“Not for such a purpose?”

“Exactly so.  It was given to the town by a rich spinster who died about twenty years ago.  It was given in her will on condition that it should not be more than two feet wide.”

“For that reason?”

“Just that reason.  She had been jilted in her youth, and her heart had been wrung by the sight of her rival passing her very window where she sat watching for her lover, arm in arm with him.  It was in summer, and the dirt sidewalk was dry.  She made up her mind, then and there, that that sort of thing should be prevented.”

They had just reached a handsome old house standing close to the narrow sidewalk.  In fact, its windows opened directly upon it.

“This is the house,” the doctor said in corroboration.  James laughed, but he wondered within himself if he were being told fish tales.  Doctor Gordon made him feel so very young that he resented it.  He resented it the more when he realized the new glow of adoration in his heart for that older woman whom they had left behind.  He began wondering about her:  how much older she was.  He said to himself that he did not care if she were old enough to be his mother, his grandmother even, there was no one in the whole world like her.

Then they came to the hotel, the Evarts House.  It was rather pretentious, well built, with great columns in front supporting double verandas.  It was also well lighted.  It was evidently far above the usual order of a road house.  Doctor Gordon entered, with James at his heels.  They went into the great low room at the right of the door, which was the bar-room.  Behind the bar stood an enormous man, yellow haired and yellow bearded, dispensing drinks.  The whole low interior was dim with tobacco smoke, and scented with various liquors and spices.  There was on one side a great fireplace, in which stood earthen pitchers, in which cider was being mulled with red-hot pokers, eager vinous faces watching.  Nobody was intoxicated, but there was a general hum of hilarity and gusto of life about the place, an animal enjoyment of good cheer and jollity.  It was in truth not respectable to get entirely drunk in Alton.  It was genteel to become “set up,” exhilarated, but the real gutter form of inebriety was frowned upon to a much greater extent than in many places where there was less license.

“Hullo!” sang out Doctor Gordon as he entered.  Immediately a grin of comradeship overspread the pink face of the yellow-haired giant behind the bar.  “Hullo!” he responded.  “Just step into the other room, and I’ll be there right away.”