In the solemn old room he found the Captain
alone and in rather a pleased mood. The old gentleman stood patting and
alining a pile of manuscript. As the mulatto entered he exclaimed:
"Well, here's Peter again!" as if his secretary had been off on a long
journey. Immediately afterward he added, "Peter, guess what I did last
night." His voice was full of triumph.
Peter was thinking about Aunt Rose, and stood looking at the Captain
without the slightest idea.
"I wrote all of this,"--he indicated his manuscript,--"over a hundred
pages."
Peter considered the work without much enthusiasm.
"You must have worked all night."
The old attorney rubbed his hands.
"I think I may claim a touch of inspiration last night, Peter.
Reminiscences rippled from under my pen, propitious words, prosperous
sentences. Er--the fact is, Peter, you will see, when you begin copying,
I had come to a matter--a--a matter of some moment in my life. Every
life contains such moments, Peter. I had meant to write something in the
nature of a defen--an explanation, Peter.
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