Honeycutt, I confided to her that he sent to Chicago for his ear-trumpet and that it cost twelve dollars. If I did this, she must have made a suitable response, though I retain nothing of it.
I only know that the sky was full of flaming meteors, that golden star dust rained upon us from an applauding heaven, that the earth rocked gently as we trod upon it.
Down the wonderful street we went, a strange street shimmering in mystic light—and then I was opening her gate. I afterward decided that surely at this moment, with the gate between us, I would have remembered—superbly would I have said, "How do you like it here?—as well as you did back East?"
But two staring boys passed us, and one of them spoke thus:—
"There's Horsehead Blake—hello, Horsehead!"
"That ain't old Horsehead," said the other.
"'Tis, too—ain't that you, Horsehead?"
"How do you do, boys!" I answered loftily, and they passed on appeased.
"Do they call you Horsehead?" she asked.
"Oh, yes!" I replied brightly. "It's a funny name, isn't it?" and I laughed murderously.
"Yes, it's very funny."
"Well, I'll have to be going now. Good night!"
"Good night!"
And she left me staring after her, the whole big world and its starry heavens crying madly within me to be said to her.
