"Oh my gosh, I didn’t mean to, aw heck, I’m sorry," JD blurted.

"Unfortunately," Ezra commented lowly, "you just stated the facts, such as they are." He carried the unconscious child to his bed. "However, I believe there are other facts we need to consider." Laying Kit down, he slipped the boy’s nightshirt over his head. Shocked gasps filled the room. Kit’s young body was covered with bruises, old and new. A row of angry burns from the end of a cigar traced their way across his stomach. Ezra rolled the child over, the buttocks were covered with welts and old scars, and there were small red infected cuts up and down his back.

Nathan reached over and ran his hand over the boy’s right forearm, which was slightly misshapen. "Looks like an old break, must not have been set properly." Carefully, he began to clean and dress the wounds.

Kit whimpered and stirred, opening his eyes suddenly and starting up in fright. Gentle hands pushed him back into the pillows. "Its okay, Kit. We’re going to fix you up." Nathan tried to reassure him. But the terror and stress of the day overwhelmed him and he began to kick and scream. "Please, no, get away, don’t hurt me. Get away. I’ll kill you. No, please." Arms and legs flailed in desperation.

Ezra quickly motioned them back and grabbed flying fists. Using superior strength, he held the boy still. "Kit!" he spoke low and sternly, piercing the blanket of panic covering the child. "Look at me," he demanded. Seeing he had succeeded in getting the exhausted child’s attention. He said intensely. "I will not hurt you. You are safe here. Let us help you."

Ashen lips breathed out. "He’ll lock me up, ha, hang," Kit couldn’t say the words as his breath caught in his throat.

JD, Nathan, and Josiah all began to explain. Ezra cut them off, telling Kit with utter conviction "You are not a criminal or a murderer. We know that you were just trying to protect yourself. Self-defense is not a crime."

Kit looked desperately at their faces and saw them each affirming what Ezra had said. "I am safe?" he asked, through chattering teeth, afraid to even hope that it was true.

Gathering him up tenderly in the quilt, Ezra began to rock him back and forth. "You are safe." Quiet tears flowed as the battered child reached for the comfort that had so long been denied him.

Nathan approached with a mug of herbal tea. "Drink this Kit, it will help." At Ezra’s nod, Kit took the cup and drank it down, grimacing slightly at the taste. Everyone settled back letting the tea and the kindness of compassionate affection soothe Kit’s wounded spirit and body.

It didn’t take long for the little boy to fall into deep sleep. Nathan was then able to dress his cuts and sores and ease his bruises. "Can’t do nothin’ about that arm, would have to break it again. Don’t think I need to put him through that right now. Rest of him should heal up in a couple of weeks," he said, pulling Kit’s nightshirt back on. Ezra lifted him up so Nathan could pull down the covers, and then tucked him under the quilts. Even in his drugged sleep, the youngster clung to the hand that had reached for him in tenderness instead of cruelty.

"Mercy, I forgot about my patrol. Mr. Larabee would not be pleased." Ezra rubbed his hand over his burning eyes.

"No, I think you got that wrong," Josiah patted him on the shoulder. "You did a good piece of work. Me and Nate will take care of any patrolling tonight."

"He should sleep for quite a while," Nathan assured Ezra. "I’ll check him again in the morning. Just let me know if you need anything."

"Thank you, gentlemen. I appreciate this."

"Not a problem. Coming Nathan?"

"Mr. Dunne, is there something you need?" The gambler watched the young man dally in the doorway.

"Jeez, Ez, I didn’t mean to scare him so bad. I’m sorry. It was a mean and stupid thing to say. He is just a child."

Ezra ran his thumb over his lower lip, weighing carefully what to say. "JD, you are one of the most compassionate and considerate men I have ever known. We all make errors in judgment, but I am sure that this is one you will never repeat. And I know you will find a way to convince Kit of your contrition."

"Thanks Ezra." JD bit his lip, and then asked the question that had puzzled him all evening. "How did you know about, well, you know? He didn’t act hurt. I mean I never saw any bruises or anything, and you didn’t even meet the kid till tonight."

Swallowing hard, Ezra ran his tongue around his dry lips. He never could lie to JD, but the whole truth was not an option. "Lets just say that I took a chance on being right."

"Huh?"

"The behavior y’all described to me, the lack of parental intervention, and my observations of Mr. Jenkins added up to something sinister. His death merely confirmed what I had feared. Mr. Jenkins was a perverted and cruel man. I am only glad that this child had the wherewithal to procure his own deliverance."

JD was somewhat startled. "You mean you’re glad Kit killed him?"

"Indeed, Mr. Dunne. He will never have cause to doubt his courage or valor. Now, sir, I believe you have duties to attend to in the morning, and it is getting rather late. Good night."

"Good night, Ezra."

*******

A soft breeze wafted across the flushed cheeks of the sleeping child and brought with it awareness to the man dozing in the chair beside the bed. "Its okay, you can stop playing opossum."

"Morning." Eyes blinked open.

"Good morning, young man. How are you?"

Memory and realization swept over Kit’s face. Cheeks stained with shame, he worried his bottom lip with his teeth before replying hesitantly, "fine?"

Understanding, Ezra patted his hand gently. "No, but you will be. Now, young sir, I do not believe we have been properly introduced, Ezra Standish, at your service." Ezra stood up and sketched a bow.

Kit giggled but sobered quickly as he looked around. "Where am I?"

"You sir, are residing in my humble abode, directly adjacent to, I may add, the saloon." Which my conniving mother owns he added silently.

"I ah, I need, I mean I have to…."

"Yes, of course." Ezra nodded his head under the bed. "I tell you what. Let me procure fresh attire for you, while you tend to your morning ablutions, then we shall secure some sustenance."

"I hope that means breakfast!"

A half-hour later found the clean-shaven gambler and freshly scrubbed boy descending the steps into the saloon. As they made their way over to join Josiah and Nathan, Ezra kept a firm grip on Kit’s hand. "Gentlemen, may we join you?"

Seeing the friendly smiles, and pulled out chairs, Kit relaxed and soon a plate of eggs and ham found it’s way to him. Light conversation floated over his bent head as he plied his fork to great effect. Drinking down the last of the cider in his glass, he returned the smiles of the three men. "Thank you, Mr. Standish. I was really hungry."

"You are quite welcome, Master Baral."

Josiah leaned forward slightly to ask the boy, "Son, do you know when your mother is supposed to arrive?"

"She’s not really coming. I sort of made that up." Kit answered boldly, though he scooted closer to Ezra.

"Gentlemen, I think perhaps that we need to take this discussion elsewhere, perhaps the church would be amenable Mr. Sanchez." At his nod, Ezra turned to Nathan. "Would you ask Mr. Dunne to join us?"

Once everyone had settled, Ezra put his arm around the nervous little boy sitting beside him. "Kit we need you to tell us the truth. No one here is going to hurt you, and we need to get everything straightened out. We still have to talk to the Judge and tell him what happened. We are here to help you, but you have to do your part. Do you understand."?

"Yes, sir."

"Good man."

Kit sighed, and stared at the floor for a long time. Finally, he looked up and began to speak. "Well, my mother was supposed to meet us here and take me to go live with my father on his horse ranch. Then she sent a message saying that the plans had changed, and not to come, that my father wasn’t ready for us yet. I really wanted to live with my father again. I haven’t seen him in so long I can’t even remember what he looks like. Jenkins didn’t know about the second message, he was out when it came, so I ripped it up. I thought I could find my mother anyway, and if I were here, she wouldn’t send me away. " He shook his head sadly, "Jenkins found out."

"Is that when he beat you son?" Nathan asked.

"No, he was always hurting me anyway, said I was bad, just like my father. But last night, he…" Kit stopped as the memory began to overwhelm him and began crying.

Ezra reached over and pulled Kit onto his knee. "You’re safe. He can’t hurt you anymore." They waited quietly while he tried to stop crying.

"He said he was going to kill me like he should have in the first place and then he was going to kill my father," Kit blurted sobbing, "so I shot him."

"Where did you get the gun?" JD wondered.

Sobbing harder, Kit confessed. "Stole it from some guy on the stagecoach. Jenkins was always saying that he was going to kill me some day and burn me up so there’d be nothing left. Nobody would ever know and nobody would ever care."

"Didn’t you tell you mother?" JD was shocked that anyone would threaten a child with such awful things.

"She laughed and told me that he wouldn’t ever kill me cause I was worth more to him alive then dead and that he owed her. I even told her that he hated my father, but she said that was her in, insurance. Then she went away and I haven’t seen her since."

"Good Lord," Ezra studied the weeping child. He had no doubt that the boy had told the truth, such as it was, but something here bore closer inspection. Years of dealing in deception and deceit had honed detective skills that he would employ as soon as he got the boy to settle down. He sure as hell knew half-truths when he heard them. Rubbing his thumb over his lip, the master of pretense pondered; who was telling the truth and who the lies in this scenario, Kit or his mother?

*******

He soon found out that getting Kit to settle down was a losing proposition. Much to his exasperation the con man discovered Kit was a tenacious and resourceful child. "You, sir, are a rapscallion!" he firmly removed the cigar from Kit’s mouth as JD came bursting into the saloon.

"Hey JD," Kit greeted him. "Want a smoke?"

"What!" JD crashed into the chair looking at the boy beside him in disbelief.

Ezra patted his arm in sympathy. "Seems Mr. Baral has more tricks than a New Orleans wh…er … um, huckster."

"Want to play cards, JD?"

JD met Ezra’s eyes and saw the mute appeal. "Sure, Kit. Let me talk to Ez a minute then I’ll play with you. Why don’t you go ask Inez for some sarsaparilla."

"Wow, thanks JD." Kit glanced at his erstwhile guardian and receiving permission made his way over to the long-suffering bar maid.

The young sheriff smiled indulgently at the little scalawag. "That kid is a piece of work."

"I assure you, Mr. Dunne, the architecture of that youngster defies gravity, as well as most of the other natural laws known to man."

"Huh?"

"He is indeed a piece of work, and one that I confess is totally exhausting. I find myself longing for a nice quiet gunfight."

"Ah, come on Ez, he’s not that bad."

"Perhaps you are right, compared to say Attila the Hun or maybe Genghis Khan."

JD couldn’t help but laugh at the exasperation in Ezra’s voice. "You can’t fool me! You love every minute. The two of you are thick as thieves. He couldn’t be more like you if he were your own son. I believe that boy worships the ground you walk on."

The Southern gentleman drew himself up and sternly fixed piercing eyes on his fellow peacemaker. The young man began to grow a trifle uncomfortable under his gaze. After letting the sheriff squirm under his scrutiny for a few moments, Ezra clasped JD lightly on the shoulder. "Mr. Dunne you are absolutely correct."

Watching as Inez and Kit laughed together, the consummate silver-tongued con man confessed in a rare moment of complete honesty, "I am singularly fond that child. I wish he were mine." Green eyes softened with old regret, "I shall endeavor to do everything in my power to keep him here for as long as he should desire to stay."

The determination and passion in his friend’s eyes heartened JD, and he smiled, "Well, Judge Travis is all for that, here I meant to give you these before."

Scanning the three telegrams quickly, Standish was satisfied. Judge Travis foresaw no problems with letting Kit stay under the gambler’s watchful eye until the inquest. The Judge planned to arrive on the Friday stage. From the second message, he noted that Chris, Buck and Vin were on their way back and should arrive by Friday also. It appeared their mission was not profitable. The final missive was from the headmaster at Kit’s boarding school. It was more cryptic than he would have liked, but it assured the ‘esteemed judicial assistant’ from Four Corners that the information he requested would be arriving directly by post on the next stage.

"Can we play now?" Kit draped himself over Ezra’s shoulder and flashed his dimples. Grabbing the youngster around the middle, Ezra shook him gently upside down eliciting hearty contagious laughter that soon had all the mid-day patrons smiling into their beers. Plopping him down in the chair beside JD, the trickster was soon pulling cards from behind ears and under chins. Settling beside them, gold tooth gleaming, Ezra said, "So gentlemen, what will it be?"

"Where they headed?" Nathan gestured with his thumb at the retreating backs of Kit and Ezra as they rode out of town.

The sheriff leaned back in the chair sitting in front of the jail. "To quote Ezra ‘for an extended tour of the desolate region that surrounds our recently unreceptive metropolis’, I think he’s tryin’ to wear the kid out."

"My money’s on Kit. I believe Brother Standish has met his match." Josiah chuckled as he stretched out on the boardwalk.

"Mighty good idea for them to stay clear of Miz Travis for a while." Nathan shook his head, "Damn fool stunt that hellion pulled."

"Well, I don’t know Nathan, he almost got it to work."

Nathan sputtered in indignation at Josiah. "Work! First of all neither of those two know a thing about work. Them two scalawags were cut out of the same piece of cloth. Secondly, do you realize that rascal could have gotten Billy Travis’ neck broke?"

"Guess nobody ever told him that boys can’t fly," Josiah chuckled at his old friend. "I don’t really think he meant any harm."

"Tell that to Mrs. O’Malley’s chickens," Nathan commented irritably. "For Pete’s sake, I got all the tending I can handle without Ezra’s little scoundrel adding to it with his hair brained schemes. What ever inspired that child to plaster up Billy Travis with chicken feathers and convince him to jump off the top of the hayloft in the livery? It was the devil’s own luck that you happened to go in there when you did. Where the hell was Ezra anyway?"

JD snorted. "He was busy trying to convince Inez that those rather passionate love letters she’d gotten weren’t really from him." JD grinned evilly. "He spitted and sputtered for a quarter of an hour. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ezra so shaken. Every time he opened his mouth, he just changed feet. First he tried to tell her that a gentleman would have never thought about a barmaid in that way. Then he tried to fix that seein’ as it didn’t come out too good by telling her that of course, some men would find her more than attractive. Oh my gosh, Inez took him a flying. He tried to fix that one by sayin’ that he was one of those men too, but that he really hadn’t meant what the letters said. Well, he did, but he truly hadn’t written them. When he told her Kit fessed up, she really got mad, She said no child could have written that stuff. Then Ezra agreed with her and tried to tell her that Kit copied it from some book. Old Ez, just took one look at her face after that and high-tailed it out of there."

Josiah joined JD in raucous laughter, "Then he ran into Miz Travis. Poor Ezra." Even Nathan joined in, remembering the totally bewildered look on Ezra’s face.

"Wonder just what was in those letters," Josiah mused.

"Well, fellas, " JD slapped his chest lightly, then reached into his the pocket of his breast coat, "Got ‘em right here."

Seeing their joint looks of anticipation and approval, the self-satisfied sheriff handed out the racy missives to his comrades.

*******

Two pensive horsemen ambled quietly along the banks of the lazy river. Low hanging boughs made for a cool and shady respite from the heat of the day. Kit kept casting wary sidelong glances at his mentor. The two had not exchanged more than a handful of words since the escapade in the livery. Kit didn’t know what to make of this uncharacteristic silence. The youngster figured that the gamesman was mad at him and this deadly stillness frightened him.

Ezra was angry, but even more he was unsure. Exactly how do you communicate discipline to a child who’d been neglected and abused? How do you bring consequences to bear without making him think that you didn’t care or worse that you desired his pain? Obviously, Kit was largely unfamiliar with boundaries of any kind. For his own safety and Ezra’s sanity this situation had to change. But how? The undertaking before him was more intimidating than facing Chris Larabee on his worst day. The bachelor felt woefully inadequate for this task; nonetheless, he was compelled by his affection for the boy to do his best.

Drawing up Chaucer, he dismounted and wandered over to the sheltered bank, knowing the little boy would follow.

"Are you going to beat me?" Kit whispered, fearful of the answer but determined not to let his apprehension show.

Ezra knelt down in front of the boy. Two sets of clear green eyes met. "Never." Ezra said simply, and then enfolded the little child into a tender hug. Feeling the tension leave Kit’s body, he settled down on the grassy slope and rested his arms on his knees.

Kit leaned against his arm. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do anything bad."

"Billy Travis could have been grievously injured."

"We were playing Icarus and Daedelus in the Labyrinth. We just wanted to make wings and fly. Don’t you think it’d be something to fly like a bird?"

Ezra was speechless. Dear Lord. It was all his fault for telling the child stories about ancient Greek heroes. Mercy, how was he to untangle this web?

"Kit, what happened to Icarus?"

"He flew too close to the sun and his wings melted."

"And?"

"He fell out of the sky."

"What happened when he fell out of the sky?"

"He got hurt?"

"You tell me Kit. What happened?"

"He died." Realization swept over the child and he bowed his head as tears overflowed. "I didn’t mean for Billy to get hurt, really I didn’t. I just didn’t think."

"I am cognizant that you certainly did not engage your mental processes through to the obvious conclusion. In fact, your lack of forethought was only surpassed by your thoughtlessness. Unfortunately, this is not the first time. Kit, did you saw Mr. Sanchez’s ladder?"

"Yes."

"Did you consider that he could have been dreadfully wounded?"

"No." Tears were falling faster now.

"And Kit, what about the buckeye’s in the fire? They could have exploded and burned or blinded someone. Then there is that matter with Mr. Dunne. Suppose a gang of malicious bandits had happened upon the town when he was incapacitated?"

"I’m sorry. Really I am, I just didn’t think." Kit sobbed into his hands.

"Son, you must never misuse your God-given gifts." Ezra grimaced to himself, dear Lord I sound just like my mother. "You possess a fine mind, capable and agile; a phenomenal imagination, prodigious creativity and exceptional courage. These talents must not be spent on capricious and impulsive activities. You should be using these endowments for your and other’s edification. Above all, you must not use them to cause hurt or harm to anyone."

Kit stopped crying and turned to look at his hero with wonder. "You really think I’m smart and brave and all that?"

"Yes"

"But you said I was thoughtless." He frowned in puzzlement.

"Yes, you were. Your lack of consideration was hurtful."

"I don’t understand, am I good or am I bad?"

The gambler laughed softly. "That is the question of the ages, my friend. Everyone is a bit of both."

"But you are good." Kit stated with total conviction.

Ezra blinked away the sudden burning in his eyes. "Not always, just sometimes."

The two sat quietly contemplating the slow current of the river and the perplexities of life. Had they been able to see into the other’s heart they would have been amazed at how similar their regrets and secret sorrows were.

Kit sighed. "I have to make things right but I don’t know how."

Ezra looked down at him, Shadows of grief and profound sadness clouded those clear aquamarine eyes. That strange sense of familiarity flitted once more over the man of chance but was gone as quickly as it came.

"I believe I can lend my assistance in rectifying the matter. Shall we? Oh and by the way, in answer to your earlier query, yes, Kit, I think it would be a wondrous and astounding thing to fly like a bird."

*******

Vin pulled up Peso, suppressing the urge to sigh. Four Corners at last. He hung his head slightly, Buck, please, shut up, he begged silently. After almost three weeks of feeling caught in the middle, the taciturn tracker was eager to put some distance between himself and the loquacious libertine and the sententious gunslinger. For the umpteenth time, Vin wished Ezra had been along. They often joked the garrulous gambler never knew when to shut up. But Vin had come to realize that Ezra wielded his words as well as the sharpshooter did his gun. Of course, if nothing else it would have given Chris a target for his increasingly destructive anger. Maybe then he wouldn’t have turned it inward where it continued to smolder and blaze like a rampaging fire through dry prairie grass.

Peso snorted impatiently. "Come on, cowboy, I’ll buy you a drink."

"Yeah, come on, Chris. Ain’t seen a purty face for a mighty long time."

In answer, Chris simply urged his contentious mount through the growing darkness. He hardened his jaw against undiminished fury. Once again, that bitch had slipped through his fingers. She had been there but was gone again without a trace. Guilt upon guilt had been wrapping tendrils around his heart and mind ever since he had discovered her obsession. He knew both Vin and Buck were right as they tried to talk sense into his head, but he found it increasingly impossible to think rationally about anything at all. Vin hit the nail on the head when he had said that Chris was becoming fixated on Ella Gaines.

He listened with half an ear as Buck’s prattle washed over him. Its consistent repetition was soothing. A wry grin floated over his tense face at Vin’s almost imperceptible flinch. Buck was driving the unflappable buffalo hunter crazy. Hell, Buck said more in a minute than Vin said in a week. Shit, the stuff those two put up from him was amazing. Why didn’t they all just say the hell with it?

Josiah pushed the chair back on two legs. Smoke from the street fires wafted in the soft breeze. It was a peaceful Thursday evening. In front of the Clarion, Josiah could see Kit sweeping the boardwalk with great earnestness, though not to much effect. That ornery imp had stayed out of trouble for the past few days. Actually, Josiah thought as he sharpened his bowie knife, the child had proved to be an excellent helper and surprisingly good company. Drawing himself to his full height of four foot, he had ‘sincerely and humbly’ asked Josiah’s pardon and said that he ‘most heartedly desired to make restitution’. A few crookedly nailed boards in the church bore testament to his sincerity.

Even Inez had made her peace with the con man and his sidekick. Now that must have been an interesting conversation, especially considering the contents of those letters. Josiah was still chuckling when Nathan strolled up.

"You still laughing about them letters?" Nathan scolded. "Whew, JD’s going to be giving Buck a run for his money. I just saw him over at Miz Dolly’s giving her one of them lines: it was working too. Boy has no shame."

"Wonder if Maude’s going to be coming to town anytime soon." Josiah remarked slyly.

Nathan spun to him, and started to comment, but stopped seeing the devilish glint in the preacher’s eyes. "Let’s go see what Inez has in the way of supper."

Kit decided that boardwalk was clean enough. Flipping the broom up on his palm he tried to balance it the way he’d seen Ezra do the other day. "Rats." It was harder then it looked.

Now, this broom would make a terrific lance. He was a knight in shinning armor defending the fair maidens from dragons and villains. "Hah, take that ye cursed devil," spinning and lunging against his imaginary foes, just like the knight had done in the story Ezra read to him by that guy with the same name as his hero’s horse. "I’ve got you, you villain!" Dashing forward, Kit’s boot caught on a loose board and propelled the hapless squire directly into the side of a big, black horse.

Job squealed in terror, rearing up to escape the sudden jab into his rib cage. Hooves flailed, Kit screamed, and the unfortunate broncobuster was deposited rather sharply on his black clad bottom.

Chaos reigned. Ezra came bursting out of the saloon at a run. "Kit!" he bellowed just as the humiliated and enraged Chris Larabee pulled the youngster up in an iron grip.

"Just what the hell do you think you’re doing." Chris shook the petrified boy by his upper arms. "Of all the damn fool…."

The sudden cocking of a Remington in his left ear halted his tirade. "Put him down. Gently," drawled the deceptively soft Southern voice. The steel in the tone ran shivers up Larabee’s spine as effectively as a knife blade running up the back of his neck.

Everyone froze in place. Son-of-a-bitch! Ezra drew on Chris. Vin closed his eyes not wanting to see his two friends spread out in the dusty street.

"In the future, Mr. Larabee, you will kindly refrain from man-handling my boy!" Chris plainly heard the or-else and being an intuitive man, believed him whole-heartedly.

"Shoot, Ezra." Opps, not the best choice of words; Buck continued undeterred, "Chris didn’t hurt the boy none, he just didn’t appreciate getting dumped on his can, that’s all."

"I don’t recall addressing you, Mr. Wilmington." Ezra never changed his gaze from Chris’ left ear and the wide-eyed youngster. He hadn’t uncocked the gun either. "Kit, what just happened here?"

Stepping back from the dark dangerous man in front of him, the shaking child breathed out, "I was ‘um, just playing being a knight. You know like in the Knights Tale. I went to stab the bad guy with my lance, er ah, the broom, and well, I, er, um, sort of ran it into that poor horse over there. But I didn’t mean to, I just lost my balance. And it was an accident, really, Ezra, really I did think, I wasn’t being thoughtless. Just playing, that’s all." The words came tumbling out, faster as Kit began to cry. "I’m sorry mister, please, it was an accident."

The tears of the trembling boy before him were like drops of ice water on smoldering coals. Chris felt his anger fizzle in their onslaught. The anguish and fright in those jewel-like eyes brought him to his knees, literally. Dropping down, Chris pushed his hat back and spoke gently, "I never meant to scare ya lil’ guy. It just took me by surprise."

"Me too, Mister." Kit commiserated. "Is your horse okay, I didn’t hurt him did I? He asked worriedly.

Vin had gathered the reins of the irritated Job. "Nah, kid, that old cuss is too darn ornery to be hurt. Just riffled his feathers a mite. Reckon he’ll live." The tracked shot a pointed glance at Chris, "Ain’t that right, cowboy?"

Chris chose not to acknowledge that sly comment that, he suspected, was not at all about his horse. The lanky lawman stood and brushed off the back of his trousers. Ezra coolly holstered his gun, wondering idly if his head was going to remain attached to his body. Fate intervened in the familiar form of Billy Travis darting out of the Clarion. "Hey, Chris," he yelled in greeting, "Come on Kit, hurry up Mr. Standish, Mama said dinner is on the table."

"Certainly, Mr. Travis, Gentlemen, my apologies, but Mr. Baral and I must beg your leave. We mustn’t detain our gracious hostess, it would be dreadfully impolite." Tipping his hat, Ezra grabbed Kit’s hand and practically ran into the newspaper office.

 

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