{"id":27115,"date":"2026-03-22T22:09:00","date_gmt":"2026-03-23T02:09:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/?p=27115"},"modified":"2026-03-22T22:09:20","modified_gmt":"2026-03-23T02:09:20","slug":"o-henry-after-twenty-years","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/short-stories\/o-henry-after-twenty-years\/27115\/","title":{"rendered":"O. Henry: After Twenty Years"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Synopsis:<\/strong> \u201cAfter Twenty Years\u201d is a short story by O. Henry (the pen name of William Sydney Porter), published in 1906 in the collection The Four Million<\/em>. Set on a cold New York night, the story begins with a police officer patrolling the nearly deserted streets until he encounters a man waiting for an old friend. Two decades earlier, the two had made a promise: to meet again at that very spot and at the same hour, no matter how much their lives might have changed. The dialogue between the police officer and the stranger reveals details of that old friendship, establishing the story\u2019s nostalgic and expectant tone.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\n
\"O.<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

After Twenty Years<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

O. Henry
(Full story)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The policeman on the beat moved up the avenue impressively. The impressiveness was habitual and not for show, for spectators were few. The time was barely 10 o\u2019clock at night, but chilly gusts of wind with a taste of rain in them had well nigh de-peopled the streets.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Trying doors as he went, twirling his club with many intricate and artful movements, turning now and then to cast his watchful eye adown the pacific thoroughfare, the officer, with his stalwart form and slight swagger, made a fine picture of a guardian of the peace. The vicinity was one that kept early hours. Now and then you might see the lights of a cigar store or of an all-night lunch counter; but the majority of the doors belonged to business places that had long since been closed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When about midway of a certain block the policeman suddenly slowed his walk. In the doorway of a darkened hardware store a man leaned, with an unlighted cigar in his mouth. As the policeman walked up to him the man spoke up quickly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s all right, officer,\u201d he said, reassuringly. \u201cI\u2019m just waiting for a friend. It\u2019s an appointment made twenty years ago. Sounds a little funny to you, doesn\u2019t it? Well, I\u2019ll explain if you\u2019d like to make certain it\u2019s all straight. About that long ago there used to be a restaurant where this store stands\u2014 \u2018Big Joe\u2019 Brady\u2019s restaurant.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cUntil five years ago,\u201d said the policeman. \u201cIt was torn down then.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man in the doorway struck a match and lit his cigar. The light showed a pale, square-jawed face with keen eyes, and a little white scar near his right eyebrow. His scarfpin was a large diamond, oddly set.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTwenty years ago to-night,\u201d said the man, \u201cI dined here at \u2018Big Joe\u2019 Brady\u2019s with Jimmy Wells, my best chum, and the finest chap in the world. He and I were raised here in New York, just like two brothers, together. I was eighteen and Jimmy was twenty. The next morning I was to start for the West to make my fortune. You couldn\u2019t have dragged Jimmy out of New York; he thought it was the only place on earth. Well, we agreed that night that we would meet here again exactly twenty years from that date and time, no matter what our conditions might be or from what distance we might have to come. We figured that in twenty years each of us ought to have our destiny worked out and our fortunes made, whatever they were going to be.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt sounds pretty interesting,\u201d said the policeman. \u201cRather a long time between meets, though, it seems to me. Haven\u2019t you heard from your friend since you left?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, yes, for a time we corresponded,\u201d said the other. \u201cBut after a year or two we lost track of each other. You see, the West is a pretty big proposition, and I kept hustling around over it pretty lively. But I know Jimmy will meet me here if he\u2019s alive, for he always was the truest, stanchest old chap in the world. He\u2019ll never forget. I came a thousand miles to stand in this door to-night, and it\u2019s worth it if my old partner turns up.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The waiting man pulled out a handsome watch, the lids of it set with small diamonds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThree minutes to ten,\u201d he announced. \u201cIt was exactly ten o\u2019clock when we parted here at the restaurant door.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDid pretty well out West, didn\u2019t you?\u201d asked the policeman.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou bet! I hope Jimmy has done half as well. He was a kind of plodder, though, good fellow as he was. I\u2019ve had to compete with some of the sharpest wits going to get my pile. A man gets in a groove in New York. It takes the West to put a razor-edge on him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The policeman twirled his club and took a step or two.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll be on my way. Hope your friend comes around all right. Going to call time on him sharp?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI should say not!\u201d said the other. \u201cI\u2019ll give him half an hour at least. If Jimmy is alive on earth he\u2019ll be here by that time. So long, officer.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood-night, sir,\u201d said the policeman, passing on along his beat, trying doors as he went.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was now a fine, cold drizzle falling, and the wind had risen from its uncertain puffs into a steady blow. The few foot passengers astir in that quarter hurried dismally and silently along with coat collars turned high and pocketed hands. And in the door of the hardware store the man who had come a thousand miles to fill an appointment, uncertain almost to absurdity, with the friend of his youth, smoked his cigar and waited.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

About twenty minutes he waited, and then a tall man in a long overcoat, with collar turned up to his ears, hurried across from the opposite side of the street. He went directly to the waiting man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIs that you, Bob?\u201d he asked, doubtfully.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIs that you, Jimmy Wells?\u201d cried the man in the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBless my heart!\u201d exclaimed the new arrival, grasping both the other\u2019s hands with his own. \u201cIt\u2019s Bob, sure as fate. I was certain I\u2019d find you here if you were still in existence. Well, well, well! \u2014 twenty years is a long time. The old restaurant\u2019s gone, Bob; I wish it had lasted, so we could have had another dinner there. How has the West treated you, old man?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBully; it has given me everything I asked it for. You\u2019ve changed lots, Jimmy. I never thought you were so tall by two or three inches.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, I grew a bit after I was twenty.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDoing well in New York, Jimmy?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cModerately. I have a position in one of the city departments. Come on, Bob; we\u2019ll go around to a place I know of, and have a good long talk about old times.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The two men started up the street, arm in arm. The man from the West, his egotism enlarged by success, was beginning to outline the history of his career. The other, submerged in his overcoat, listened with interest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the corner stood a drug store, brilliant with electric lights. When they came into this glare each of them turned simultaneously to gaze upon the other\u2019s face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man from the West stopped suddenly and released his arm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not Jimmy Wells,\u201d he snapped. \u201cTwenty years is a long time, but not long enough to change a man\u2019s nose from a Roman to a pug.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt sometimes changes a good man into a bad one,\u201d said the tall man. \u201cYou\u2019ve been under arrest for ten minutes, \u2018Silky\u2019 Bob. Chicago thinks you may have dropped over our way and wires us she wants to have a chat with you. Going quietly, are you? That\u2019s sensible. Now, before we go on to the station here\u2019s a note I was asked to hand you. You may read it here at the window. It\u2019s from Patrolman Wells.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man from the West unfolded the little piece of paper handed him. His hand was steady when he began to read, but it trembled a little by the time he had finished. The note was rather short.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bob: I was at the appointed place on time. When you struck the match to light your cigar I saw it was the face of the man wanted in Chicago. Somehow I couldn\u2019t do it myself, so I went around and got a plain clothes man to do the job.

JIMMY.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

THE END<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cAfter Twenty Years\u201d is a short story by O. Henry (the pen name of William Sydney Porter), published in 1906 in the collection The Four Million. Set on a cold New York night, the story begins with a police officer patrolling the nearly deserted streets until he encounters a man waiting for an old friend. Two decades earlier, the two had made a promise: to meet again at that very spot and at the same hour, no matter how much their lives might have changed. The dialogue between the police officer and the stranger reveals details of that old friendship, establishing the story\u2019s nostalgic and expectant tone.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":21193,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_kad_blocks_custom_css":"","_kad_blocks_head_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_body_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_footer_custom_js":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[559],"tags":[591,580,570],"class_list":["post-27115","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-short-stories","tag-crime","tag-o-henry-en","tag-united-states","generate-columns","tablet-grid-50","mobile-grid-100","grid-parent","grid-33"],"acf":[],"taxonomy_info":{"category":[{"value":559,"label":"Short stories"}],"post_tag":[{"value":591,"label":"Crime"},{"value":580,"label":"O. Henry"},{"value":570,"label":"United States"}]},"featured_image_src_large":["https:\/\/lecturia.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/11\/O.-Henry-Veinte-anos-despues.webp",1024,1024,false],"author_info":{"display_name":"Juan Pablo Guevara","author_link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/author\/spartakku\/"},"comment_info":"","category_info":[{"term_id":559,"name":"Short stories","slug":"short-stories","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":559,"taxonomy":"category","description":"","parent":0,"count":419,"filter":"raw","cat_ID":559,"category_count":419,"category_description":"","cat_name":"Short stories","category_nicename":"short-stories","category_parent":0}],"tag_info":[{"term_id":591,"name":"Crime","slug":"crime","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":591,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":8,"filter":"raw"},{"term_id":580,"name":"O. Henry","slug":"o-henry-en","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":580,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":3,"filter":"raw"},{"term_id":570,"name":"United States","slug":"united-states","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":570,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":294,"filter":"raw"}],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27115","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=27115"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27115\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":27118,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27115\/revisions\/27118"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/21193"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=27115"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=27115"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=27115"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}