She called the
dog, but he would not come; he was crouched with his head on his
fore-paws, watching Starke.
"It is curious how the dog follows him," she said, after she had gone
out, to Andy, who was in the back porch, watching the rain come up.
"I've noticed animals did it to him. My Jerry knows him as well as me.
What chances has he, Miss?"
"I cannot tell."
There was a pause.
"You heard Dr. Bowdler say he was married. Do you know his wife?" she
asked.
Some strange doubts had been in Andy's brain for the last hour, but he
never told a secret.
"It was in the market I come, to know Mr. Starke," he said, confusedly.
"At the eatin'-stalls. He never said to me as he hed a wife."
The rain was heavy and constant when it came, a muddy murkiness in the
air that bade fair to last for a day or more. Evening closed in rapidly.
Andy sat still on the porch; he could shuffle his heels as he pleased
there, and take a sly bit of tobacco, watching, through a crack between
the houses, the drip, drip, of rain on the umbrellas going by, the lamps
beginning to glow here and there in the darkness, listening to the soggy
footfalls and the rumble of the streetcars.
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