertaker's place, and turned
into the alley beyond. Three minutes later, he entered Main Street a
block above Sickle Street, and was leaning carelessly against the Indian
tobacco sign in front of Jackson's cigar store, when his daughter and
her companion bore down upon his left flank.

Mr. Alf Reesling was a few paces behind them.

As they came within earshot, young Schultz was saying in a suspiciously
earnest manner:

"You better come in and have anodder sody, Susie."

Just then their gaze fell upon Mr. Crow.

"Goodness!" exclaimed Susie, startled.

"By cheminy!" fell from Otto's wide-open mouth. He blinked a couple of
times. "Is--is that you?" he inquired, incredulously.

"You mean _me_?" asked Anderson, with considerable asperity.

"Sure," said Otto, halting.

"Can't you see it's me?" demanded Mr. Crow.

"But you ain'd here," said the perplexed young man, getting pinker all
the time. "You're aroundt in Sickle Street."

"Alf!" called out Anderson. "Look here a minute. Is this me?" He spoke
with biting sarcasm.

Mr. Reesling regarded him with some anxiety.

"You better go home, Anderson," he said. "This sun is a derned sight
hotter'n you think."

"Didn't we see you a minute ago around in Sickle Street, Pop?" inquired
Susie. "Looking in that hair-dresser's window?"

"Maybe you did and maybe you didn't," replied Mr. Crow, shrewdly. Then,
with thinly veiled significance: "I'm purty busy lookin' into a good
many things nowadays." He favoured Otto with a penetrating glance. "Ever
sence the U. S. A. declared war on Germany, Mr. Otto Schultz."

"How aboudt that sody, Miss Susie?" said Otto, in a pained sort of
voice.

"You'd better be saving your money, Otto," she advised, with such
firmness that her father looked at her sharply.

"Oh, spiffles!" said Otto, getting still redder.

Mr. Crow was all ears. Alf Reesling burned his fingers on a match he
held too long in the hot, still air some six or eight inches from the
bowl of his pipe.

"Well, getting married is no joke," said Susie, shaking her pretty head
solemnly.

Otto took a deep breath. "You bet you it ain'd," he said, with feeling.
That seemed to give him courage. He took off his straw hat, and, as he
ran h