But Bishop wasn’t sick. I searched the boat from the back to the stern and he wasn’t aboard. I guess probably he found out some way that they was such an institution as the Père Marquette, which gets into Chicago without touchin’ them perilous copper ranges. But whether he arrived safe or not I don’t know, because I’ve never saw him from that day to this, and I’ve lived happy ever afterward.
And my investment, amountin’ all told to just about what he owes me, turned out even better than I’d hoped for. Bess went back to Wabash that Monday afternoon.
At supper Monday night, which was the first meal the Missus could face, she says:
“I haven’t got it figured out yet. Bess swears they didn’t have no quarrel; but I’ll take an oath they was in love with each other. What could of happened?”
“I know what happened,” I says. “They got acquainted!”