side. I
had asked Bill time and again to take me out to meet his wife, but he
always put me off on one pretext or another.

When I started to work, I had secured a room at the house of a Mrs.
Slade. She had three daughters and one Sunday afternoon we were all out
walking together, when one of them pointed to a very fine residence and
said, "That's the residence of Bill Bradley, the big gambler."

Just then Bill and his wife came driving by behind a spanking team of
bays. Quick as a flash my hat came off, and I bowed low. Bill saw it
and very cavalierly returned my salute. The elder Miss Slade turned on
me like a tigress, and said,

"Mr. Bates, do you know who that man is? Do you know what he is?"

"Yes, I know him very well," I replied.

"Then what do you mean by insulting us by speaking to such a man? I did
not know that you associated with men of his ilk."

In a plain unvarnished way I told them of Bill Bradley's kindness to me,
but it was no go, and as I would not renounce my liking for the man who
had been my benefactor, my room in their house became preferable to my
society and I left.

The next evening I saw Bill in his rooms, and he said,

"Martin, yesterday, when Mrs. Bradley and I drove by you and the Slade
girls, you spoke to me and lifted your hat to Mrs. Bradley. I could do
naught but return the salute. Now my boy, there's no use of my mincing
words with you; I befriended you, probably saved you from ruin, but
young as you are, you know full well that our paths do not lie parallel
with each other. I am a gambler, and although Mrs. Bradley is as good a
woman as ever lived, (and I'd kill the first man that said she wasn't)
we are not recognized by society; no, not even by the riff raff that
live in Hallville. You have your way to carve in the world, don't ruin
it right at the outset by letting people know you are friendly with
gamblers. No matter how good your motives may be, this scoffing world
will always misconstrue them and censure you."

This made me hot and I told him so. No matter if he was a gambler, he
was more of a gentleman than nine-tenths of the men of society, yes,
men, who would come and gamble half the night away in his place, and
then go forth the next day and pose as models of propriety.

The upshot of the whole business was that I left Hallville soon after
this and went to San Antonio to take day report, and one day I picked up
a paper, and read an account of how Bill Bradley had