"But I stayed and had a talk with her; and I am glad I did, though I
couldn't help remembering the old rhyme,
"When the Devil was sick, the Devil a saint would be:
When the Devil got well, the devil a saint was he."
"Harriet Chesney needed a friend, and she was glad to see me. She was
more than glad to know that I had come as soon as I could. Said she had
told herself I would not fail her--that it was the snow and the canon
and not some other reason that kept me away. Said she thought she was
going to die; and that she wanted me to know she was sorry she had done
wrong. The doctor had told her she would get well, so she was going to
be an honest woman if I would help her. And what do you suppose she
wanted me to do?"
"Lend her some money, most likely," said Keeler.
"No, sir. She didn't want any money. Said she wanted to write to me
every Sunday, and to see me whenever I came to San Francisco. Of course,
I agreed, though I told her I don't go down to the city once a year, as
a usual thing. I told her if she thought she needed me to write and I
would try to get down. That seemed to satisfy her.
"Well, she has written to me every week since then.
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