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diff --git a/4905-0.txt b/4905-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0923d21 --- /dev/null +++ b/4905-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16666 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Galusha the Magnificent, by Joseph C. Lincoln + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Galusha the Magnificent + +Author: Joseph C. Lincoln + +Release Date: June 6, 2006 [eBook #4905] +[Most recently updated: January 8, 2023] + +Language: English + +Produced by: Don Lainson + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GALUSHA THE MAGNIFICENT *** + + + + +GALUSHA THE MAGNIFICENT + + +By Joseph C. Lincoln + + + + + +GALUSHA THE MAGNIFICENT + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Mr. Horatio Pulcifer was on his way home. It was half-past five of a +foggy, gray afternoon in early October; it had rained the previous day +and a part of the day before that and it looked extremely likely to rain +again at any moment. The road between Wellmouth Centre, the village in +which Mr. Pulcifer had been spending the afternoon, and East Wellmouth, +the community which he honored with his residence, was wet and sloppy; +there were little puddles in the hollows of the macadam and the ruts and +depressions in the sand on either side were miniature lakes. The groves +of pitch pines and the bare, brown fields and knolls dimly seen through +the fog looked moist and forsaken and dismal. There were no houses in +sight; along the East Wellmouth road there are few dwellings, for no one +but a misanthrope or a hermit would select that particular section as +a place in which to live. Night was coming on and, to accent the +loneliness, from somewhere in the dusky dimness a great foghorn groaned +at intervals. + +It was a sad and deserted outlook, that from the seat of Mr. Pulcifer's +“flivver” as it bounced and squeaked and rattled and splashed its way +along. But Mr. Pulcifer himself was not sad, at least his appearance +certainly was not. Swinging jauntily, if a trifle ponderously, with the +roll of the little car, his clutch upon the steering wheel expressed +serene confidence and his manner self-satisfaction quite as serene. +His plaid cap was tilted carelessly down toward his right ear, the tilt +being balanced by the upward cock of his cigar toward his left ear. The +light-colored topcoat with the soiled collar was open sufficiently at +the throat to show its wearer's chins and a tasty section of tie and +cameo scarf-pin below them. And from the corner of Mr. Pulcifer's mouth +opposite that occupied by the cigar came the words and some of the tune +of a song which had been the hit of a “Follies” show two seasons +before. No, there was nothing dismal or gloomy in Mr. Horatio Pulcifer's +appearance as he piloted his automobile toward home at the close of that +October afternoon. + +And his outward seeming did not belie his feelings. He had spent +a pleasant day. At South Wellmouth, his first port of call, he had +strengthened his political fences by dropping in upon and chatting with +several acquaintances who prided themselves upon being “in the know” + concerning local political opinion and drift. Mr. “Raish” Pulcifer--no +one in Ostable county ever referred to him as Horatio--had already held +the positions of town clerk, selectman, constable and postmaster. +Now, owing to an unfortunate shift in the party vote, the public was, +temporarily, deprived of his services. However, it was rumored that he +might be persuaded to accept the nomination for state representative if +it were offered to him. His acquaintances at South Wellmouth had that +day assured him there was “a good, fair fightin' chance” that it might +be. + +Then, after leaving South Wellmouth, he had dined at the Rogers' House +in Wellmouth Centre, “matching” a friend for the dinners and “sticking” + the said friend for them and for the cigars afterward. Following this he +had joined other friends in a little game in Elmer Rogers' back room and +had emerged from that room three dollars and seventy-two cents ahead. +No wonder he sang as he drove homeward. No wonder he looked quite care +free. And, as a matter of fact, care free he was, that is, as care free +as one is permitted to be in this care-ridden world. Down underneath his +bright exterior there were a few cankers which might have gnawed had +he permitted himself to think of them, but he did not so permit. +Mr. Pulcifer's motto had always been: “Let the other feller do the +worryin'.” And, generally speaking, in a deal with Raish that, sooner or +later, was what the other fellow did. + +The fog and dusk thickened, Mr. Pulcifer sang, and the flivver wheezed +and rattled and splashed onward. At a particularly dark spot, where the +main road joined a cross country byroad, Raish drew up and climbed out +to light the car lamps, which were of the old-fashioned type requiring +a gas tank and matches. He had lighted one and was bending forward with +the match ready to light the other when a voice at his elbow said: + +“I beg your pardon, but--but will you kindly tell me where I am?” + +It was not a loud, aggressive voice; on the contrary, it was hesitating +and almost timid, but when one is supposedly alone at twilight on the +East Wellmouth road any sort of voice sounding unexpectedly just above +one's head is startling. Mr. Pulcifer's match went out, he started +violently erect, bumping his head against the open door of the lamp +compartment, and swung a red and agitated face toward his shoulder. + +“I--beg your pardon,” said the voice. “I'm afraid I startled you. I'm +extremely sorry. Really I am.” + +“What the h-ll?” observed Raish, enthusiastically. + +“I'm very sorry, very--yes, indeed,” said the voice once more. Mr. +Pulcifer, rubbing his bumped head and puffing from surprise and the +exertion of stooping, stared wide-eyed at the speaker. + +The latter was no one he knew, so much was sure, to begin with. The +first impression Raish gained was of an overcoat and a derby hat. Then +he caught the glitter of spectacles beneath the hat brim. Next his +attention centered upon a large and bright yellow suitcase which the +stranger was carrying. That suitcase settled it. Mr. Pulcifer's keen +mind had diagnosed the situation. + +“No,” he said, quickly, “I don't want nothin'--nothin'; d'you get me?” + +“But--but--pardon me, I--” + +“Nothin'. Nothin' at all. I've got all I want.” + +The stranger seemed to find this statement puzzling. + +“Excuse me,” he faltered, after a moment's hesitation, during which +Raish scratched another match. “I--You see--I fear--I'm sure you don't +understand.” + +Mr. Pulcifer bent and lighted the second lamp. Then he straightened once +more and turned toward his questioner. + +“_I_ understand, young feller,” he said, “but you don't seem to. I don't +want to buy nothin'. I've got all I want. That's plain enough, ain't +it?” + +“But--but--All you want? Really, I--” + +“All I want of whatever 'tis you've got in that bag. I never buy nothin' +of peddlers. So you're just wastin' your time hangin' around. Trot along +now, I'm on my way.” + +He stepped to the side of the car, preparatory to climbing to the +driver's seat, but the person with the suitcase followed him. + +“Pardon me,” faltered that person, “but I'm not--ah--a peddler. I'm +afraid I--that is, I appear to be lost. I merely wish to ask the way +to--ah--to Mr. Hall's residence--Mr. Hall of Wellmouth.” + +Raish turned and looked, not at the suitcase this time, but at the +face under the hat brim. It was a mild, distinctly inoffensive face--an +intellectual face, although that is not the term Mr. Pulcifer would have +used in describing it. It was not the face of a peddler, the ordinary +kind of peddler, certainly--and the mild brown eyes, eyes a trifle +nearsighted, behind the round, gold-rimmed spectacles, were not those +of a sharp trader seeking a victim. Also Raish saw that he had made +a mistake in addressing this individual as “young feller.” He was of +middle age, and the hair, worn a little longer than usual, above his +ears was sprinkled with gray. + +“Mr. Hall, of--ah--of Wellmouth,” repeated the stranger, seemingly +embarrassed by the Pulcifer stare. “I--I wish to find his house. Can you +tell me how to find it?” + +Raish took the cigar, which even the bump against the lamp door had +failed to dislodge, from the corner of his mouth, snapped the ash from +its end, and then asked a question of his own. + +“Hall?” he repeated. “Hall? Why, he don't live in Wellmouth. East +Wellmouth's where he lives.” + +“Dear me! Are you sure?” + +“Sure? Course I'm sure. Know him well.” + +“Oh, dear me! Why, the man at the station told me--” + +“What station? The Wellmouth depot, do you mean?” + +“No, the--ah--the South Wellmouth station. You see, I got off the train +at South Wellmouth by mistake. It was the first Wellmouth called, you +know, and I--I suppose I caught the name and--ah--rushed out of the car. +I thought--it seemed to be a--a sort of lonely spot, you know--” + +“Haw, haw! South Wellmouth depot? It's worse'n lonesome, it's +God-forsaken.” + +“Yes--yes, it looked so. I should scarcely conceive of the Almighty's +wishing to remain there long.” + +“Eh?” + +“Oh, it's not material. Pardon me. I inquired of the young man in charge +of the--ah--station.” + +“Nelse Howard? Yes, sure.” + +“You know him, then?” + +Mr. Pulcifer laughed. “Say,” he observed, patronizingly, “there's mighty +few folks in this neighborhood I don't know. You bet that's right!” + +“The young man--the station man--was very kind and obliging, very kind +indeed. He informed me that there was no direct conveyance from the +South Wellmouth station to Wellmouth--ah--Centre, but he prevailed upon +the driver of the station--ah--vehicle--” + +“Eh? You mean Lem Lovett's express team?” + +“I believe the driver's name was Lovett--yes. He prevailed upon him to +take me in his wagon as far as a crossroads where I was to be left. +From there I was to follow another road--ah--on foot, you know--until I +reached a second crossroad which would, he said, bring me directly into +Wellmouth Middle--ah--Centre, I should say. He told me that Mr. Hall +lived there.” + +“Well, he told you wrong. Hall lives up to East Wellmouth. But what +I can't get a-hold of is how you come to fetch up way off here. The +Centre's three mile or more astern of us; I've just come from there.” + +“Oh, dear me! I must have lost my way. I was quite sure of it. It seemed +to me I had been walking a very long time.” + +Mr. Pulcifer laughed. “Haw, haw!” he guffawed, “I should say you had! +I tell you what you done, Mister; you walked right past that crossroad +Nelse told you to turn in at. THAT would have fetched you to the Centre. +Instead of doin' it you kept on as you was goin' and here you be 'way +out in the fag-end of nothin'. The Centre's three mile astern and East +Wellmouth's about two and a ha'f ahead. Haw, haw! that's a good one, +ain't it!” + +His companion's laugh was not enthusiastic. It was as near a groan as +a laugh could well be. He put the yellow suitcase down in the mud and +looked wearily up and down the fog-draped road. There was little of it +to be seen, but that little was not promising. + +“Dear me!” he exclaimed. “Dear me!” And then added, under his breath: +“Oh, dear!” + +Mr. Pulcifer regarded him intently. A new idea was beginning to dawn +beneath the plaid cap. + +“Say, Mister,” he said, suddenly, “you're in a bad scrape, ain't you?” + +“I beg your pardon? What? Yes, I am--I fear I am. Is it--is it a VERY +long walk back to Wellmouth?” + +“To the Centre? Three good long Cape Cod miles.” + +“And is the-ah--the road good?” + +“'Bout as you see it most of the way. Macadam ain't so bad, but if you +step off it you're liable to go under for the third time.” + +“Dear me! Dear me!” + +“Dear me's right, I cal'late. But what do you want to go to the Centre +for? Hall don't live there. He lives on ahead here--at East Wellmouth.” + +“Yes--that's true, that's true. So you said. But the South Wellmouth +station man--” + +“Oh, never mind Nelse Howard. He's a smart Aleck and talks too much, +anyhow. He made a mistake, that's all. Now I tell you, Mister, I'm goin' +to East Wellmouth myself. Course I don't make a business of carryin' +passengers and this trip is goin' to be some out of my way. Gasoline and +ile are pretty expensive these days, too, but--Eh? What say?” + +The pale face beneath the derby hat for the first time showed a ray of +hope. The eyes behind the spectacles were eager. + +“I--I didn't say anything, I believe,” was the hurried answer, “but I +should like to say that--that if you COULD find it possible to take me +with you in your car--if you COULD do me so great a favor, I should be +only too happy to pay for the privilege. Pay--ah--almost anything. I +am--I have not been well and I fatigue easily. If you could--” + +Mr. Pulcifer's hand descended squarely upon the shoulder of the dark +overcoat. + +“Don't say nothin' more,” he ordered, heartily. “I'm only too glad to do +a feller a favor any time, if it's a possible thing. That's me, that is. +I shouldn't think of chargin' you a cent, but of course this cruise is a +little mite off my track and it's late and--er--well, suppose we call it +three dollars? That's fair, ain't it?” + +“Oh, yes, quite, quite. It's very reasonable. Very generous of you. I'm +extremely grateful, really.” + +This prompt and enthusiastic acceptance of his offer was a bit +disconcerting. Raish was rather sorry that he had not said five. +However, to do him justice, the transaction was more or less what +he would have called “chicken-feed stuff.” Mr. Pulcifer was East +Wellmouth's leading broker in real estate, in cranberry bog property, +its leading promoter of deals of all kinds, its smartest trader. +Ordinarily he did not stoop to the carrying of passengers for profit. +But this particular passenger had been delivered into his hand and +gasoline WAS expensive. + +“Jump right in, Mister,” he said, blithely. “All aboard! Jump right in.” + +His fare did not jump in, exactly. He climbed in rather slowly and +painfully. Raish, stowing the suitcase between his feet, noticed that +his shoes and trouser legs above them were spattered and daubed with +yellow mud. + +“You HAVE had some rough travelin', ain't you, Mister?” he observed. +“Oh--er--what did you say your name was? Mine's Pulcifer.” + +“Oh, yes--yes. Ah--how do you do, Mr. Pulcifer? My name is Bangs.” + +“Bangs, eh? That's a good Cape name, or used to be. You any relation to +Sylvanus Bangs, over to Harniss?” + +“No--no, not that I am aware. Ours is a Boston branch of the family.” + +“Boston, eh? Um-hm. I see. Yes, yes. What's your first name?” + +“Mine? Oh, my name is Galusha.” + +“Eh? Ga--WHAT did you say 'twas?” + +“Galusha. It IS an odd name.” + +“Yes, I'd say 'twas. Don't cal'late as I ever heard tell of it afore. +Ga--Ga--” + +“Galusha.” + +“Galushy, eh? I see. Strange what names folks 'll christen onto +children, ain't it? There's lots of queer things in the world; did you +ever stop to think about that, Mister--Mister Bangs?” + +Mr. Bangs, who was leaning back against the upholstered seat as if he +found the position decidedly comforting, smiled faintly. + +“We have all thought that, I'm sure,” he said. “'There are more things +in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'” + +Mr. Pulcifer was not easily startled, but his jerk of surprise sent the +car perilously near the side of the road. + +“How in the devil did you know my name?” he demanded. + +“Your name? Why, you told me. It is Pulcifer, isn't it?” + +“No, no. My first name--Horatio. I never told you that, I'll swear.” + +Mr. Bangs smiled and the smile made his face look younger. + +“Now that's rather odd, isn't it?” he observed. “Quite a coincidence.” + +“A what?” + +“Oh, nothing, nothing. I didn't know your name, Mr.--ah--Pulcifer. My +using it was an accident. I was quoting--ah--from Hamlet, you know.” + +Mr. Pulcifer did not know, but he thought it not worth while advertising +the fact. Plainly this passenger of his was a queer bird, as queer +within as in dress and appearance. He turned his head slightly and +looked him over. It was growing too dark to see plainly, but one or two +points were obvious. For instance, the yellow leather suitcase was brand +new and the overcoat was old. It was shiny about the cuffs. The derby +hat--and in October, in Wellmouth, derby hats are seldom worn--the derby +hat was new and of a peculiar shade of brown; it was a little too small +for its wearer's head and, even as Raish looked, a gust of wind lifted +it and would have sent it whirling from the car had not Mr. Bangs saved +it by a sudden grab. Raish chuckled. + +“Come pretty nigh losin' somethin' overboard that time, didn't you?” he +observed. + +Mr. Bangs pulled the brown derby as far down upon his head as it would +go. + +“I--I'm afraid I made a mistake in buying this hat,” he confided. “I +told the man I didn't think it fitted me as it should, but he said that +was because I wasn't used to it. I doubt if I ever become used to it. +And it really doesn't fit any better to-day than it did yesterday.” + +“New one, ain't it?” inquired Raish. + +“Yes, quite new. My other blew out of the car window. I bought this one +at a small shop near the station in Boston. I'm afraid it wasn't a very +good shop, but I was in a great hurry.” + +“Where was you comin' from when your other one blew away?” + +“From the mountains.” + +“White Mountains?” + +“Yes.” + +Raish said that he wanted to know and waited for his passenger to say +something more. This the passenger did not do. Mr. Pulcifer whistled a +bar or two of his “Follies” song and then asked another question. + +“You any relation to Josh?” he asked. + +“I beg your pardon?” + +“Eh? Oh, that's all right. I just asked you if you was a relation of +Josh's--of Hall's, I mean, the folks you're goin' to see.” + +“Oh, no, no. We are not related. Merely friends.” + +“I see. I thought there wan't any Bangses in that family. His wife was a +Cahoon, wan't she?” + +“I--I BEG your pardon?” + +“I asked you if she wan't a Cahoon; Cahoon was her name afore she +married Hall, wan't it?” + +“Oh, I don't know, I'm sure.... Now, really, that's very funny, very.” + +“What's funny?” + +“Why, you see, I--” Mr. Bangs had an odd little way of pausing in the +middle of a sentence and then, so to speak, catching the train of his +thought with a jerk and hurrying on again. “I understood you to ask if +she was a--a cocoon. I could scarcely believe my ears. It WAS funny, +wasn't it?” + +Raish Pulcifer thought it was and said so between roars. His conviction +that his passenger was a queer bird was strengthening every minute. + +“What's your line of business, Mr. Bangs?” was his next question. + +“I am not a business man. I am connected with the Archaeological +Department of the National Institute at Washington.” + +If he had said he was connected with the interior department of a +Brontosaurus the statements would have conveyed an equal amount of +understanding to the Pulcifer mind. However, it was a fixed principle +with Raish never to admit a lack of knowledge of any subject whatsoever. +So he said: + +“From Washin'ton, eh? I see. Yes, yes. Cal'latin' to stay here on the +Cape long, Mr. Bangs?” + +“Why, I don't know, I'm sure. I have not been--ah--well of late. The +doctors advise rest and--ah--outdoor air and all that. I tried several +places, but I didn't care for them. The Halls invited me to visit them +and so I--well, I came.” + +“Never been here to the Cape afore, then?” + +“No.” + +“Well, sir, you've come to the right place when you came to Wellmouth. I +was born right here in East Wellmouth and I've lived here for fifty-two +year and if anybody should ask me what I thought of the place I'd tell +'em--” + +He proceeded to tell what he would tell 'em. It was a favorite topic +with him, especially in the summer and with visitors from the city. +Usually the discourse ended with a suggestion that if the listener +should ever think of investing a little money in real estate “that'll +be wuth gold dollars to you--yes, sir, gold dollars--” he, Horatio G. +Pulcifer, would be willing to point out and exhibit just the particular +bit of real estate to invest in. He did not reach the climax this time, +however. A gentle nasal sound at his shoulder caused Raish to turn his +head. Mr. Bangs had fallen asleep. Awakened by a vigorous nudge, he +apologized profusely. + +“Really,” he declared, with much embarrassment, “I--I am quite ashamed +of myself. I--you see--I have, as I say, been somewhat unwell of late, +and the fatigue of walking--I DO hope you will excuse me. I was very +much interested in what you were saying. What--ah--what was it?” + +Before Raish could have repeated his real estate sermon, even had he so +desired, the car came to the top of a hill, emerged from the clumps of +pines shutting in the road on both sides, and began to descend a long +slope. And through the fog and blackness at the foot of the slope there +shone dimly first one and then several lights. Mr. Bangs leaned forward +and peered around the edge of the wet windshield. + +“Is that it?” he asked, in much the same tone that Mrs. Noah may have +used when her husband announced that the lookout had sighted Ararat. + +Raish Pulcifer nodded. “Yes, sir,” he declared, proudly. “Yes, sir, +that's East Wellmouth.” + +The fog in the valley was thicker even than that upon the hill and +East Wellmouth was almost invisible. Mr. Bangs made out a few houses, a +crossroads, a small store, and that was about all. From off to the right +a tremendous bellow sounded. The fog seemed to quiver with it. + +“WHAT is that?” asked Mr. Bangs, nervously. “I've heard it ever since I +left the train, I believe. Some sort of a--ah--steam whistle, isn't it?” + +“Foghorn over to the light,” replied Raish, briskly. “Well, sir, here +you be.” + +The car rolled up to the side of the road and stopped. + +“Here you be, Mr. Bangs,” repeated Mr. Pulcifer. “Here's where Hall +lives, right here.” + +Mr. Bangs seemed somewhat astonished. “Right here?” he asked. “Dear me, +is it possible!” + +“Possible as anything ever you knew in your life. Why not? Ain't sorry, +are you?” + +“Oh, no--no, indeed, I'm very glad. I was--ah--a trifle surprised, +that is all. You said--I think you spoke of Mr. Hall's cottage as +being--ah--off the track and so I--well I scarcely expected to reach his +house so easily.” + +Raish had forgotten his “off the track” statement, which was purely a +commercial fiction invented on the spur of the moment to justify the +high price he was charging for transportation. He was somewhat taken +aback, but before he could think of a good excuse his companion spoke +again. He was leaning forward, peering out at the house before which the +car had stopped. It was a small, gray-shingled dwelling, sitting back +from the road in the shadow of two ancient “silver-leafs,” and Mr. Bangs +seemed to find its appearance surprising. + +“Are you--are you SURE this is the Hall cottage?” he stammered. + +“Am I sure? Me? Well, I ought to be. I've lived in East Wellmouth all my +life and Josh Hall's lived in this house ever since I can remember.” + +This should have been reassuring, but it did not appear to be. Mr. +Pulcifer's passenger drew a startled breath. + +“What--WHAT is his Christian name?” he asked. “The--the Mr. Hall who +lives here?” + +“His name is--Why? What's the matter?” + +“I'm afraid there has been a mistake. Is this Mr. Hall an entomologist?” + +“Eh? He ain't nothin' in particular. Don't go to meetin' much, Josh +don't. His wife's a Spiritu'list.” + +“But--but, I mean--Dear me, dear me!” Mr. Bangs was fumbling in the +inside pocket of his coat. “If I--Would you mind holding this for me?” + he begged. “I have a photograph here and--Oh, thank you very much.” + +He handed Pulcifer a small pocket electric lamp. Raish held it and into +its inch of light Mr. Bangs thrust a handful of cards and papers taken +from a big and worn pocketbook. One of the handful was a postcard with a +photograph upon its back. It was a photograph of a pretty, old-fashioned +colonial house with a wide porch covered with climbing roses. Beneath +was written: “This is our cottage. Don't you think it attractive?” + +“Mrs. Hall sent me that--ah--last June--I think it was in June,” + explained Mr. Bangs, hurriedly. “But you SEE,” he added, waving +an agitated hand toward the gray-shingled dwelling beneath the +silver-leafs, “that CAN'T be the house, not if”--with a wave of the +photograph in the other hand--“if THIS is.” + +Mr. Pulcifer took the postcard and stared at it. His brows drew together +in a frown. + +“Say,” he said, turning toward his passenger, “is this the house you've +been tryin' to find? This is a picture of the old Parker place over to +Wellmouth Centre. I thought you told me you wanted to be took to Joshua +Hall's house in East Wellmouth.” + +“Joshua? Oh, no, I'm sure I never could have said Joshua. That isn't his +name.” + +“Then when I said 'Josh Hall' why didn't you say so?” + +“Oh, good gracious! Did you say 'Josh?' Oh, dear, that explains it; I +thought you said 'George.' My friend's name is George Hall. He is an +entomologist at the New York Museum of Natural History. I--” + +“Say,” broke in Raish, again, “is he a tall, bald-headed man with +whiskers; red whiskers?” + +“Yes--yes, he is.” + +“Humph! Goes gallopin' round the fields chasin' bugs and grasshoppers +like a young one?” + +“Why--why, entomology is his profession, so naturally he--” + +“Humph! So THAT'S the feller! Tut, tut, tut! Well, if you'd only said +you meant him 'twould have been all right. I forgot there was a Hall +livin' in the Parker place. If you'd said you meant 'Old Bughouse' I'd +have understood.” + +“Bughouse?” + +“Oh, that's what the Wellmouth post-office gang call him. Kind of a joke +'tis. And say, this is kind of a joke, too, my luggin' you 'way over +here, ain't it, eh? Haw, haw!” + +Mr. Bangs' attempt at a laugh was feeble. + +“But what shall I do now?” he asked, anxiously. + +“Well, that's the question, ain't it? Hum... hum... let's see. Sorry I +can't take you back to the Centre myself. Any other night I'd be glad +to, but there's a beans and brown-bread supper and sociable up to the +meetin' house this evenin' and I promised the old woman--Mrs. Pulcifer, +I mean--that I'd be on hand. I'm a little late as 'tis. Hum... let's +see... Why, I tell you. See that store over on the corner there? That's +Erastus Beebe's store and Ras is a good friend of mine. He's got an +extry horse and team and he lets 'em out sometimes. You step into the +store and ask Ras to hitch up and drive you back to the Centre. Tell +him I sent you. Say you're a friend of Raish Pulcifer's and that I said +treat you right. Don't forget: 'Raish says treat me right.' You say that +to Ras and you'll be TREATED right. Yes, SIR! If Ras ain't in the store +he'll be in his house right back of it. Might as well get out here, Mr. +Bangs, because there's a hill just ahead and I kind of like to get a +runnin' start for it. Shall I help you with the suitcase? No, well, all +right... Sorry you made the mistake, but we're all liable to make 'em +some time or another. Eh? haw, haw!” + +Poor Mr. Bangs clambered from the automobile almost as wearily and +stiffly as he had climbed into it. The engine of the Pulcifer car had +not stopped running so Raish was not obliged to get out and crank. He +took a fresh grip on the steering wheel and looked down upon his late +passenger. + +“Well, good-night, Mr. Bangs,” he said. + +“Good-night--ah--good-night, Mr. Pulcifer. I'm very much obliged to you, +I am indeed. I'm sorry my mistake made you so much trouble.” + +“Oh, that's all right, that's all right. Don't say a word... +Well--er--good-night.” + +“Good-night, sir... good-night.” + +But still the little car did not start. It's owner's next remark was +explanatory of the delay. + +“Course I HOPE you and I'll meet again, Mr. Bangs,” said Raish. “May +see you in Wellmouth, you know. Still, such things are--er--kind of +uncertain and--er--sendin' bills is a nuisance, so perhaps 'twould be +better--er--easier for both of us--if we settled that little matter of +ours right now. Eh?” + +“I beg your pardon. Little matter? I'm afraid I don't quite--” + +“Oh, that little matter of the three dollars for fetchin' you over. +Course it don't amount to nothin', but I kind of like to get them little +things off my mind, don't you? Eh?” + +Mr. Bangs was very much “fussed.” He hurriedly dragged forth the big +pocketbook. + +“I beg your pardon--really I BEG your pardon,” he stammered over and +over again. “I quite forgot. It was inexcusable of me. I'm SO sorry.” + +Evidently he felt that he had committed a crime. Mr. Pulcifer took the +three one dollar bills and waved the apologies aside with them. + +“Don't say a word, Mr. Bangs,” he called, cheerily, as the car began +to move. “Anybody's liable to forget. Do it myself sometimes. Well, so +long. Hope to see you again one of these days. Good-night.” + +The flivver moved rapidly away, gaining speed as it rushed for the +hill. Galusha Bangs watched its tail-light soar and dwindle until it +disappeared over the crest. Then, with a weary sigh, he picked up the +heavy suitcase, plodded across the road and on until he reached the step +and platform of Erastus Beebe's “General and Variety Store.” There was +a kerosene lamp burning dimly upon the counter within, but the door was +locked. He pounded on the door and shook it, but no one answered. Then, +remembering Mr. Pulcifer's instructions, he entered the yard behind the +store, found the door of Mr. Beebe's house and knocked upon that. There +was not even a light in the house. The Beebes had gone--as most of +East Wellmouth had gone--to the baked beans and brown-bread supper and +sociable at the church. Galusha Bangs was not aware of this, of course. +What he was aware of--painfully, distressingly aware--was the fact +that he was alone and supperless, very, very weak and tired, and almost +discouraged. + +However, there was no use in standing in the wet grass of the Beebe yard +and giving way to his discouragement. Galusha Bangs was a plucky little +soul, although just now a weak and long-suffering one. He waded and +slopped back to the store platform, where he put down his suitcase and +started on a short tour of exploration. Through the fog and darkness he +could dimly perceive a signpost standing at the corner of the crossroad +where the store was located. He tramped over to look at it. + +There were two signs affixed to the post. By the aid of the +pocket flashlight he read them. That at the top read thus: “TO THE +LIGHTHOUSE--1 1/2 MILES.” There was an arrow pointing along the +crossroad and off to the right. Galusha paid little attention to this +sign; it was the other nailed beneath it which caught and held his +attention. It was a rather gaudy sign of red, white, and blue, and it +read thus: “THE RESTABIT INN AT GOULD'S BLUFFS--1 MILE.” And the arrow +pointed in the same direction as the other. + +Mr. Bangs uttered his favorite exclamation. + +“Dear me! Why, dear me!” + +He read the sign again. There was no mistake, his first reading had been +correct. + +He trotted back to the platform of Mr. Beebe's store. Then, once +more dragging forth the big pocketbook, he fumbled in its various +compartments. After spilling a good many scraps of paper upon the +platform and stopping to pick them up again, he at length found what +he was looking for. It was an advertisement torn from the Summer Resort +advertising pages of a magazine. Holding it so that the feeble light +from Mr. Beebe's lamp fell upon it, Galusha read, as follows: + + +THE RESTABIT INN at Beautiful Gould's Bluffs, East Wellmouth, Mass. +Rest, sea air, and pleasant people: Good food and plenty of it. +Reasonable prices. NO FRILLS. + + +He had chanced upon the advertisement in a tattered, back number +magazine which a fellow passenger had left beside him in a car seat +a month before. He had not quite understood the “NO FRILLS” portion. +Apparently it must be important because the advertiser had put it in +capital letters, but Mr. Bangs was uncertain as to just what it meant. +But there was no uncertainty about the remainder of the “ad.” + +Rest! His weary muscles and aching joints seemed to relax at the very +whisper of the word. Food! Well, he needed food, it would be welcome, of +course--but rest! Oh, rest!! + +And food and rest, not to mention reasonable prices and pleasant people +and no frills, were all but a mile away at the Restabit Inn at Gould's +Bluffs--beautiful Gould's Bluffs. No wonder they called them beautiful. + +He returned the pocketbook to his inside pocket and the flashlight to an +outside one, turned up his coat collar, pulled the brown derby down +as tightly upon his brow as he could, picked up the heavy suitcase and +started forth to tramp the mile which separated his tired self from food +and rest--especially rest. + +The first hundred yards of that mile cut him off entirely from the +world. It was dark now, pitch dark, and the fog was so thick as to be +almost a rain. His coat and hat and suitcase dripped with it. The drops +ran down his nose. He felt as if there were almost as much water in the +air as there was beneath him on the ground--not quite as much, for his +feet were wetter than his body, but enough. + +And it was so still. No sound of voices, no dogs barking, no murmur of +the wind in trees. There did not seem to be any trees. Occasionally he +swept a circle of his immediate surroundings with the little flashlight, +but all its feeble radiance showed was fog and puddles and wet weeds and +ruts and grass--and more fog. + +Still! Oh, yes, deadly still for a long minute's interval, and then +out of the nowhere ahead, with a suddenness which each time caused his +weakened nerves to vibrate like fiddle strings, would burst the bellow +of the great foghorn. + +Silence, the splash and “sugg” of Galusha's sodden shoes moving up and +down, up and down--and then: + +“OW--ooo--ooo---ooo--OOO!!” + +Once a minute the foghorn blew and once a minute Galusha Bangs jumped as +if he were hearing it for the first time. + +The signboard had said “1 MILE.” One hundred miles, one thousand miles; +that was what it should have said to be truthful. Galusha plodded on and +on, stopping to put down the suitcase, then lifting it and pounding on +again. He had had no luncheon; he had had no dinner. He was weak from +illness. He was wet and chilled. And--yes, it was beginning to rain. + +He put down the suitcase once more. + +“Oh, my soul!” he exclaimed, and not far away, close at hand, the word +“soul” was repeated. + +“Oh, dear!” cried Galusha, startled. + +“Dear!” repeated the echo, for it was an echo. + +Galusha, brandishing the tiny flashlight, moved toward the sound. +Something bulky, huge, loomed in the blackness, a building. The +flashlight's circle, growing dimmer now for the battery was almost +exhausted, disclosed steps and a broad piazza. Mr. Bangs climbed the +steps, crossed the piazza, the boards of which creaked beneath him. +There were doors, but they were shut tight; there were windows, but they +were shuttered. Down the length of the long piazza tramped Galusha, his +heart sinking. Every window was shuttered, every door was boarded up. +Evidently this place, whatever it was, was closed. It was uninhabited. + +He came back to the front door again. Over it was a sign, he had not +looked as high before. Now he raised the dimming flashlight and read: + +“THE RESTABIT INN. Open June 15 to September 15.” + +September 15!!! Why, September was past and gone. This was the 3rd of +October. The Restabit Inn was closed for the season. + +Slowly, Galusha, tugging the suitcase, stumbled to the edge of the +piazza. There he collapsed, rather than sat down, upon the upper +step. Above him, upon the piazza roof, the rain descended heavily. The +flashlight dimmed and went out altogether. + +“OW--ooo---ooo--ooo--OOO!!” whooped the foghorn. + +Later, just how much later he never knew exactly, Mr. Bangs awoke from +his faint or collapse or doze, whichever it may have been, to hear some +one calling his name. + +“Loosh! Loosh! Loosh!” + +This was odd, very odd. “Loosh” was what he had been called at college. +That is, some of the fellows had called him that, those he liked best. +The others had even more offensive nicknames. He disliked “Loosh” very +much, but he answered to it--then. + +“Loosh! Loosh! Loosh, where are you?” + +Queer that any one should be calling him “Loosh”--any one down here +in... Eh? Where was he? He couldn't remember much except that he was +very tired--except-- + +“Loosh! Looshy! Come Looshy!” + +He staggered to his feet and, leaving the suitcase where it was, +stumbled away in the direction of the voice. The rain, pouring down upon +him, served to bring him back a little nearer to reality. Wasn't that a +light over there, that bright yellow spot in the fog? + +It was a light, a lighted doorway, with a human figure standing in it. +The figure of a woman, a woman in a dark dress and a white apron. It +must be she who was calling him. Yes, she was calling him again. + +“Loosh! Loosh! Looshy! Oh, my sakes alive! Why don't you come?” + +Mr. Bangs bumped into something. It was a gate in a picket fence and +the gate swung open. He staggered up the path on the other side of that +gate, the path which led to the doorway where the woman was standing. + +“Yes, madam,” said Galusha, politely but shakily lifting the brown +derby, “here I am.” + +The woman started violently, but she did not run nor scream. + +“My heavens and earth!” she exclaimed. Then, peering forward, she stared +at the dripping apparition which had appeared to her from the fog and +rain. + +“Here I am, madam,” repeated Mr. Bangs. + +The woman nodded. She was middle-aged, with a pleasant face and a figure +of the sort which used to be called “comfortable.” Her manner of looking +and speaking were quick and businesslike. + +“Yes,” she said, promptly, “I can see you are there, so you needn't tell +me again. WHY are you there and who are you?” + +Galusha's head was spinning dizzily, but he tried to make matters clear. + +“My name is--is--Dear me, how extraordinary! I seem to have forgotten +it. Oh, yes, it is Bangs--that is it, Bangs. I heard you calling me, +so--” + +“Heard ME calling YOU?” + +“Yes. I--I came down to the hotel--the rest--Rest--that hotel over +there. It was closed. I sat down upon the porch, for I have been ill +recently and I--ah--tire easily. So, as I say--” + +The woman interrupted him. She had been looking keenly at his face as he +spoke. + +“Come in. Come into the house,” she commanded, briskly. + +Mr. Bangs took a step toward her. Then he hesitated. + +“I--I am very wet, I'm afraid,” he said. “Really, I am not sure that--” + +“Rubbish! It's because you are wet--wet as a drowned rat--that I'm +askin' you to come in. Come now--quick.” + +Her tone was not unkind, but it was arbitrary. + +Galusha made no further protest. She held the door open and he preceded +her into a room, then into another, this last evidently a sitting room. +He was to know it well later; just now he was conscious of little except +that it was a room--and light--and warm--and dry. + +“Sit down!” ordered his hostess. + +Galusha found himself standing beside a couch, an old-fashioned sofa. It +tempted him--oh, how it tempted him!--but he remembered the condition of +his garments. + +“I am very wet indeed,” he faltered. “I'm afraid I may spoil your--your +couch.” + +“Sit DOWN!” + +Galusha sat. The room was doing a whirling dervish dance about him, but +he still felt it his duty to explain. + +“I fear you must think this--ah--very queer,” he stammered. “I realize +that I must seem--ah--perhaps insane, to you. But I have, as I say, been +ill and I have walked several miles, owing to--ah--mistakes in locality, +and not having eaten for some time, since breakfast, in fact, I--” + +“Not since BREAKFAST? Didn't you have any dinner, for mercy sakes?” + +“No, madam. Nor luncheon. Oh, it is quite all right, no one's fault but +my own. Then, when I found the--the hotel closed, I--I sat down to rest +and--and when I heard you call my name--” + +“Wait a minute. What IS your name?” + +“My name is Bangs, Galusha Bangs. It seems ridiculous now, as I tell it, +but I certainly thought I heard you or some one call me by the name my +relatives and friends used to use. Of course--” + +“Wait. What was that name?” + +Even now, dizzy and faint as he was, Mr. Bangs squirmed upon the sofa. + +“It was--well, it was Loosh--or--ah--Looshy” he admitted, guiltily. + +His hostess' face broke into smiles. Her “comfortable” shoulders shook. + +“Well, if that doesn't beat everything!” she exclaimed. “I was callin' +my cat; his name is Lucy--Lucy Larcom; sometimes we call him 'Luce' for +short.... Eh? Heavens and earth! Don't do THAT!” + +But Galusha had already done it. The dervish dance in his head had +culminated in one grand merry-go-round blotting out consciousness +altogether, and he had sunk down upon the sofa. + +The woman sprang from her chair, bent over him, felt his pulse, and +loosened his collar. + +“Primmie,” she called. “Primmie, come here this minute, I want you!” + +There was the sound of scurrying feet, heavy feet, from the adjoining +room, the door opened and a large, raw-boned female, of an age which +might have been almost anything within the range of the late teens or +early twenties, clumped in. She had a saucer in one hand and a dishcloth +in the other. + +“Yes'm,” she said, “here I be.” Then, seeing the prone figure upon the +sofa, she exclaimed fervently, “Oh, my Lord of Isrul! Who's that?” + +“Now don't stand there swearin' and askin' questions, but do as I tell +you. You go to the--” + +“But--but what AILS him? Is he drunk?” + +“Drunk? What put such a notion as that in your head? Of course he isn't +drunk.” + +“He ain't--he ain't dead?” + +“Don't be so silly. He's fainted away, that's all. He's tired out and +half sick and half starved, I guess. Here, where are you goin'?” + +“I'm a-goin' to fetch some water. They always heave water on fainted +folks.” + +“Well, this one's had all the water he needs already. The poor thing is +soaked through. You go to the pantry and in the blue soup tureen, the +one we don't use, you'll find a bottle of that cherry rum Cap'n Hallet +gave me three years ago. Bring it right here and bring a tumbler and +spoon with it. After that you see if you can get Doctor Powers on the +telephone and ask him to come right down here as quick as he can. HURRY! +Primmie Cash, if you stop to ask one more question I--I don't know what +I'll do to you. Go ALONG!” + +Miss Cash went along, noisily along. Her mistress bent over the wet, +pitiful little figure upon the sofa. + +And thus, working by devious ways, did Fate bring about the meeting of +Galusha Cabot Bangs, of the National Institute, Washington, D. C., and +Miss Martha Phipps, of East Wellmouth, which, it may be said in passing, +was something of an achievement, even for Fate. + + + +CHAPTER II + + +And in order to make clear the truth of the statement just made, namely, +that Fate had achieved something when it brought Galusha Bangs to the +door of Martha Phipps' home that rainy night in October--in order to +emphasize the truth of that statement it may be well, without waiting +further, to explain just who Galusha Cabot Bangs was, and who and what +his family was, and how, although the Bangses were all very well in +their way, the Cabots--his mother's family--were “the banking Cabots of +Boston,” and were, therefore, very great people indeed. + +“The banking Cabots” must not be confused with any other branch of the +Cabots, of which there are many in Boston. All Boston Cabots are “nice +people,” many are distinguished in some way or other, and all are +distinctly worth while. But “the banking Cabots” have been deep in +finance from the very beginning, from the earliest of colonial times. +The salary of the Reverend Cotton Mather was paid to him by a Cabot, and +another Cabot banked whatever portion of it he saved for a rainy day. +In the Revolution a certain Galusha Cabot, progenitor of the line of +Galusha Cabots, assisted the struggling patriots of Beacon Hill to pay +their troops in the Continental army. During the Civil War his grandson, +the Honorable Galusha Hancock Cabot, one of Boston's most famous bankers +and financiers, was of great assistance to his state and nation in the +sale of bonds and the floating of loans. His youngest daughter, Dorothy +Hancock Cabot, married--well, she should, of course, have married a +financier or a banker or, at the very least, a millionaire stockbroker. +But she did not, she married John Capen Bangs, a thoroughly estimable +man, a scholar, author of two or three scholarly books which few read +and almost nobody bought, and librarian of the Acropolis, a library that +Bostonians and the book world know and revere. + +The engagement came as a shock to the majority of “banking Cabots.” John +Bangs was all right, but he was not in the least “financial.” He was +respected and admired, but he was not the husband for Galusha Hancock +Cabot's daughter. She should have married a Kidder or a Higginson or +some one high in the world of gold and securities. But she did not, she +fell in love with John Bangs and she married him, and they were happy +together for a time--a time all too brief. + +In the second year of their marriage a baby boy was born. His mother +named him, her admiring husband being quite convinced that whatever she +did was sure to be exactly the right thing. So, in order to keep up the +family tradition and honors--“He has a perfect Cabot head. You see it, +don't you, John dear”--she named him Galusha Cabot Bangs. And then, but +three years afterward, she died. + +John Capen Bangs remained in Boston until his son was nine. Then his +health began to fail. Years of pawing and paring over old volumes amid +the dust and close air of book-lined rooms brought on a cough, a cough +which made physicians who heard it look grave. It was before the days +of Adirondack Mountain sanitariums. They told John Bangs to go South, +to Florida. He went there, leaving his son at school in Boston, but +the warm air and sunshine did not help the cough. Then they sent him to +Colorado, where the boy Galusha joined him. For five years he and the +boy lived in Colorado. Then John Capen Bangs died. + +Dorothy Hancock Cabot had a sister, an older sister, Clarissa Peabody +Cabot. Clarissa did not marry a librarian as her sister did, nor did +she marry a financier, as was expected of her. This was not her fault +exactly; if the right financier had happened along and asked, it is +quite probable that he would have been accepted. He did not happen +along; in fact, no one happened along until Clarissa was in her thirties +and somewhat anxious. Then came Joshua Bute of Chicago, and when wooed +she accepted and married him. More than that, she went with him to +Chicago, where stood the great establishment which turned out “Bute's +Banner Brand Butterine” and “Bute's Banner Brand Leaf Lard” and “Bute's +Banner Brand Back-Home Sausage” and “Bute's Banner Brand Better Baked +Beans.” Also there was a magnificent mansion on the Avenue. + +Aunt Clarissa had family and culture and a Boston manner. Uncle Joshua +had a kind heart, a hemispherical waistcoat and a tremendous deal of +money. Later on the kind heart stopped beating and Aunt Clarissa was +left with the money, the mansion and--but of course the “manner” had +been all her own all the time. + +So when John Bangs died, Aunt Clarissa Bute sent for the son, talked +with the latter, and liked him. She wrote to her relative, Augustus +Adams Cabot, of Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot, in Boston, who, although +still a young man, was already known as a financier, and looked out for +her various investments, saying that she found young Galusha “a nice +boy, though rather odd, like his father,” and that she thought of taking +his rearing and education into her own hands. “I have no children of +my own, Augustus. What do you think of the idea?” Augustus thought it a +good one; at least he wrote that he did. So Aunt Clarissa took charge of +Galusha Bangs. + +The boy was fourteen then, a dreamy, shy youngster, who wore spectacles +and preferred curling up in a corner with a book to playing baseball. It +was early spring when he came to live with Aunt Clarissa and before the +summer began he had already astonished his relative more than once. +On one occasion a visitor, admiring the Bute library, asked how many +volumes it contained. Aunt Clarissa replied that she did not know. “I +have added from time to time such books as I desired and have discarded +others. I really have no idea how many there are.” Then Galusha, from +the recess by the window, looked up over the top of the huge first +volume of Ancient Nineveh and Its Remains which he was reading and +observed: “There were five thousand six hundred and seventeen yesterday, +Auntie.” + +Aunt Clarissa started so violently that her eyeglasses fell from her +aquiline nose to the end of their chain. + +“Good heavens, child! I didn't know you were there. What did you say?” + +“I said there were five thousand six hundred and seventeen books on the +shelves here yesterday.” + +“How do you know?” + +“I counted them.” + +“COUNTED them? Mercy! What for?” + +Galusha's spectacles gleamed. “For fun,” he said. + +On another occasion his aunt found him still poring over Ancient Nineveh +and Its Remains; it was the fifth volume now, however. + +“Do you LIKE to read that?” she asked. + +“Yes, Auntie. I've read four already and, counting this one, there are +five more to read.” + +Now Aunt Clarissa had never read Ancient Nineveh herself. Her bookseller +had assured her that it was a very remarkable set, quite rare and +complete. “We seldom pick one up nowadays, Mrs. Bute. You should buy +it.” So Aunt Clarissa bought it, but she had never thought of reading +it. + +She looked down over her nephew's shoulder at the broad page with its +diagram of an ancient temple and its drawings of human-headed bulls in +bas-relief. + +“Why do you find it so interesting?” she asked. + +Galusha looked up at her. His eyes were alight with excitement. + +“They dig those things up over there,” he said, pointing to one of +the bulls. “It's all sand and rocks--and everything, but they send an +expedition and the people in it figure out where the city or the temple +or whatever it is ought to be, and then they dig and--and find it. And +you can't tell WHAT you'll find, exactly. And sometimes you don't find +much of anything.” + +“After all the digging and work?” + +“Yes, but that's where the fun comes in. Then you figure all over +again and keep on trying and trying. And when you DO find 'em there are +sculptures like this--oh, yards and yards of 'em--and all sort of queer, +funny old inscriptions to be studied out. Gee, it must be great! Don't +you think so, Auntie?” + +Aunt Clarissa's reply was noncommittal. That evening she wrote a letter +to Augustus Cabot in Boston. “He is a good boy,” she wrote, referring to +Galusha, “but queer--oh, dreadfully queer. It's his father's queerness +cropping out, of course, but it shouldn't be permitted to develop. I +have set my heart on his becoming a financier like the other Galushas in +our line. Of course he will always be a Bangs--more's the pity--but +his middle name is Cabot and his first IS Galusha. I think he had best +continue his schooling in or near Boston where you can influence +him, Augustus. I wish him well grounded in mathematics and--oh, you +understand, the financial branches. Select a school, the right sort of +school, for him, to oblige me, will you, Gus?” + +Augustus Cabot chose a school, a select, aristocratic and expensive +school near the “Hub of the Universe.” Thither, in the fall, went +Galusha and there he remained until he was eighteen, when he entered +Harvard. At college, as at school, he plugged away at his studies, +and he managed to win sufficiently high marks in mathematics. But his +mathematical genius was of a queer twist. In the practical dollars and +cents sort of figuring he was almost worthless. Money did not interest +him at all. What interested him was to estimate how many bricks there +were in “Mem” and how many more there might have been if it had been +built a story higher. + +“This room,” he said to a classmate, referring to his study in old +Thayer, “was built in ----” naming the year. “Now allowing that a +different fellow lived in it each year, which is fair enough because +they almost always change, that means that at least so many fellows,” + giving the number, “have occupied this room since the beginning. That +is, provided there was but one fellow living in the room at a time. Now +we know that, for part of the time, this was a double room, so--” + +“Oh, for the love of Mike, Loosh!” exclaimed the classmate, “cut it out. +What do you waste your time doing crazy stunts like that for?” + +“But it's fun. Say, if they had all cut their initials around on the +door frames and the--ah--mop boards it would be great stuff to puzzle +'em out and make a list of 'em, wouldn't it? I wish they had.” + +“Well, I don't. It would make the old rat hole look like blazes and it +is bad enough as it is. Come on down and watch the practice.” + +One of young Bangs' peculiar enjoyments, developed during his senior +year, was to visit every old cemetery in or about the city and examine +and copy the ancient epitaphs and inscriptions. Pleasant spring +afternoons, when normal-minded Harvard men were busy with baseball or +track or tennis, or the hundred and one activities which help to keep +young America employed in a great university, Galusha might have +been, and was, seen hopping about some grass-grown graveyard, like +a bespectacled ghoul, making tracings of winged death's-heads or +lugubrious tombstone poetry. When they guyed him he merely grinned, +blushed, and was silent. To the few--the very few--in whom he confided +he made explanations which were as curious as their cause. + +“It's great fun,” he declared. “It keeps you guessing, that's it. Now, +for instance, here's one of those skull jiggers with wings on it. See? +I traced this over at Copp's Hill last spring, a year ago. But there are +dozens of 'em all about, in all the old graveyards. Nobody ever saw a +skull with wings; it's a--a--ah--convention, of course. But who made the +first one? And why did it become a convention? And--and--why do some +of 'em have wings like this, and some of 'em crossbones like a pirate's +flag, and some of 'em no wings or bones, and why--” + +“Oh, good Lord! I don't know. Forget it. You make a noise like a hearse, +Loosh.” + +“Of course you don't know. _I_ don't know. I don't suppose anybody +knows, exactly. But isn't it great fun to study 'em up, and see the +different kinds, and think about the old chaps who carved 'em, and +wonder about 'em and--” + +“No, I'll be banged if it is! It's crazy nonsense. You've got pigeons in +your loft, Loosh. Come on out and give the birds an airing.” + +This was the general opinion of the class of 19--, that old “Loosh had +pigeons in his loft.” However, it was agreed that they were harmless +fowl and that Galusha himself was a good old scout, in spite of his +aviary. + +He graduated with high honors in the mathematical branches and in +languages. Then the no less firm because feminine hand of Aunt Clarissa +grasped him, so to speak, by the collar and guided him to the portals +of the banking house of Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot, where “Cousin Gussie” + took him in charge with the instructions to make a financier of him. + +“Cousin Gussie,” junior member of the firm, then in his early thirties, +thrust his hands into the pockets of his smart tweed trousers, tilted +from heels to toes of his stylish and very shiny shoes and whistled +beneath his trim mustache. He had met Galusha often before, but that +fact did not make him more optimistic, rather the contrary. + +“So you want to be a banker, do you, Loosh?” he asked. + +Galusha regarded him sadly through the spectacles. + +“Auntie wants me to be one,” he said. + +The experiment lasted a trifle over six months. At the end of that time +the junior partner of Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot had another interview +with his firm's most recent addition to its list of employees. + +“You're simply no good at the job, that's the plain truth,” said the +banker, with the candor of exasperation. “You've cost us a thousand +dollars more than your salary already by mistakes and forgetfulness +and all the rest of it. You'll never make your salt at this game in a +million years. Don't you know it, yourself?” + +Galusha nodded. + +“Yes,” he said, simply. + +“Eh? Oh, you do! Well, that's something.” + +“I knew it when I came here.” + +“Knew you would be no good at the job?” + +“At this job, yes.” + +“Then for heaven's sake why did you take it?” + +“I told you. Aunt Clarissa wanted me to.” + +“Well, you can't stay here, that's all. I'm sorry.” + +“So am I, for Auntie's sake and yours. I realize I have made you a lot +of--ah--trouble.” + +“Oh, that's all right, that's all right. Hang it all, I feel like a +beast to chuck you out this way, but I have partners, you know. What +will you do now?” + +“I don't know.” + +Cousin Gussie reflected. “I think perhaps you'd better go back to Aunt +Clarissa,” he said. “Possibly she will tell you what to do. Don't you +think she will?” + +“Yes.” + +“Humph! You seem to be mighty sure of it. How do you know she will?” + +For the first time a gleam, a very slight and almost pathetic gleam, of +humor shone behind Galusha's spectacles. + +“Because she always does,” he said. And thus ended his connection with +the banking profession. + +Aunt Clarissa was disgusted and disappointed, of course. She expressed +her feelings without reservation. However, she laid most of the blame +upon heredity. + +“You got it from that impractical librarian,” she declared. “Why did +Dorothy marry him? She might have known what the result would be.” + +Galusha was more downcast even than his relative. + +“I'm awfully sorry, Aunt Clarissa,” he said. “I realize I am a dreadful +disappointment to you. I tried, I honestly did, but--” + +And here he coughed, coughed lengthily and in a manner which caused his +aunt to look alarmed and anxious. She had heard John Capen Bangs cough +like that. That very afternoon the Bute family physician saw, questioned +and examined Galusha. The following day an eminent specialist did the +same things. And both doctors looked gravely at each other and at their +patient. + +Within a week Galusha was on his way to an Arizona ranch, a place where +he was to find sunshine and dry climate. He was to be out of doors as +much as possible, he was to ride and walk much, he was to do all sorts +of distasteful things, but he promised faithfully to do them, for his +aunt's sake. As a matter of fact, he took little interest in the matter +for his own. His was a sensitive spirit, although a quiet, shy and +“queer” one, and to find that he was “no good” at any particular +employment, even though he had felt fairly certain of that fact +beforehand, hurt more than he acknowledged to others. Galusha went to +Arizona because his aunt, to whose kindness and generosity he owed so +much, wished him to do so. For himself he did not care where he went or +what became of him. + +But his feelings changed a few months later, when health began to return +and the cough to diminish in frequency and violence. And then came to +the ranch where he lodged and boarded an expedition from an eastern +museum. It was an expedition sent to explore the near-by canyon for +trace of the ancient “cliff dwellers,” to find and, if need be, excavate +the villages of this strange people and to do research work among them. +The expedition was in charge of an eminent scientist. Galusha met and +talked with the scientist and liked him at once, a liking which was to +grow into adoration as the acquaintanceship between the two warmed into +friendship. The young man was invited to accompany the expedition upon +one of its exploring trips. He accepted and, although he did not then +realize it, upon that trip he discovered, not only an ancient cliff +village, but the life work of Galusha Cabot Bangs. + +For Galusha was wild with enthusiasm. Scrambling amid the rocks, +wading or tumbling into the frigid waters of mountain streams, sleeping +anywhere or not sleeping, all these hardships were of no consequence +whatever compared with the thrill which came with the first glimpse of, +high up under the bulging brow of an overhanging cliff, a rude wall and +a cluster of half ruined dwellings sticking to the side of the precipice +as barn swallows' nests are plastered beneath eaves. Then the climb +and the glorious burrowing into the homes of these long dead folk, the +hallelujahs when a bit of broken pottery was found, and the delightfully +arduous labor of painstakingly uncovering and cleaning a bit of rude +carving. The average man would have tired of it in two days, a week of +it would have bored him to distraction. But the longer it lasted and +the harder the labor, the brighter Galusha's eyes sparkled behind his +spectacles. Years before, when his aunt had asked him concerning his +interest in the books about ancient Nineveh, he had described to her the +work of the explorers and had cried: “Gee, it must be great!” Well, +now he was, in a very humble way, helping to do something of the sort +himself, and--gee, it WAS great! + +Such enthusiasm as his and such marked aptitude, amounting almost to +genius, could not help but make an impression. The distinguished savant +at the head of the expedition returned the young man's liking. Before +returning East, he said: + +“Bangs, next fall I am planning an expedition to Ecuador. I'd like to +have you go with me. Oh, this isn't offered merely for your sake, it is +quite as much for mine. You're worth at least three of the average young +fellows who have trained for this sort of thing. There will be a salary +for you, of course, but it won't be large. On the other hand, there will +be no personal expense and some experience. Will you go?” + +Would he GO? Why-- + +“Yes, I know. But there is your health to be considered. I can't afford +to have a sick man along. You stay here for the present and put in your +time getting absolutely fit.” + +“But--but I AM fit.” + +“Um--yes; well, then, get fitter.” + +Galusha went to Ecuador. Aunt Clarissa protested, scolded, declared him +insane--and capitulated only when she found that he was going anyhow. He +returned from the expedition higher than ever in favor with his chief. +He was offered a position in the archeological department of the museum. +He accepted first and then told Aunt Clarissa. + +That was the real beginning. After that the years rolled placidly along. +He went to Egypt, under his beloved chief, and there found exactly what +he had dreamed. The desert, the pyramids, the sculptures, the ancient +writings, the buried tombs and temples--all those Galusha saw and took, +figuratively speaking, for his own. On his return he settled down to +the study of Egyptology, its writings, its history, its every detail. He +made another trip to the beloved land and distinguished himself and his +museum by his discoveries. His chief died and Galusha was offered the +post left vacant. He accepted. Later--some years later--he was called to +the National Institute at Washington. + +When he was thirty-seven his Aunt Clarissa died. She left all her +property to her nephew. But she left it in trust, in trust with Cousin +Gussie. There was a letter to the latter in the envelope with the will. +“He is to have only the income, the income, understand--until he is +forty-five,” Aunt Clarissa had written. “Heaven knows, I am afraid +even THAT is too young for a child such as he is in everything except +pyramids.” + +Cousin Gussie, now the dignified and highly respected senior partner +of Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot, took charge of the Bute--now the +Bangs--property. There was not as much of it as most people had +supposed; since Uncle Joshua passed on certain investments had gone +wrong, but there was income enough to furnish any mortal of ordinary +tastes with the means of gratifying them and still have a substantial +residue left. Galusha understood this, in a vague sort of way, but he +did not care. Outside of his beloved profession he had no tastes and +no desires. Life for him was, as Cousin Gussie unfeelingly put it, “one +damned mummy after the other.” In fact, after the arrival of the first +installment of income, he traveled posthaste to the office of his Boston +relative and entered a protest. + +“You--you mustn't send any more, really you mustn't,” he declared, +anxiously. “I don't know what to do with it.” + +“DO with it? Do with the money, you mean?” + +“Yes--yes, that's it.” + +“But don't you need it to live on?” + +“Oh, dear me, no!” + +“What DO you live on?” + +“Why, my salary.” + +“How much is your salary, if you don't mind telling us?” + +Galusha did not in the least mind. The figure he named seemed a small +one to his banking relative, used to big sums. + +“Humph!” grunted the latter; “well, that isn't so tremendous. They don't +overpay you mummy-dusters, do they? And you really don't want me to send +you any more?” + +“No, not if you're sure you don't mind.” + +“Oh, I don't mind. Then you want me to keep it and reinvest it for you; +is that it?” + +“I--I think so. Yes, reinvest it or--ah--something.” + +“But you may need some of it occasionally. If you do you will notify me, +of course.” + +“Oh, yes; yes, indeed. Thank you very much. It's quite a weight off my +mind, really it is.” + +Cabot could not help laughing. Then a thought struck him. + +“Did you bring back the check I sent you?” he asked. Galusha looked +somewhat confused. + +“Why, why, no, I didn't,” he admitted. “I had intended to, but you +see--Dear me, dear me, I hope you will feel that I did right. You see, +our paleontological department had been hoping to fit out an expedition +to the Wyoming fossil fields, but it was lamentably short of funds, +appropriations--ah--and so on. Hambridge and I were talking of the +matter. A very adequate man indeed, Hambridge. Possibly you've read some +of his writings. He wrote Lesser Reptilian Life in the Jurassio. Are you +acquainted with that?” + +Cousin Gussie shook his head. “Never have been introduced,” he observed, +with a chuckle. Galusha noted the chuckle and smiled. + +“I imagine not,” he observed. “I fear it isn't what is called +a--ah--best seller. Well--ah--Dear me, where was I? Oh, yes! Hambridge, +poor fellow, was very much upset at the prospect of abandoning his +expedition and I, knowing from experience what such a disappointment +means, sympathized with him. Your check was at that moment lying on my +desk. So--so--It was rather on the spur of the moment, I confess--I--” + +The banker interrupted. + +“Are you trying to tell me,” he demanded, “that you handed that check +over to that other--that other--” + +He seemed rather at a loss for the word. + +Galusha nodded. + +“To finance Hambridge's expedition? Yes,” he said. + +“ALL of it?” + +“Yes--ah--yes.” + +“Well, by George!” + +“Perhaps it was impulsive on my part. But, you see, Hambridge DID need +the money. And of course I didn't. The only thing that troubles me is +the fact that, after all, it was money Aunt Clarissa left to me and I +should prefer to do what she would have liked with it. I fear she might +not have liked this.” + +Cabot nodded, grimly. He had known Aunt Clarissa very, very well. + +“You bet she wouldn't,” he declared. + +“Yes. So don't send me any more, will you? Ah--not unless I ask for it.” + +“No, I won't.” Then he added, “And not then unless I know WHY you ask +for it, you can bet on that.” + +Galusha was as grateful as if he had been granted a great favor. As they +walked through the outer office together he endeavored to express his +feelings. + +“Thank you, thank you very much, Cousin Gussie,” he said, earnestly. His +relative glanced about at the desks where rows of overjoyed clerks were +trying to suppress delighted grins and pretend not to have heard. + +“You're welcome, Loosh,” he said, as they parted at the door, “but don't +you ever dare call me 'Cousin Gussie' again in public as long as you +live.” + +Galusha Bangs returned to his beloved work at the National Institute +and his income was reinvested for him by the senior partner of Cabot, +Bancroft and Cabot. Occasionally Galusha requested that a portion of +it be sent him, usually for donation to this department or that or to +assist in fitting out an expedition of his own, but, generally speaking, +he was quite content with his modest salary. He unwrapped his mummies +and deciphered his moldering papyri, living far more in ancient Egypt +than in modern Washington. The Great War and its demands upon the youth +of the world left the Institute short-handed and he labored harder than +ever, doing the work of two assistants as well as his own. It was the +only thing he could do for his country, the only thing that country +would permit him to do, but he tried to do that well. Then the +Hindenburg line was broken, the armistice was signed and the civilized +world rejoiced. + +But Galusha Bangs did not rejoice, for his health had broken, like the +enemy's resistance, and the doctors told him that he was to go away at +once. + +“You must leave all this,” commanded the doctor; “forget it. You must +get away, get out of doors and stay out.” + +For a moment Galusha was downcast. Then he brightened. + +“There is an expedition from the New York museum about to start for +Syria,” he said. “I am quite sure I would be permitted to accompany it. +I'll write at once and--” + +“Here, here! Wait! You'll do nothing of the sort. I said forget that +sort of thing. You can't go wandering off to dig in the desert; you +might as well stay in this place and dig here. Get away from it all. Go +where there are people.” + +“But, Doctor Raymond, there are people in Syria, a great many of them, +and most interesting people. I have--” + +“No. You are to forget Syria and Egypt and your work altogether. Keep +out of doors, meet people, exercise--play golf, perhaps. The main +trouble with you just now is nerve weariness and lack of strength. Eat, +sleep, rest, build up. Eat regular meals at regular times. Go to bed at +a regular hour. I would suggest your going to some resort, either in the +mountains or at the seashore. Enjoy yourself.” + +“But, doctor, I DON'T enjoy myself at such places. I am quite wretched. +Really I am.” + +“Look here, you must do precisely as I tell you. Your lungs are quite +all right at present, but, as you know, they have a tendency to become +all wrong with very little provocation. I tell you to go away at once, +at once. And STAY away, for a year at least. If you don't, my friend, +you are going to die. Is that plain?” + +It was plain, certainly. Galusha took off his spectacles and rubbed +them, absently. + +“Dear me!... Dear me!--ah--Oh, dear!” he observed. + +A resort? Galusha knew precious little about resorts; they were places +he had hitherto tried to avoid. He asked his stenographer to name a +resort where one would be likely to meet--ah--a good many people and +find--ah--air and--ah--that sort of thing. The stenographer suggested +Atlantic City. She had no idea why he asked the question. + +Galusha went to Atlantic City. Atlantic City in August! Two days of +crowds and noise were sufficient. A crumpled, perspiring wreck, he +boarded the train bound for the mountains. The White Mountains were his +destination. He had never visited them, but he knew them by reputation. + +The White Mountains were not so bad. The crowds at the hotels were not +pleasant, but one could get away into the woods and walk, and there was +an occasional old cemetery to be visited. But as the fall season drew on +the crowds grew greater. People persisted in talking to Galusha when +he did not care to be talked to. They asked questions. And one had to +dress--or most DID dress--for dinner. He tired of the mountains; there +were too many people there, they made him feel “queerer” than ever. + +On his way from Atlantic City to the mountains he happened upon the +discarded magazine with the advertisement of the Restabit Inn in it. +Just why he had torn out that “ad” and kept it he was himself, perhaps, +not quite sure. The “rest” and “sea air” and “pleasant people” were +exactly what the doctor had prescribed for him, but that was not the +whole reason for the advertisement's retention. An association of ideas +was the real reason. Just before he found the magazine he had received +Mrs. Hall's postcard with its renewal of the invitation to visit the +Hall cottage at Wellmouth. And the Restabit Inn was at East Wellmouth. + +His determination to accept the Hall invitation and make the visit was +as sudden as it was belated. The postcard came in August, but it was not +until October that Galusha made up his mind. His decision was brought to +a focus by the help of Mrs. Worth Buckley. Mrs. Buckley's help had +not been solicited, but was volunteered, and, as a matter of fact, its +effect was the reverse of that which the lady intended. Nevertheless, +had it not been for Mrs. Buckley it is doubtful if Galusha would have +started for Wellmouth. + +She came upon him first one brilliant afternoon when he was sitting upon +a rock, resting his weary legs--they wearied so easily nowadays--and +looking off at the mountain-side ablaze with autumn coloring. She +was large and commanding, and she spoke with a manner, a very decided +manner. She asked him if--he would pardon her for asking, wouldn't +he?--but had she, by any chance, the honor of addressing Doctor Bangs, +the Egyptologist. Oh, really? How very wonderful! She was quite certain +that it was he. She had heard him deliver a series of lectures--oh, +the most WONDERFUL things, they were, really--at the museum some +years before. She had been introduced to him at that time, but he had +forgotten her, of course. Quite natural that he should. “You meet so +many people, Doctor Bangs--or should I say 'Professor'?” + +He hoped she would say neither. He had an odd prejudice of his own +against titles, and to be called “Mister” Bangs was the short road to +his favor. He tried to tell this woman so, but it was of no use. In +a little while he found it quite as useless to attempt telling her +anything. The simplest way, apparently, was silently and patiently to +endure while she talked--and talked--and talked. + +Memories of her monologues, if they could have been taken in shorthand +from Galusha's mind, would have been merely a succession of “I” and +“I” and “I” and “Oh, do you really think so, Doctor Bangs?” and “Oh, +Professor!” and “wonderful” and “amazing” and “quite thrilling” and much +more of the same. + +She followed him when he went to walk; that is, apparently she did, for +he was continually encountering her. She came and sat next him on the +hotel veranda. She bowed and smiled to him when she swept into the +dining room at meal times. Worst of all, she told others, many others, +who he was, and he was aware of being stared at, a knowledge which made +him acutely self-conscious and correspondingly miserable. There was a +Mr. Worth Buckley trotting in her wake, but he was mild and inoffensive. +His wife, however--Galusha exclaimed, “Oh, dear me!” inwardly or aloud +whenever he thought of her. + +And she WOULD talk of Egypt. She and her husband had visited Cairo once +upon a time, so she felt herself as familiar with the whole Nile basin +as with the goldfish tank in the hotel lounge. To Galusha Egypt was an +enchanted land, a sort of paradise to which fortunate explorers might +eventually be permitted to go if they were very, very good. To have +this sacrilegious female patting the Sphinx on the head was more than he +could stand. + +So he determined to stand it no longer; he ran away. One evening Mrs. +Buckley informed him that she and a little group--“a really select +group, Professor Bangs”--of the hotel inmates were to picnic somewhere +or other the following day. “And you are to come with us, Doctor, +and tell us about those wonderful temples you and I were discussing +yesterday. I have told the others something of what you told me and they +are quite WILD to hear you.” + +Galusha was quite wild also. He went to his room and, pawing amid the +chaos of his bureau drawer for a clean collar, chanced upon the postcard +from Mrs. Hall. The postcard reminded him of the advertisement of the +Restabit Inn, which was in his pocketbook. Then the idea came to him. +He would go to the Hall cottage and make a visit of a day or two. If he +liked the Cape and Wellmouth he would take lodgings at the Restabit +Inn and stay as long as he wished. The suspicion that the inn might +be closed did not occur to him. The season was at its height in the +mountains, and Atlantic City, so they had told him there, ran at full +blast all the year. So much he knew, and the rest he did not think +about. + +He spent most of that night packing his trunk and his suitcase. He left +word for the former to be sent to him by express and the latter he took +with him. He tiptoed downstairs, ate a hasty breakfast, and took the +earliest train for Boston, The following afternoon he started upon his +Cape Cod pilgrimage, a pilgrimage which was to end in a fainting fit +upon the sofa in Miss Martha Phipps' sitting room. + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The fainting fit did not last long. When Galusha again became interested +in the affairs of this world it was to become aware that a glass +containing something not unpleasantly fragrant was held directly beneath +his nose and that some one was commanding him to drink. + +So he drank, and the fragrant liquid in the tumbler descended to his +stomach and thence, apparently, to his fingers and toes; at all events +those chilled members began to tingle agreeably. Mr. Bangs attempted to +sit up. + +“No, no, you stay right where you are,” said the voice, the same voice +which had urged him to drink. + +“But really I--I am quite well now. And your sofa--” + +“Never mind the sofa. You aren't the first soakin' wet mortal that has +been on it. No, you mind me and stay still.... Primmie!” + +“Yes'm. Here I be.” + +“Did you get the doctor on the 'phone?” + +“Yes'm. He said he'd be right down soon's ever he could. He was kind of +fussy 'long at fust; said he hadn't had no supper and was wet through, +and all such talk's that. But I headed HIM off, my savin' soul, yes! +Says I, 'There's a man here that's more'n wet through; he ain't had a +thing but rum since I don't know when.'” + +“Heavens and earth! WHAT did you tell him that for?” + +“Why, it's so, ain't it, Miss Marthy? You said yourself he was starved.” + +“But what did you tell him about the rum for? Never mind, never mind. +Don't stop to argue about it. You go out and make some tea, hot tea, and +toast some bread. And hurry, Primmie--HURRY!” + +“Yes'm, but--” + +“HURRY!... And Primmie Cash, if you scorch that toast-bread I'll scrape +off the burned part and make you eat it, I declare I will. Now you lie +right still, Mr.--er--Bangs, did you say your name was?” + +“Yes, but really, madam--” + +“My name is Phipps, Martha Phipps.” + +“Really. Mrs. Phipps--” + +“Miss, not Mrs.” + +“I beg your pardon. Really, Miss Phipps, I cannot permit you to take +so much trouble. I must go on, back to the village--or--or somewhere. +I--Dear me?” + +“What is it?” + +“Nothing, nothing, my head is rather confused--dizzy. I shall be all +right again, shortly. I am ashamed of myself.” + +“You needn't be. Anybody that has walked 'way down here, a night like +this, on an empty stomach--” She paused, laughed, and exclaimed, “Of +course, I don't mean you walked on your stomach, exactly, Mr. Bangs.” + +Galusha smiled, feebly. “There were times when I began to think I should +be forced to,” he said. + +“I don't doubt it. There, there! now don't try to talk any more till +you've had something to eat. Doctor Powers will be here pretty soon; it +isn't very far--in an automobile. I'm afraid he's liable to have a queer +notion of what's the matter with you. The idea of that Primmie tellin' +him you hadn't had anything but rum for she didn't know how long! My, +my! Well, 'twas the truth, but it bears out what my father used to say, +that a little truth was like a little learnin', an awfully dangerous +thing.... There, there! don't talk. I'll talk for both of us. I have a +faculty that way--father used to say THAT, too,” she added, with a broad +smile. + +When Doctor Powers did arrive, which was about fifteen minutes later, +he found the patient he had come to see drinking hot tea and eating +buttered toast. He was sitting in a big rocker with his steaming shoes +propped against the stove. Miss Phipps introduced the pair and explained +matters to the extent of her knowledge. Galusha added the lacking +details. + +The doctor felt the Bangs' pulse and took the Bangs temperature. The +owner of the pulse and temperature made feeble protests, declaring +himself to be “perfectly all right, really” and that he must be going +back to the village. He couldn't think of putting every one to so much +trouble. + +“And where will you go when you get back to the village?” asked Doctor +Powers. + +“Why, to the--ah--hotel. I presume there is a hotel.” + +“No, there isn't. The Inn across the road here is the only hotel in East +Wellmouth, and that is closed for the season.” + +“Dear me, doctor! Dear me! Well, perhaps I may be able to hire +a--ah--car or wagon or something to take me to Wellmouth. I have +friends in Wellmouth; I intended visiting them. Do you know Professor +Hall--ah--George Hall, of New York?” + +“Yes, I know him well. He and his family are patients of mine. But the +Halls are not in Wellmouth now.” + +“They are not?” + +“No, they went back to New York two weeks or more ago. Their cottage is +closed.” + +“Dear me!... Oh, dear!... Why, but--but there IS a hotel at Wellmouth?” + +“Yes, a kind of hotel, but you mustn't think of going there to-night.” + Then, with a motion of his hand, he indicated to Miss Phipps that he +wished to speak with her alone. She led the way to the kitchen and he +followed. + +“Martha,” he said, when the door closed, “to be absolutely honest with +you, that man in there shouldn't go out again to-night. He has been half +sick for some time, I judge from what he has told me, and he is weak and +worn out from his tramp and wetting.” + +Miss Phipps shook her head impatiently. + +“The idea of Raish Pulcifer's cartin' him 'way over here and then +leavin' him in the middle of the road,” she said. “It's just like +Raish, but that doesn't help it any; nothin' that's like Raish helps +anything--much,” she added. + +The doctor laughed. + +“I'm beginning to believe you're right, Martha,” he agreed. + +“I'm pretty sure I am. I think I know Raish Pulcifer by this time; I +almost wish I didn't. Father used to say that if ignorance was bliss the +home for feeble-minded folks ought to be a paradise. But I don't +know; sometimes I wish I wasn't so wise about some things; I might be +happier.” + +Her pleasant, comely face had clouded over. Doctor Powers thought he +understood why. + +“Haven't heard anything hopeful about the Wellmouth Development Company, +have you?” he asked. + +“Not a word. I've almost given up expectin' to. How about you?” + +“Oh, I've heard nothing new. Well, I've got only ten shares, so the +loss, if it is a loss, won't break me. But Cap'n Jethro went in rather +heavily, so they say.” + +“I believe he did.” + +“Yes. Well, it may be all right, after all. Raish says all we need is +time.” + +“Um-hm. And that's all the Lord needed when He made the world. He made +it in six days. Sometimes when I'm out of sorts I wonder if one +more week wouldn't have given us a better job.... But there, that's +irreverent, isn't it, and off the track besides? Now about this little +Bangs man. What ought to be done with him?” + +“Well, as I say, he shouldn't go out to-night. Of course he'll have to.” + +“Why will he have to?” + +“Because he needs to go to bed and sleep. I thought perhaps I could get +him down to the light and Cap'n Jethro and Lulie could give him a room.” + +“There's a room here. Two or three of 'em, as far as that goes. He isn't +very big; he won't need more than one.” + +“But, Martha, I didn't know how you would feel about taking a strange +man into your house, at night, and--” + +Miss Phipps interrupted him. + +“Heavens and earth, doctor!” she exclaimed, “what DO you think I am? I'm +forty-one years old next August and I weigh--Well, I won't tell you +what I weigh, but I blush every time I see the scales. If you think I'm +afraid of a little, meek creature like the one in the sittin' room you +never made a bigger mistake. And there's Primmie to help me, in case I +need help, which I shan't. Besides he doesn't look as if he would run +off with the spoons, now does he?” + +Doctor Powers laughed heartily. “Why, no, he doesn't,” he admitted. “I +think you'll find him a quiet little chap.” + +“Yes. And he isn't able to half look after himself when he's well, to +say nothin' of when he's sick. Anybody--any woman, anyhow--could tell +that just by lookin' at him. And I've brought up a father, so I've had +experience. He'll stay right here in the spare bedroom to-night--yes, +and to-morrow night, too, if you think he'd better. Now don't talk any +more rubbish, but go in and tell him so.” + +Her hand was on the latch of the sitting room door when the doctor asked +one more question. + +“Say, Martha,” he asked, “this is not my business, but as a friend of +yours I--Tell me: Cap'n Jim--your father, I mean--didn't put more money +than he could spare in that Development scheme, did he? I mean you, +yourself, aren't--er--likely to be embarrassed in case--in case--” + +Miss Phipps interrupted hastily, almost too hastily, so Doctor Powers +thought. + +“No, no, of course not,” she said. + +“Truly, Martha? I'm only asking as a friend, you know.” + +“Why, of course. There now, doctor, don't you worry about me. You know +what father and I were to each other; is it likely he would leave me +in trouble of any kind? Now come in and see if Primmie has talked this +little sick man of ours into another faintin' fit.” + +Primmie had not, but the “little sick man” came, apparently, very near +to fainting when told that he was to occupy the Phipps' spare bedroom +overnight. Oh, he could not possibly do such a thing, really he couldn't +think of it! “Dear me, Miss Phipps, I--” + +Miss Phipps paid absolutely no heed to his protests. Neither did the +doctor, who was giving her directions concerning some tablets. “One to +be taken now and another in the morning. Perhaps he had better stay in +bed until I come, Martha. I'll be down after breakfast.” + +“All right, doctor. Do you think he's had enough to eat?” + +“Enough for to-night, yes. Now, Mr. Bangs,” turning to the still +protesting Galusha, “you and I will go upstairs and see that you get to +bed.” + +“But, really, doctor, I--” + +“What's troublin' me, doctor,” broke in Miss Phipps, “is what on earth +to give him to sleep in. There may be a nightshirt of father's around +in one of the trunks somewhere, but I doubt it, for I gave away almost +everything of that kind when he died. I suppose he might use one of +Primmie's nightgowns, or mine, but either one would swallow him whole, +I'm afraid.” + +Doctor Powers, catching a glimpse of the expression on his patient's +face, was obliged to wait an instant before venturing to reply. Galusha +himself took advantage of the interval. + +“Why--why--” he cried, “I--Dear me, dear me, I must have forgotten it +entirely. My suitcase! I--ah--it must be on the veranda of that hotel. I +left it there.” + +“What hotel? The Restabit Inn?” + +“Yes. I--” + +He got no further. His hostess began issuing orders. A few minutes +later, Primmie, adequately if not beautifully attired in a man's oilskin +“slicker,” sou'wester, and rubber boots, clumped forth in search of the +suitcase. She returned dripping but grinning with the missing property. +Its owner regarded it with profound thankfulness. He could at least +retire for the night robed as a man and a brother. + +“Everything in there you need, Mr. Bangs?” asked Doctor Powers, briskly. + +“Oh, yes, quite, quite--ah--thank you. But really--” + +“Then you and I will go aloft, as old Cap'n Jim would have said. Cap'n +Jim Phipps was Miss Martha's father, Mr. Bangs, and there may have been +finer men, but I never met any of 'em. All ready? Good! Here, here, +don't hurry! Take it easy. Those stairs are steep.” + +They were steep, and narrow as well. Galusha went first but before he +reached the top he was extremely thankful that the sturdy physician +was behind to steady him. Miss Martha called to say that she had left a +lighted lamp in the bedroom. Beyond the fact that the room itself was of +good size Galusha noticed little concerning it, little except the bed, +which was large and patchwork-quilted and tremendously inviting. + +Doctor Powers briskly helped him to undress. The soaked shoes and +stockings made the physician shake his head. + +“Your feet are as cold as ice, I suppose, eh?” he inquired. + +“Why, a trifle chilled, but nothing--really nothing.” + +Miss Martha called up the stairs. + +“Doctor,” she called, “here's a hot-water bag. I thought probably +'twould feel comfortable.” + +Doctor Powers accepted the bag and returned to the room, shaking his +head. + +“That woman's got more sense than a--than a barn full of owls,” + he declared, solemnly. “There, Mr. Bangs, that'll warm up your +underpinning. Anything more you want? All right, are you?” + +“Oh, yes, quite, quite. But really, doctor, I shouldn't permit this. I +feel like a trespasser, like--a--a--” + +“You feel like going to sleep, that's what I want you to feel like. +Lucky the rain has driven off the fog or the foghorn would keep you +awake. It sounds like the crack of doom down here. Perhaps you noticed +it?” + +“Yes, I did--ah--at least that.” + +“I shouldn't wonder. Anybody but a graven image would notice the Gould's +Bluffs foghorn. Matches right there by the lamp, in case you want 'em. +If you feel mean in the night sing out; Martha'll hear you and come in. +I'll be on hand in the morning. Good-night, Mr. Bangs.” + +He blew out the lamp and departed, closing the door behind him. The rain +poured upon the roof overhead and splashed against the panes of the two +little windows beneath the eaves. Galusha Bangs, warm and dry for the +first time in hours, sank comfortably to sleep. + +He woke early, at least he felt sure it was early until he looked at +his watch. Then he discovered it was almost nine o'clock. He had had a +wonderful night's rest and he felt quite himself, quite well again, he-- + +Whew! That shoulder WAS a trifle stiff. Yes, and there was a little more +lameness in his ankles and knees than he could have wished. Perhaps, +after all, he would not get up immediately. He would lie there a +little longer and perhaps have the hotel people send up his breakfast, +and--Then he remembered that he was not at the hotel; he was occupying +a room in the house of a total stranger. No doubt they were waiting +breakfast for him. Dear me, dear me! + +He climbed stiffly out of bed and began to dress. This statement is not +quite correct; he prepared to begin to dress. Just as he reached +the important point where it was time to put something on he made a +startling discovery: His clothes were gone! + +It was true, they were gone, every last item of them with the +unimportant exceptions of crumpled collar and tie. Galusha looked +helplessly about the room and shivered. + +“Oh, dear me!” he cried, aloud. “Oh, dear!” + +A voice outside his chamber door made answer. + +“Be you awake, Mr. Bangs?” asked Primmie. “Here's your things. Doctor +Powers he come up and got 'em last night after you'd fell asleep and me +and Miss Martha we hung 'em alongside the kitchen stove. They're dried +out fine. Miss Martha says you ain't to get up, though, till the doctor +comes. I'll leave your things right here on the floor.... Or shall I put +'em inside?” + +“Oh, no, no! Don't, don't! I mean put them on the floor--ah--outside. +Thank you, thank you.” + +“Miss Martha said if you was awake to ask you if you felt better.” + +“Oh, yes--yes, much better, thank you. Thank you--yes.” + +He waited in some trepidation, until he heard Primmie clump downstairs. +Then he opened the door a crack and retrieved his “things.” They were +not only dry, but clean, and the majority of the wrinkles had been +pressed from his trousers and coat. The mud had even been brushed from +his shoes. Not that Galusha noticed all this just then. He was busy +dressing, having a nervous dread that the unconventional Primmie might +find she had forgotten something and come back to bring it. + +When he came downstairs there was no one in the sitting room and he had +an opportunity to look about. It was a pleasant apartment, that sitting +room, especially on a morning like this, with the sunshine streaming in +through the eastern windows, windows full of potted plants set upon wire +frames, with hanging baskets of trailing vines and a canary in a cage +about them. There were more plants in the western windows also, for the +sitting room occupied the whole width of the house at that point. +The pictures upon the wall were almost all of the sea, paintings of +schooners, and one of the “Barkentine Hawkeye, of Boston. Captain James +Phipps, leaving Surinam, August 12, 1872.” The only variations from the +sea pictures were a “crayon-enlarged” portrait of a sturdy man with an +abundance of unruly gray hair and a chin beard, and a chromo labeled +“Sunset at Niagara Falls.” The portrait bore sufficient resemblance to +Miss Martha Phipps to warrant Galusha's guess that it was intended to +portray her father, the “Cap'n Jim” of whom the doctor had spoken. The +chromo of “Sunset at Niagara Falls” was remarkable chiefly for its lack +of resemblance either to Niagara or a sunset. + +He was inspecting this work of art when Miss Phipps entered the room. +She was surprised to see him. + +“Mercy on us!” she exclaimed. “WHAT in the world are you doin' +downstairs here?” + +Galusha blushed guiltily and hastened to explain that he was feeling +quite himself, really, and so had, of course, risen and--ah--dressed. + +“But I do hope, Miss Phipps,” he added, “that I haven't kept you waiting +breakfast. I'm afraid I have.” + +She laughed at the idea. “Indeed you haven't,” she declared. “If you +don't mind my sayin' so, Mr. Bangs, the angel Gabriel couldn't keep me +waitin' breakfast till half past nine on a Saturday mornin'. Primmie and +I were up at half-past six sharp. That is, I got up then and Primmie was +helped up about five minutes afterward. But what I want to know,” she +went on, “is why you got up at all. Didn't the doctor say you were to +stay abed until he came?” + +“Why--why, yes, I believe he did, but you see--you see--” + +“Never mind. The main thing is that you ARE up and must be pretty nearly +starved. Sit right down, Mr. Bangs. Your breakfast will be ready in two +shakes.” + +“But Miss Phipps, I wish you wouldn't trouble about my breakfast. I +feel--” + +“I know how you feel; that is, I know how _I_ should feel if I hadn't +eaten a thing but toast-bread since yesterday mornin'. Sit down, Mr. +Bangs.” + +She hastened from the room. Galusha, the guilty feeling even more +pronounced, sat down as requested. Five minutes afterward she returned +to tell him that breakfast was ready. He followed her to the dining +room, another comfortable, sunshiny apartment, where Primmie, grinning +broadly, served him with oatmeal and boiled eggs and hot biscuits and +coffee. He was eating when Doctor Powers' runabout drove up. + +The doctor, after scolding his patient for disobeying orders, gave the +said patient a pretty thorough examination. + +“You are in better shape than you deserve to be,” he said, “but you are +not out of the woods yet. What you need is to gain strength, and that +means a few days' rest and quiet and good food. If your friends, the +Halls, were at their cottage at the Centre I'd take you there, Mr. +Bangs, but they're not. I would take you over to my house, but my wife's +sister and her children are with us and I haven't any place to put you.” + +Galusha, who had been fidgeting in his chair, interrupted. “Now, Doctor +Powers,” he begged, “please don't think of such a thing. I am quite well +enough to travel.” + +“Excuse me, but you are not.” + +“But you said yourself you would take me to Wellmouth if the Halls were +there.” + +“I did, but they're not there.” + +“I know, but there is a hotel there, Mr.--ah--Pulcifer said so.” + +The doctor and Miss Phipps looked at each other. + +“He said there was a hotel there,” went on Galusha. “Now if you would be +so kind as to--ah--take me to that hotel--” + +Dr. Powers rubbed his chin. + +“I should like to have you under my eye for a day or two,” he said. + +“Yes--yes, of course. Well, couldn't you motor over and see me +occasionally? It is not so very far, is it?... As to the additional +expense, of course I should expect to reimburse you for that.” + +Still the physician looked doubtful. + +“It isn't the expense, exactly, Mr. Bangs,” he said. + +“I promise you I will not attempt to travel until you give your +permission. I realize that I am still--ah--a trifle weak--weak in the +knees,” he added, with his slight smile. “I know you must consider me +to have been weak in the head to begin with, otherwise I shouldn't have +gotten into this scrape.” + +The doctor laughed, but he still looked doubtful. + +“The fact is, Mr. Bangs,” he began--and stopped. “The fact is--the +fact--” + +Martha Phipps finished the sentence for him. + +“The fact is,” she said, briskly, “that Doctor Powers knows, just as +I or any other sane person in Ostable County knows, that Elmer Rogers' +hotel at the Centre isn't fit to furnish board and lodgin' for a healthy +pig, to say nothin' of a half sick man. You think he hadn't ought to go +there, don't you, doctor?” + +“Well, Martha, to be honest with you--yes. Although I shouldn't want +Elmer to know I said it.” + +“Well, you needn't worry; he shan't know as far as I am concerned. Now +of course there's just one sensible thing for Mr. Bangs here to do, and +you know what that is, doctor, as well as I do. Now don't you?” + +Powers smiled. “Perhaps,” he admitted, “but I'd rather you said it, +Martha.” + +“All right, I'm goin' to say it. Mr. Bangs,” turning to the nervous +Galusha, “the thing for you to do is to stay right here in this house, +stay right here till you're well enough to go somewhere else.” + +Galusha rose from his chair. “Oh, really,” he cried, in great agitation, +“I can't do that. I can't, really, Miss Phipps.” + +“Of course I realize you won't be as comfortable here as you would be in +a hotel, in a GOOD hotel--you'd be more comfortable in a pigsty than you +would at Elmer's. But--” + +“Miss Phipps--Miss Phipps, please! I AM comfortable. You have made me +very comfortable. I think I never slept better in my life than I did +last night. Or ate a better breakfast than this one. But I cannot permit +you to go to this trouble.” + +“It isn't any trouble.” + +“Excuse me, I feel that it is. No, doctor, I must go--if not to the +Wellmouth hotel, then somewhere else.” + +Doctor Powers whistled. Miss Martha looked at Galusha. Galusha, whose +knees were trembling, sat down in the chair again. Suddenly the lady +spoke. + +“If this was a hotel you would be willin' to stay here, wouldn't you, +Mr. Bangs?” she asked. + +“Why, yes, certainly. But, you see, it--ah--isn't one.” + +“No, but we might make it one for three or four days. Doctor, what does +Elmer Rogers charge his inmates--his boarders, I mean--a day?” + +“Why, from three to five dollars, I believe.” + +“Tut, tut, tut! The robber! Well, I presume likely he'd rob Mr. Bangs +here as hard as he'd rob anybody. Mr. Bangs, I take it that what +troubles you mostly is that you don't want to visit a person you've +never met until last night. You've never met Elmer Rogers at all, but +you would be perfectly willin' to visit him if you could pay for the +privilege.” + +“Why--why, yes, of course, Miss Phipps. You have been very kind, so kind +that I don't know how to express my gratitude, but I can't accept any +more of your hospitality. To board at a hotel is quite a different +thing.” + +“Certainly it is. I appreciate how you feel. I should probably feel just +the same way. This house of mine isn't a hotel and doesn't pretend to +be, but if you think you can be comfortable here for the next few days +and it will make you feel happier to pay--say, three dollars a day for +the privilege, why--well, I'm satisfied if you are.” + +Galusha gazed at her in amazement. The doctor slapped his knee. + +“Splendid!” he exclaimed. “Martha, as usual you've said and done just +the right thing. Now, Mr. Bangs, I'll see you again to-morrow morning. +Take the tablets as directed. You may go out for an hour or so by and by +if the weather is good, but DON'T walk much or get in the least tired. +Good-morning.” + +He was at the door before his patient realized what he was about. + +“But, doctor,” cried Galusha, “I--I--really I--Oh, dear!” + +The door closed. He turned to Miss Phipps in bewildered consternation. +She smiled at him reassuringly. + +“So THAT'S all settled,” she said. “Now sit right down again, Mr. Bangs, +and finish your breakfast.... Primmie, bring Mr. Bangs some hot coffee. +HOT coffee I said, remember.” + +Later, perhaps ten minutes later, Galusha ventured another statement. + +“Miss Phipps,” he said, “I--I--Well, since you insist upon doing this +for me, for a person whom you never met until yesterday, I think the +very least I can do is to tell you who--or--ah--what I am. Of course +if the Halls were here they would vouch for me, but as they are not, +I--Well, in a case of this kind it is--ah--customary, isn't it, to give +references?” + +“References? As to your bein' able to pay the three dollars a day, do +you mean?” + +“Why, no, perhaps that sort of reference may not be necessary. I shall +be glad to pay each day's board in advance.” + +“Then what sort of references did you mean, references about your +character?” + +“Why--why, yes, something of the sort.” + +Her eyes twinkled. + +“Mr. Bangs,” she asked, “do you really think I ought to have 'em?” + +Galusha smiled. “For all you know to the contrary,” he said, “I may be a +desperate ruffian.” + +“You don't look desperate. Do you feel that way?” + +“Not now, but I did last--ah--evening.” + +“When you were camped out on that Inn piazza in a pourin' rain, you +mean? I don't blame you for feelin' desperate then.... Well, Mr. Bangs, +suppose we don't worry about the references on either side of this +bargain of ours. I'll take you on trust for the next two or three +days, if you'll take me. And no questions asked, as they say in the +advertisements for stolen property. Will that suit you?” + +“Perfectly, except that I think you are taking all the risk. I, +certainly, am not taking any.” + +“Hum, don't be too sure. You haven't tried much of Primmie's cookin' +yet.... Oh, by the way, what IS your business, Mr. Bangs?” + +“I am an archaeologist.” + +“Yes--oh--yes.... A--a what, did you say?” + +“An archaeologist. I specialize principally in Egyptology.” + +“Oh.... Oh, yes.” + +“Yes.” + +“Yes.... Well, I must run out to the kitchen now. Make yourself right at +home, Mr. Bangs.” + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Galusha Cabot Bangs' first day in East Wellmouth was spent for the +most part indoors. He was willing that it should he; the stiffness and +lameness in various parts of his body, together with the shakiness at +the knees which he experienced when he tried to walk, warned him that +a trip abroad would not be a judicious undertaking. The doctor having +granted him permission, however, he did go out into the yard for a brief +period. + +Gould's Bluffs and their surroundings were more attractive on this +pleasant October afternoon than on the previous evening. The Phipps +house was a story and a half cottage, of the regulation Cape Cod type, +with a long “L” and sheds connecting it with a barn and chicken yards. +The house was spotlessly white, with blinds conventionally green, as +most New England houses are. There was a white fence shutting it off +from the road, the winding, narrow road which even yet held puddles +and pools of mud in its hollows, souvenirs of the downpour of the night +before. Across the road, perhaps a hundred yards away, was the long, +brown--and now of course bleak--broadside of the Restabit Inn, its +veranda looking lonesome and forsaken even in the brilliant light of +day. Behind it and beyond it were rolling hills, brown and bare, except +for the scattered clumps of beach-plum and bayberry bushes. There were +no trees, except a grove of scrub pine perhaps a mile away. Between the +higher hills and over the tops of the lower ones Galusha caught glimpses +of the sea. In the opposite direction lay a little cluster of roofs, +with a church spire rising above them. He judged this to be East +Wellmouth village. + +The road, leading from the village, wound in and out between the hills, +past the Restabit Inn and the Phipps homestead until it ended at another +clump of buildings; a house, with ells and extensions, several other +buildings and sheds, and a sturdy white and black lighthouse. He was +leaning upon the fence rail peering through his spectacles when Primmie +came up behind him. + +“That's a lighthouse you're lookin' at, Mr. Bangs,” she observed, with +the air of one imparting valuable information. + +Galusha started; he had not heard her coming. + +“Eh? Oh! Yes, so I--ah--surmised,” he said. + +“Hey? What did you do?” + +“I say I thought it was a lighthouse.” + +“'Tis. Ever see one afore, have you?” + +Galusha admitted that he had seen a lighthouse before. “Kind of +interestin' things, ain't they? You know I never realized till I come +down here to live what interestin' things lighthouses was. There's so +much TO 'em, you know, ain't there?” + +“Why--ah--is there?” + +“I should say there was. I don't mean the tower part, though that's +interestin' of itself, with them round and round steps--What is it Miss +Martha said folks called 'em? Oh, yes, spinal stairs, that's it. I never +see any spinal stairs till I come here. They don't have 'em up to North +Mashpaug. That's where I used to live, up to North Mashpaug. Ever been +to North Mashpaug, Mr. Bangs?” + +“No.” + +“Well, a good many folks ain't, far's that goes. Where _I_ lived was +way off in the woods, anyhow. My family was Indian, way back. Not all +Indian, but some, you know; the rest was white, though Pa he used to +cal'late there might be a little Portygee strung along in somewhere. +It's kind of funny to be all mixed up that way, ain't it? Hello, there's +Cap'n Jethro! See him? See him?” + +Bangs saw the figure of a man emerge from the door of the white house +by the light and stand upon the platform. There was nothing particularly +exciting about the man's appearance, but Primmie seemed to be excited. + +“See him, Mr. Bangs?” she repeated. + +“Yes, I see him. Who is he?” + +“Don't you know? No, course you don't; why should you? He's Cap'n Jethro +Hallett, keeps the lighthouse, he does--him and Lulie and Zach.” + +“Oh, he is the light keeper, is he? What has he got his head tied up +for?” + +“Hey? HEAD tied up?” + +“Why, yes. Isn't there something gray--a--ah--scarf or something tied +about his head? I think I see it flutter in the wind.” + +“That? That ain't no scarf, them's his whiskers. He wears 'em long and +they blow consider'ble. Say, what do you think?” Primmie leaned forward +and whispered mysteriously. “He sees his wife.” + +Galusha turned to look at her. Her expression was a combination of awe +and excitement. + +“I--I beg your pardon,” he stammered, “but really I--What did you say he +did?” + +“I said he sees his wife. Anyhow, he thinks he does. She comes to him +nights and stands alongside of his bed and they talk. Ain't that awful?” + +Galusha took off his spectacles and rubbed them. + +“Ain't it awful, Mr. Bangs?” repeated Primmie. + +Galusha's faint smile twitched the corners of his lips. “We-ll,” he +observed, “I--really I can't say. I never met the lady.” + +“What difference does that make? If a dead woman come and stood +alongside of MY bed 'twouldn't make no difference to me whether I'd MET +her or not. Meetin' of her then would be enough. My Lord of Isrul!” + +“Oh--oh, I beg your pardon. Do I understand you to say that +this--ah--gentleman's wife is dead?” + +“Um-hm. Been dead seven year, so Miss Martha says. That's what I mean +when I say it's awful. Wouldn't you think 'twas awful if a woman that +had been dead seven year come and stood alongside of you?” + +Galusha smiled again. “Yes,” he admitted, “I am inclined to think +I--ah--should.” + +“You bet you would! So'd anybody but Jethro Hallet. He likes it. Yes, +sir! And he goes to every medium place from here to Boston, seems so, +so's to have more talks with them that's over the river.” + +“Eh? Over the--Oh, yes, I comprehend. Dead, you mean. Then this Mr. +Hallet is a Spiritualist, I take it.” + +“Um-hm. Rankest kind of a one. Course everybody believes in Spiritulism +SOME, can't help it. Miss Martha says she don't much and Zach Bloomer +he says he cal'lates his doubts keep so close astern of his beliefs that +it's hard to tell which'll round the stake boat first. But there ain't +no doubt about Cap'n Jethro's believin', he's rank.” + +“I see. Well, is he--is he rational in other ways? It seems odd to have +a--ah--an insane man in charge of--” + +“Insane? My savin' soul, what put that idea in your head? He ain't +crazy, Jethro Hallet ain't. He's smart. Wuth consider'ble money, so +they say, and hangs on to it, too. Used to be cap'n of a four-masted +schooner, till he hurt his back and had to stay ashore. His back's +got to hurtin' him worse lately and Zach and Miss Martha they cal'late +that's why Lulie give up her teachin' school up to Ostable and come down +here to live along with him. I heard 'em talkin' about it t'other day +and that's what they cal'late. Miss Martha she thinks a sight of Lulie.” + +“And--ah--this Miss Lulie is the light keeper's daughter?” Bangs was +not especially interested in the Hallett family, but he found Primmie +amusing. + +“Uh-hm. All the child he's got. Some diff'rent from our tribe; there was +thirteen young ones in our family. Pa used to say he didn't care long's +we didn't get so thick he'd step on ary one of us. He didn't care about +a good many things, Pa didn't. Ma had to do the carin' and most of the +work, too. Yes, Lulie's Jethro's daughter and he just bows down and +worships her.” + +“I see. I see. And is--ah--Miss Hallett as spookily inclined as her +parent?” + +“Hey?” + +“Is she a Spiritualist, too?” + +“No, no. Course she don't say much on her pa's account, but Zach says +she don't take no stock in it. Lulie has to be pretty careful, 'cause +ever since Cap'n Jethro found out about Nelse he--Hey? Yes'm, I'm +a-comin'.” + +Miss Phipps had called to her from the kitchen door. Galusha stood by +the fence a while longer. Then he went in to supper. Before he went to +his room that night he asked his landlady a question. + +“That--ah--maid of yours has a peculiar name, hasn't she?” he observed. +“Primmie. I think I never heard it before.” + +Miss Martha laughed. + +“I should say it was peculiar!” she exclaimed. “Her Christian name is +Primrose, if you can call such a name Christian. I almost died when I +heard it first. She's a queer blossom, Primmie is, a little too much tar +in her upper riggin', as father used to say, but faithful and willin' as +a person could be. I put up with her tongue and her--queerness on that +account. Some friends of mine over at Falmouth sent her to me; they knew +I needed somebody in the house after father died. Her name is Primrose +Annabel Cash and she comes from a nest of such sort of folks in the +Mashpaug woods. She provokes me sometimes, but I have a good deal of fun +with her on the whole. You ought to see her and Zacheus Bloomer together +and hear 'em talk; THEN you would think it was funny.” + +“Is this Mr.--ah--Bloomer queer also?” + +“Why, yes, I presume likely he is. Not foolish, you understand, or even +a little bit soft like Primmie. He's shrewd enough, Zach is, but he's +peculiar, that's about it. Has a queer way of talkin' and walkin'--yes, +and thinkin'. He's put in the most of his life in out-of-the-way places, +boat-fishin' all alone off on the cod banks, or attendin' to lobster +pots way down in the South Channel, or aboard lightships two miles from +nowhere. That's enough to make any man queer, bein' off by himself so. +Why, this place of assistant light keeper here at Gould's Bluffs is +the most sociable job Zach Bloomer has had for ten years, I shouldn't +wonder. And Gould's Bluffs isn't Washington Street, exactly,” she added, +with a smile. + +“Have you lived here long, Miss Phipps?” inquired Galusha. + +“Pretty nearly all my life, and that's long enough, goodness knows. +Father bought this place in 1893, I think it was. He was goin' coastin' +voyages then. Mother died in 1900 and he gave up goin' to sea that year. +He and I lived here together until two years ago next August; then he +died. I have been here since, with Primmie to help. I suppose likely I +shall stay here now until I die--or dry up with old age and blow away, +or somethin'. That is, I shall stay provided I--I can.” + +There was a change in her tone as she spoke the last words. Galusha, +glancing up, saw that she was gazing out of the window. He waited for +her to go on, but she did not. He looked out of the window also, but +there was nothing to be seen, nothing except the fields and hills, cold +and bleak in the gathering dusk. After an interval she stirred and rose +from her chair. + +“Ah, well,” she said, with a shrug, and a return to her usual brisk +manner, “there isn't a bit of use in makin' today to-morrow, is there, +Mr. Bangs? And today's been nice and pleasant, and they can't take it +from us.” + +Galusha looked very much surprised. “Why, dear me, dear me!” he +exclaimed. “That's extremely odd, now really.” + +“What?” + +“Why, your--ah--remark about making to-day to-morrow. Almost precisely +the same thing was said to me at one time by another person. It is quite +extraordinary.” + +“Oh, not so very, I guess. A million folks must have thought it and said +it since Adam. Who said it to you, Mr. Bangs?” + +“A--ah--person in Abyssinia. He had stolen my--ah--shirt and I warned +him that he should be punished on the following day. He laughed and +I asked him what there was to laugh at. Then he made the remark about +to-morrow's being afar off and that today the sun shone, or words +to that effect. It seems strange that you should say it. Quite a +coincidence, Miss Phipps, don't you think so?” + +“Why--why, I suppose you might call it that. But WHAT did you say this +man had stolen?” + +“My--ah--shirt. I had another, of course; in fact I was wearing it, but +the one he took was the only whole one remaining in my kit. I was quite +provoked.” + +“I should think you might have been. What sort of creature was he, for +goodness sakes?” + +“Oh, he was an Arab camel driver. A very good man, too.” + +“Yes, he must have been. Did you get your shirt back?” + +“No--ah--no. The fact is, he had put it on and--as he was rather--well, +soiled, so to speak, I let him keep it. And he really was a very good +man, I mean a good camel driver.” + +Miss Martha regarded her guest thoughtfully. + +“Where did you say this was, Mr. Bangs?” + +“In the Abyssinian desert. We were there at the time.” + +“Abyssinia? Abyssinia? That's in Africa, isn't it?” + +“Yes, northern Africa.” + +“Mercy me, that's a long way off.” + +“Oh, not so very, when one becomes accustomed to the journey. The first +time I found it rather tiring, but not afterward.” + +“Not afterward. You mean you've been there more than once?” + +“Yes--ah--yes. Three times.” + +“But why in the world do you go to such an outlandish place as that +three times?” + +“Oh, on research work, connected with my--ah--profession. There are some +very interesting remains in that section.” + +“What did you say your business--your profession was, Mr. Bangs?” + +“I am an archaeologist, Miss Phipps.” + +“Oh!” + +He went to his room soon afterwards. Martha went into the dining room. +A suspicious rustle as she turned the door knob caused her to frown. +Primmie was seated close to the wall on the opposite side of the room +industriously peeling apples. Her mistress regarded her intently, a +regard which caused its object to squirm in her chair. + +“It's--it's a kind of nice night, ain't it, Miss Martha?” she observed. + +Miss Martha did not answer. “Primmie Cash,” she said, severely, “you've +been listen in' again. Don't deny it.” + +“Now--now Miss Martha, I didn't mean to, really, but--” + +“Do you want to go back to the Mashpaug poorhouse again?” + +“No'm. You know I don't, Miss Martha. I didn't mean to do it, but +I heard him talkin' and it was SO interestin'. That about the camel +stealin' his shirt--my soul! And--” + +“If you listen again I WILL send you back; I mean it.” + +“I won't, ma'am. I won't. Now--” + +“Be still. Where is our dictionary? It isn't in the closet with the +other books where it ought to be. Do you know where it is?” + +“No'm.... Yes'm, come to think of it, I do. Lulie Hallet borrowed it the +other day. Her and Zach Bloomer was havin' a lot of talk about how to +spell somethin' and Lulie she got our dictionary so's to settle it--and +Zach. I'll fetch it back to-morrow mornin'.... But what do you want the +dictionary for, Miss Martha?” + +Martha shook her head, with the air of one annoyed by a puzzle the +answer to which should be familiar. + +“I'm goin' to find out what an archaeologist is,” she declared. “I ought +to know, but I declare I don't.” + +“An arky-what? Oh, that's what that little Mr. Bangs said he was, didn't +he? You know what _I_ think he is, Miss Martha?” + +“No, I don't. You go to bed, Primmie.” + +“_I_ think he's an undertaker.” + +“Undertaker! Good heavens and earth, what put that in your head?” + +“Everything. Look at them clothes he wears, black tail-coat and white +shirt and stand-up collar and all. Just exactly same as Emulous Dodd +wears when he's runnin' a funeral. Yes, and more'n that--more'n that, +Miss Martha. Didn't you hear what he said just now about 'remains'?” + +“WHAT?” + +“Didn't you ask him what he went traipsin' off to that--that camel place +for? And didn't he say there was some interestin' remains there. Uh-hm! +that's what he said--'remains.' If he ain't an undertaker what--” + +Martha burst out laughing. “Primmie,” she said, “go to bed. And don't +forget to get that dictionary to-morrow mornin'.” + +The next day was Sunday and the weather still fine. Galusha Bangs was +by this time feeling very much stronger. Miss Phipps commented upon his +appearance at breakfast time. + +“I declare,” she exclaimed, “you look as if you'd really had a good +night's rest, Mr. Bangs. Now you'll have another biscuit and another +egg, won't you?” + +Galusha, who had already eaten one egg and two biscuits, was obliged to +decline. His hostess seemed to think his appetite still asleep. + +After breakfast he went out for a walk. There was a brisk, cool wind +blowing and Miss Martha cautioned him against catching cold. She +insisted upon his wrapping a scarf of her own, muffler fashion, about +his neck beneath his coat collar and lent him a pair of mittens--they +were Primmie's property--to put on in case his hands were cold. He had +one kid glove in his pocket, but only one. + +“Dear me!” he said. “I can't think what became of the other. I'm quite +certain I had two to begin with.” + +Martha laughed. “I'm certain of that myself,” she said. “I never heard +of anybody's buying gloves one at a time.” + +Her guest smiled. “It might be well for me to buy them that way,” he +observed. “My brain doesn't seem equal to the strain of taking care of +more than one.” + +Primmie and her mistress watched him from the window as he meandered out +of the yard. Primmie made the first remark. + +“There now, Miss Martha,” she said, “DON'T he look like an undertaker? +Them black clothes and that standin' collar and--and--the kind of still +way he walks--and talks. Wouldn't you expect him to be sayin': 'The +friends of the diseased will now have a chanct to--'” + +“Oh, be still, Primmie, for mercy sakes!” + +“Yes'm. What thin little legs he's got, ain't he?” Miss Phipps did not +reply to her housemaid's criticism of the Bangs limbs. Instead, she made +an observation of her own. + +“Where in the world did he get that ugly, brown, stiff hat?” she +demanded. “It doesn't look like anything that ever grew on land or sea.” + +Primmie hitched up her apron strings, a habit she had. + +“'Twould have been a better job,” she observed, “if that camel thing +he was tellin' you about had stole that hat instead of his other shirt. +Don't you think so, Miss Martha?” + +Meanwhile Galusha, ignorant of the comments concerning his appearance, +was strolling blithely along the road. His first idea had been to visit +the lighthouse, his next to walk to the village. He had gone but a +short distance, however, when another road branching off to the right +suggested itself as a compromise. He took the branch road. + +It wound in and out among the little hills which he had noticed from +the windows and from the yard of the Phipps' house. It led past a little +pond, hidden between two of those hills. Then it led to the top of +another hill, the highest so far, and from that point Galusha paused to +look about him. + +From the hilltop the view was much the same, but more extensive. The +ocean filled the whole eastern horizon, a shimmering, moving expanse of +blue and white, with lateral stretches of light and dark green. To the +south were higher hills, thickly wooded. Between his own hill and +those others was a small grove of pines and, partially hidden by it, a +weather-beaten building with a steeple, its upper half broken off. The +building, Galusha guessed, was an abandoned church. Now an old church in +the country suggested, naturally, an old churchyard. Toward the building +with half a steeple Mr. Bangs started forthwith. + +There WAS a churchyard, an ancient, grass-grown burying ground, with +slate gravestones and weather-worn tombs. There were a few new stones, +gleaming white and conspicuous, but only a few. Galusha's trained eye, +trained by his unusual pastime of college days, saw at once that the +oldest stones must date from early colonial times. Very likely there +might be some odd variations of the conventional carvings, almost +certainly some quaint and interesting inscriptions. It would, of course, +be but tame sport for one of the world's leading Egyptologists, but to +Galusha Cabot Bangs research was research, and while some varieties were +better than others, none was bad. A moment later he was on his knees +before the nearest gravestone. It was an old stone and the inscription +and carving were interesting. Time paused there and then for Galusha. + +What brought him from the dead past to the living present was the fact +that his hat blew off. The particular stone which he was examining at +the moment was on the top of a little knoll and, as Galusha clambered +up and stooped, the breeze, which had increased in force until it was a +young gale, caught the brown derby beneath its brim and sent it flying. +He scrambled after it, but it dodged his clutch and rolled and bounded +on. He bounded also, but the hat gained. It caught for an instant on the +weather side of a tombstone, but just as he was about to pick it up, a +fresh gust sent it sailing over the obstacle. It was dashed against the +side of the old church and then carried around the end of the building +and out of sight. Its owner plunged after it and, a moment later, found +himself at the foot of a grass-covered bank, a good deal disheveled +and very much surprised. Also, close at hand some one screamed, in +a feminine voice, and another voice, this one masculine, uttered an +emphatically masculine exclamation. + +Galusha sat up. The old church was placed upon a side-hill, its rear +toward the cemetery which he had just been exploring, and its front door +on a level at least six feet lower. He, in his wild dash after the brown +derby, had not noticed this and, rushing around the corner, had been +precipitated down the bank. He was not hurt, but he was rumpled and +astonished. No more astonished, however, than were the young couple who +had been sitting upon the church steps and were now standing, staring +down at him. + +Galusha spoke first. + +“Oh, dear!” he observed. “Dear me!” Then he added, by way of making the +situation quite clear, “I must have fallen, I think.” + +Neither of the pair upon the church steps seemed to have recovered +sufficiently to speak, so Mr. Bangs went on. + +“I--I came after my hat,” he explained. “You see--Oh, there it is!” + +The brown derby was stuck fast in the bare branches of an ancient lilac +bush which some worshiper of former time had planted by the church door. +Galusha rose and limped over to rescue his truant property. + +“It blew off,” he began, but the masculine half of the pair who had +witnessed his flight from the top to the bottom of the bank, came +forward. He was a dark-haired young man, with a sunburned, pleasant +face. + +“Say, that was a tumble!” he declared. “I hope you didn't hurt yourself. +No bones broken, or anything like that?” + +Galusha shook his head. “No-o,” he replied, somewhat doubtfully. “No, I +think not. But, dear me, what a foolish thing for me to do!” + +The young man spoke again. + +“Sure you're not hurt?” he asked. “Let me brush you off; you picked up a +little mud on the way down.” + +Galusha looked at the knees of his trousers. + +“So I did, so I did,” he said. “I don't remember striking at all on the +way, but I could scarcely have accumulated all that at the bottom. Thank +you, thank you!... Why, dear me, your face is quite familiar! Haven't we +met before?” + +The young fellow smiled. “I guess we have,” he said. “I put you aboard +Lovetts' express wagon Friday afternoon and started you for Wellmouth +Centre. I didn't expect to see you over here in East Wellmouth.” + +Galusha adjusted his spectacles--fortunately they were not broken--and +looked at the speaker. + +“Why, of course!” he cried. “You are the young man who was so kind to me +when I got off at the wrong station. You are the station man at--ah--at +South Wellmouth, isn't it?” + +“That's right.” + +“Dear me! Dear me! Well, I don't wonder you were surprised to have +me--ah--alight at your feet just now. We-ll,” with his quiet smile, “I +seem to have a habit of making unexpected appearances. I surprised Miss +Phipps on Friday evening almost as greatly.” + +“Miss Phipps? Martha Phipps, Cap'n Jim's daughter; lives over here by +the light, do you mean?” + +“Why--why, yes her name is Martha, I believe.” + +“But how in the world did you get--” + +His companion interrupted him. “Why, Nelson,” she cried, “he must be +the one--the man who is staying at Martha's. Don't you know I told you +Primmie said there was some one there who was sick?” + +Galusha looked at her. She was young, not more than nineteen or twenty, +slender, brown-haired and pretty. The young man spoke again. + +“But Lulie,” he said, “he isn't sick. You aren't sick, are you?” + addressing Galusha. + +“My health has not been good of late,” replied the latter, “and after +my long walk on Friday evening I was rather done up. But I'm not ill at +present, although,” with a return of his faint smile, “I probably shall +be if I continue to--ah--fly, as I did just now.” + +The young woman broke into an irresistible trill of laughter. The South +Wellmouth station agent joined her. Galusha smiled in a fatherly fashion +upon them both. + +“I had quite a series of adventures after leaving you,” he went on. +“Quite a series--yes.” + +He told briefly of his losing his way, of his meeting with Raish +Pulcifer, of his tramp in the rain, and of his collapse in the Phipps' +sitting room. + +“So that is--ah--my Odyssey,” he concluded. “You see, we--ah--I beg your +pardon, but I don't know that I learned your name when we met the other +day. Mine is Bangs.” + +“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Bangs. My name is Howard--Nelson Howard. And +this is--” + +He paused. The young woman was regarding him in a troubled way. + +“Nelson,” she said, “don't you think, perhaps, we had better not--” + +They were both embarrassed. Galusha noticed the embarrassment. + +“Dear me! Dear me!” he said, hastily. “Please don't trouble. +Ah--good-morning. I must go--really--yes.” + +He was on his way toward the bank, but the young woman called his name. + +“Mr. Bangs,” she said. + +He turned. “Did you--did you wish to speak to me?” he asked. + +“Why--why, yes, I--Mr. Bangs, I--I want to ask a favor of you. I know, +Nelson, but what is the use, after all? We've done nothing to be ashamed +of. Mr. Bangs, my name is Hallett. My father is the keeper of the +lighthouse.” + +Galusha bowed. He had guessed her identity. Primmie had spoken of Lulie +Hallett in their conversation by the fence the day before. + +“I am Lulie Hallett,” she went on, “and--and Mr. Howard and I +are--are--” + +“We're engaged to be married,” broke in Howard. “The fact is, Mr. Bangs, +I came over on my bicycle this morning to meet Lulie here where--where +no one would see us. You see--well, Cap'n Jethro--her father, you +know--is prejudiced against me and--and so to save her trouble and--and +unpleasantness we--well, we--” + +He was red and confused and stammering. Galusha was almost as much +embarrassed. + +“Oh--oh, all right--ah--dear me, yes, of course,” he said, hastily. “I +am very sorry I--I interrupted. I beg your pardon. Ah--good-morning.” + +“But, Mr. Bangs,” Lulie pleaded, earnestly, “you won't misunderstand +this, will you? We meet in this way on my father's account. He is--you +see, he is not very well, and rather prejudiced and--and stubborn, I'm +afraid. Please don't think that--that--” + +“Of course he won't,” declared Howard. “Mr. Bangs won't think anything +that he shouldn't.” + +“Oh, no--no,” stammered Galusha, nervously. “I am--I am SO sorry I +interrupted. I BEG your pardon.” + +“And Mr. Bangs,” said Lulie, again, “I wonder if you will be kind enough +not to tell any one you saw us? This is a small place, East Wellmouth, +and people do talk--oh, dreadfully. If it got to father's ears +he--PLEASE don't speak of it, will you, Mr. Bangs?” + +“Oh, no; no, indeed, Miss Hallett. You may depend upon me.” + +“I shall tell Martha Phipps myself the next time I see her. She is my +best friend, except--” with a becoming blush--“Nelson, and father, of +course--and she understands. I never have any secrets from her.” + +Galusha began to climb the bank. As his head rose above its upper edge +he stopped. + +“Ah--dear me, there's some one coming in this direction,” he said. + +Howard started forward. “Coming? Coming here?” he cried. He sprang up +the bank beside Mr. Bangs and peered over its top. + +“Oh, confound it!” he exclaimed. “Lulie, it's your father.” + +“Father? Coming here? Why, he started for church. He never comes to the +cemetery on Sunday MORNING.” + +“I can't help it, he's coming now. And there's some one with him, or +coming after him. It looks like--Yes, it's Raish Pulcifer.” + +Miss Hallett was very much distressed. “Oh, dear, dear, dear!” she +cried. “If father finds us there will be another dreadful time. And +I wouldn't have Raish Pulcifer see and hear it, of all people in the +world. Oh, WHAT made father come? Nelson, can't we run away before he +gets here? Into the pines, or somewhere?” + +“No chance, Lulie. He would see us sure. If he should stop at the other +end of the cemetery it might give us a chance, but he probably won't. +He'll come to your mother's grave and that is close by here. Oh, hang +the luck!” + +Galusha looked at the young people; he was almost as distressed as they +were. He liked young Howard; the latter had been very kind to him on +the fateful Friday afternoon when he had alighted at South Wellmouth. +He liked Lulie, also--had fancied her at first sight. He wished he might +help them. And then he had an idea. + +“I wouldn't--ah--interfere in your affairs for the world, Miss +Hallett,” he faltered, “but if I might--ah--offer a suggestion, suppose +I--ah--meet your father and talk with him for a few moments. Then you +might--so to speak--ah--go, you know.” + +“Yes, of course, of course. Oh, WILL you, Mr. Bangs? Thank you so much.” + +Galusha climbed the bank. There was no one in sight, but he heard +masculine voices from the hollow beyond the farther end of the cemetery. +He hastened to that end and, stooping, began to examine the inscription +upon a tomb. + +The voices drew nearer as the men climbed the hill. The breeze now was +stronger than ever and was blowing more from the west. The conversation, +borne by the gusts, came to Galusha's ears clearly and distinctly. One +of the speakers seemed to be explaining, urging, the other peremptorily +refusing to listen. + +“But, Cap'n Jeth,” urged the first voice, and Mr. Bangs recognized it as +belonging to his obliging guide and pilot of the fateful Friday evening, +Mr. Horatio Pulcifer. “But, Cap'n Jeth,” said Mr. Pulcifer, “don't fly +off the handle for nothin'. I ain't tryin' to put nothin' over on you. +I'm just--” + +“I don't want to hear you,” broke in the second voice, gruffly. “This +is the Lord's Day and I don't want to talk business with you or nobody +else--especially with you.” + +For some reason this seemed to irritate Mr. Pulcifer. His tone had lost +a little of its urbanity when he answered. + +“Oh, especially with me, eh?” he repeated. “Well, what's the 'especially +with me' for? If you think I'm any more to blame than the rest, you're +mistaken. I tell you when you and me and Cap'n Jim and all hands of us +got the Wellmouth Development Company goin' it looked like a cinch. How +was I to know?” + +“I tell you, Raish, I don't want to talk about it.” + +“And I tell you, Jeth Hallett, I DO want to. You've hove in that +'especially with me' and I don't like it. Look here, what are you +pickin' on me for? How was I to--No, now you wait a minute, Cap'n Jeth, +and answer me. I've chased you 'way over here and you can give me five +minutes even if 'tis Sunday. Come, Cap'n, come, just answer me and then +I won't bother you any more.” + +There was silence for a brief interval. Galusha, crouching behind the +tomb and wondering if the time had come for him to show himself, waited +anxiously. But Captain Hallett's answer, when at last he did reply, +sounded no nearer. Apparently the men were now standing still. + +“Well,” grunted the light keeper, “I'll listen to you for the five +minutes, Raish, but no more. I hadn't ought to do that. This is Sabbath +day and I make it a p'int never--” + +“I know,” hastily, “I know. Well, I tell you, Cap'n Jeth, all's I wanted +to say was this: What are we goin' to do with this Development stock of +ours?” + +“Do with it? Why, nothin' at present. CAN'T do anything with it, can +we? All we can do is wait. It may be one year or three, but some day +somebody will have to come to us. There ain't a better place for a cold +storage fish house on this coast and the Wellmouth Development Company +owns that place.” + +“Yes, that's so, that's so. But some of us can afford to wait and some +can't. Now I've got more of the Development Company stock than anybody +else. I've got five hundred shares, Cap'n Jeth; five hundred shares +at twenty dollars a share. A poor man like me can't afford to have ten +thousand dollars tied up as long's this is liable to be. Can he now? Eh? +Can he, Cap'n?” + +“Humph! Well, I've got eight thousand tied up there myself.” + +“Ye-es, but it don't make so much difference to you. You can afford to +wait. You've got a gov'ment job.” + +“Ye-es, and from what I hear you may be havin' a state job pretty soon +yourself, Raish. Well, never mind that. What is it you're drivin' at, +anyhow?” + +“Why, I tell you, Jeth. Course you know and I know that this is a +perfectly sure investment to anybody that'll wait. I can't afford to +wait, that's what's the matter. It kind of run acrost my mind that maybe +you'd like to have my holdin's, my five hundred shares. I'll sell 'em to +you reasonable.” + +“Humph! I want to know! What do you call reasonable?” + +“I'll sell 'em to you for--for--well, say nineteen dollars a share.” + +“Humph! Don't bother me any more, Raish.” + +“Well, say eighteen dollars a share. Lord sakes, that's reasonable +enough, ain't it?” + +“Cruise along towards home, Raish. I've talked all the business I want +to on Sunday. Good-by.” + +“Look here, Jethro, I--I'm hard up, I'm desp'rate, pretty nigh. I'll +let you have my five hundred shares of Wellmouth Development Company +for just half what I paid for it--ten dollars a share. If you wasn't my +friend, I wouldn't--What are you laughin' at?” + +Galusha Bangs, hiding behind the tomb, understanding nothing of this +conversation, yet feeling like an eavesdropper, wished this provoking +pair would stop talking and go away. He heard the light keeper laugh +sardonically. + +“Ho, ho, ho,” chuckled Hallett. “You're a slick article, ain't you, +Raish? Why, you wooden-headed swab, did you cal'late you was the only +one that had heard about the directors' meetin' over to the Denboro +Trust Company yesterday? _I_ knew the Trust Company folks had decided +not to go ahead with the fish storage business just as well as you did, +and I heard it just as soon, too. _I_ know they've decided to put the +twelve hundred shares of Wellmouth Development stock into profit and +loss, or to just hang on and see if it ever does come to anything. But +you cal'lated I didn't know it and that maybe you could unload your five +hundred shares on to me at cut rates, eh? Raish, you're slick--but you +ain't bright, not very.” + +He chuckled again. Mr. Pulcifer whistled, apparently expressing +resignation. + +“ALL right, Cap'n,” he observed, cheerfully, “just as you say. No harm +in tryin', was there? Never catch a fish without heavin' over a hook, +as the feller said. Maybe somebody else that ain't heard will buy that +stock, you can't tell.” + +“Maybe so, but--See here, Raish, don't you go tryin' anything like this +on--on--” + +“I know who you mean. No danger. There ain't money enough there to buy +anything, if what I hear's true.” + +“What's that?” + +“Oh, nothin', nothin'. Just talk, I guess. Well, Jeth, I won't keep you +any longer. Goin' to hang on to YOUR four hundred Development stock, I +presume likely?” + +“Yes. I shall sell that at a profit. Not a big profit, but a profit.” + +“Sho! Is that so? Who told you?” + +“It was,” the gruff voice became solemn, “it was revealed to me.” + +“Revealed to you? Oh, from up yonder, up aloft, eh?” + +“Raish,” sharply, “don't you dare be sacrilegious in my presence.” + +“No, no, not for nothin', Cap'n. So you had a message from the sperit +world about that stock, eh?” + +“Yes. It bade me be of good cheer and hold for a small profit. When that +profit comes, no matter how small it may be, I'll sell and sell quick, +but not sooner.... But there, I've profaned the Lord's day long enough. +I came over here this mornin' to visit Julia's grave. There was a +scoffer in our pulpit, that young whippersnapper from Wapatomac had +exchanged with our minister and I didn't care to hear him.” + +“Oh, I see. So you come over to your wife's grave, eh?” + +“Yes. What are you lookin' like that for?” + +“Oh, nothin'. I thought maybe you was chasin' after Lulie. I see her +meanderin' over this way a little while ago.” + +“LULIE?” + +“Um-hm. Looked like her.” + +“Was there--was there anybody else?” + +“We-ll, I wouldn't swear to that, Cap'n Jeth. I didn't SEE nobody, +but--Godfreys mighty! What's that thing?” + +The thing was the brown derby. Galusha, crouching behind the tomb, +had been holding it fast to his head with one hand. Now, startled by +Pulcifer's statement that he had seen Miss Hallett, he let go his hold. +And a playful gust lifted the hat from his head, whirled it like an +aerial teetotum and sent it rolling and tumbling to the feet of the pair +by the cemetery gate. + +Jethro Hallett jumped aside. + +“Good Lord! What is it?” he shouted. + +“It's a--a hat, ain't it?” cried Raish. + +From around the tomb hastened Mr. Bangs. + +“Will you gentlemen be good enough to--to stop that hat for me?” he +asked, anxiously. + +The light keeper and his companion started at the apparition in +speechless astonishment. + +“It's--it's my hat,” explained Galusha. “If you will be kind enough to +pick it up before--Oh, DEAR me! There it GOES! Stop it, stop it!” + +Another gust had set the hat rolling again. Captain Jethro made a grab +at it but his attempt only lifted it higher into the air, where the wind +caught it underneath and sent it soaring. + +“Oh, dear!” piped the exasperated Galusha, and ran after it. + +“Who in tunket IS he?” demanded Jethro. + +Mr. Pulcifer gazed at the thin little figure hopping after the hat. The +light of recognition dawned in his face. + +“_I_ know who he is!” he exclaimed. “I fetched him over t'other night +in my car. But what in blazes is he doin' here NOW?... Hi, look out, +Mister! Don't let it blow that way. If you do you'll--Head it OFF!” + +The hat was following an air line due east. Galusha was following a +terrestrial route in the same direction. Now Raish followed Galusha and +after him rolled Captain Jethro Hallett. As they say in hunting stories, +the chase was on. + +It was not a long chase, of course. It ended unexpectedly--unexpectedly +for Galusha, that is--at a point where a spur of the pine grove jutted +out upon the crest of a little hill beyond the eastern border of the +cemetery. The hat rolled, bounced, dipped and soared up the hill and +just clear of the branches of the endmost pine. Then it disappeared from +sight. Its owner breathlessly panted after it. He reached the crest of +the little hill and stopped short--stopped for the very good reason that +he could go no further. + +The hill was but half a hill. Its other half, the half invisible from +the churchyard, was a sheer sand and clay bluff dropping at a dizzy +angle down to the beach a hundred and thirty feet below. This beach was +the shore of a pretty little harbor, fed by a stream which flowed into +it from the southwest. On the opposite side of the stream was another +stretch of beach, more sand bluffs, pines and scrub oaks. To the east +the little harbor opened a clear channel between lines of creaming +breakers to the deep blue and green of the ocean. + +Galusha Bangs saw most of this in detail upon subsequent visits. Just +now he looked first for his hat. He saw it. Below, upon the sand of the +beach, a round object bounced and rolled. As he gazed a gust whirled +along the shore and pitched the brown object into the sparkling waters +of the little harbor. It splashed, floated and then sailed jauntily out +upon the tide. The brown derby had started on its last voyage. + +Galusha gazed down at his lost headgear. He rubbed his chin +thoughtfully. Then he turned and looked back toward the hollow by the +front door of the old church. From the knoll where he stood he could see +every inch of that hollow and it was untenanted. There was no sign of +either human being or of a bicycle belonging to a human being. + +Mr. Bangs sighed thankfully. The sacrifice of the brown derby had not +been in vain. + + + +CHAPTER V + + +An hour or so later when Martha Phipps, looking out of her dining room +window, saw her boarder enter the front gate, his personal appearance +caused her to utter a startled exclamation. Primmie came running from +the kitchen. + +“What's the matter, Miss Martha?” she demanded. “Eh! My savin' soul!” + +Mr. Bangs' head was enveloped in the scarf which his hostess had lent +him when he set forth upon his walk. It--the scarf--was tied under +his chin and the fringed ends flapped in the wind. His round face, +surrounded by the yarn folds, looked like that of the small boy in the +pictures advertising somebody-or-other's toothache cure. + +“My savin' soul!” cried Primmie, again. She was rushing to the door, but +her mistress intervened. + +“Primmie,” she ordered, briskly, “stay where you are!” + +She opened the door herself. + +“Come right in, Mr. Bangs,” she said. “No, don't stop to tell me about +it, but come right in and sit down.” + +Galusha looked up at her. His face was speckled with greenish brown +spots, giving it the appearance of a mammoth bird's egg. Primmie saw the +spots and squealed. + +“Lord of Isrul!” she cried, “he's all broke out with it, whatever 'tis! +Shall I--shall I 'phone for the doctor, Miss Martha?” + +“Be still, Primmie. Come in, Mr. Bangs.” + +“Why, yes, thank you. I--ah--WAS coming in,” began Galusha, mildly. +“I--” + +“You mustn't talk. Sit right down here on the lounge. Primmie, get that +rum bottle. Don't talk, Mr. Bangs.” + +“But, really, Miss Phipps, I--” + +“Don't TALK.... There, drink that.” + +Galusha obediently drank the rum. Martha tenderly untied the scarf. + +“Tell me if it hurts,” she said. Her patient looked at her in surprise. + +“Why, no, it--ah--it is very nice,” he said. “I--ah--quite like the +taste, really.” + +“Heavens and earth, I don't mean the rum. I hope that won't HURT +anybody, to say the least. I mean--Why, there isn't anything the matter +with it!” + +“Matter with it? I don't quite--” + +“Matter with your head.” + +Galusha raised a hand in bewildered fashion and felt of his cranium. + +“Why--ah--no, there is nothing the matter with my head, so far as I +am aware,” he replied. “Does it look as if it were--ah--softening or +something?” + +Miss Martha ignored the pleasantry. “What have you got it tied up for?” + she demanded. + +“Tied up?” Galusha's smile broadened. “Oh, I see,” he observed. “Well, I +lost my hat. It blew off into the--ah--sea. It was rather too cold to be +about bareheaded, so I used the scarf you so kindly lent me.” + +Martha gazed at him for an instant and then burst into a hearty laugh. + +“Mercy on me!” she cried. “WHAT an idiot I am! When I saw you come +into the yard with your head bandaged--at least I thought it was +bandaged--and your face--But what IS the matter with your face?” + +“My face? Why, nothing.” + +“Nonsense! It's a sight to see. You look the way Erastus Beebe's boy did +when the cannon-cracker went off too soon. Primmie, hand me that little +lookin'-glass.” + +Primmie snatched the small mirror from the wall. + +“See, Mr. Bangs,” she cried, holding the mirror an inch from his nose. +“Look at yourself. You're all broke out with a crash--rash, I mean. +Ain't he, Miss Martha?” + +Galusha regarded his reflection in the mirror with astonishment. + +“Why, I--I seem to be--ah--polka-dotted,” he said. “I never saw anything +so--Dear me, dear me!” + +He drew his fingers down his cheek. The speckles promptly became +streaks. He smiled in relief. + +“I see, I see,” he said. “It is the lichen.” + +This explanation was not as satisfying as he evidently meant it to be. +Martha looked more puzzled than ever. Primmie looked frightened. + +“WHAT did he say 'twas?” she whispered. “'Tain't catchin', is it, Miss +Martha?” + +“It is the lichen from the tombstones,” went on Galusha. “Most of them +were covered with it. In order to read the inscriptions I was obliged to +scrape it off with my pocketknife, and the particles must have blown in +my face and--ah--adhered. Perhaps--ah--some soap and water might improve +my personal appearance, Miss Phipps. If you will excuse me I think I +will try the experiment.” + +He rose briskly from the sofa. Primmie stared at him open-mouthed. + +“Ain't there NOTHIN' the matter with you, Mr. Bangs?” she asked. “Is the +way your face is tittered up just dirt?” + +“Just dirt, that's all. It came from the old tombstones in the +cemetery.” + +Primmie's mouth was open to ask another question, but Miss Phipps closed +it. + +“Stop, Primmie,” she said. Then, turning to Galusha who was on his way +to the stairs, she asked: + +“Excuse me, Mr. Bangs, but have you been spendin' this lovely forenoon +in the graveyard?” + +“Eh? Oh, yes, yes. In the old cemetery over--ah--yonder.” + +“Humph!... Well, I hope you had a nice time.” + +“Oh, I did, I did, thank you. I enjoyed myself very much indeed.” + +“Yes, I should think you must have.... Well, come down right away +because dinner's ready when you are.” + +Galusha hastened up the stairs. His hostess gazed after him and slowly +shook her head. + +“Miss Martha, Miss Martha.” + +Martha turned, to find Primmie excitedly gesticulating. “Didn't I tell +you? Didn't I tell you?” whispered Primmie. + +“Didn't you tell me what? Stop wigglin'.” + +“Yes'm. Didn't I tell you 'undertaker'?” + +“WHAT?” + +“Undertaker. Him, the Bangs one. Yesterday 'twas remains, to-day it's +graveyards. My savin' soul, I--” + +“Hush, hush! Have you thought to get that dictionary from Lulie yet?” + +“Oh, now, ma'am, I snum if I didn't forget it. I'll go right over this +minute.” + +“No, you won't. I'll go myself after dinner.” + +That Sunday dinner was a bountiful repast and Galusha ate more than he +had eaten in three meals at his mountain hotel. He was a trifle tired +from his morning's stroll and so decided to remain indoors until the +following day. After the table was cleared Miss Phipps, leaving Primmie +to wash the dishes, went over to the light keeper's house. + +“I'll be back soon, Mr. Bangs,” she said. “If you get lonesome go out +into the kitchen and Primmie'll talk to you. Goodness gracious!” she +added, laughing, “that's a dreadful choice I'm leavin' you--lonesomeness +or Primmie. Well, I won't leave you to either long.” + +During the meal he had told them of his chance discovery of the old +church and graveyard and of the loss of the brown derby. Primmie plainly +regarded the catastrophe to the hat as a serious matter. + +“Well, now, if that ain't too bad!” she exclaimed. “Blowed right out to +sea, and 'most brand-new, too. My savin' soul, Miss Martha, folks ought +to be careful what they say, hadn't they?... Eh, hadn't they?” + +“Oh, I guess so, Primmie. I don't know what you're talkin' about. Can't +I help you to a little more of the chicken pie, Mr. Bangs? Just a little +BIT more?” + +Galusha had scarcely time to decline the third helping of chicken pie +when Primmie plunged again into the conversation. + +“Why, I mean folks ought to be careful what they say about--about +things. Now you and me hadn't no notion Mr. Bangs was goin' to lose his +hat when we was talkin' about it this mornin', had we?” + +Miss Phipps was much embarrassed. + +“Have a--a--Oh, do have a little potato or cranberry sauce or somethin', +Mr. Bangs,” she stammered. “A--a spoonful, that's all. Primmie, be +STILL.” + +“Yes'm. But you know you and me WAS talkin' about that hat when Mr. +Bangs started out walkin'. Don't you know we was, Miss Martha?” + +This was the final straw. Martha, looking about in desperation, trying +to look anywhere but into her guest's face, caught one transitory +glimpse of that face. There was a twinkle in Galusha's eye. + +“I never liked that hat myself,” he observed, dryly. + +Again their glances met and this time he smiled. Martha gave it up. + +“Oh, dear!” she exclaimed, with a laugh. “You know what they say about +children and--other folks, Mr. Bangs. Primmie, if you say another word +while we're at this table I'll--I don't know what I'll do to you. STOP! +You've said plenty and plenty more, as father used to say. Truly, Mr. +Bangs, it wasn't as bad as it sounds. I honestly DIDN'T think the hat +was becomin', that's all.” + +“Neither did I, Miss Phipps. I didn't think so when I bought it.” + +“You didn't? Then for mercy sakes why did you buy it?” + +“Well, the man said it was just the hat for me and--ah--I didn't wish to +argue, that's all. Besides, I thought perhaps he knew best; selling hats +was his--ah--profession, you see.” + +“Yes, SELLIN' 'em was. Do you always let folks like that pick out what +they want to sell you?” + +“No-o, not always. Often I do. It saves--ah--conversation, don't you +think?” + +He said nothing concerning his meeting with Miss Hallett and the South +Wellmouth station agent, but he did mention encountering Captain Jethro +and Mr. Pulcifer. Martha seemed much interested. + +“Humph!” she exclaimed. “I wonder what possessed Cap'n Jeth to go over +to the cemetery in the mornin'. He almost always goes there Sunday +afternoons--his wife's buried there--but he generally goes to church in +the mornin'.” + +Galusha remembered having heard the light keeper refer to the exchange +of preachers. Miss Phipps nodded. + +“Oh, yes,” she said, “that explains it, of course. He's down on the +Wapatomac minister because he preaches against spiritualism. But what +was Raish Pulcifer doin' in that cemetery? He didn't have anybody's +grave to go to, and he wouldn't go to it if he had. There's precious +little chance of doin' business with a person after he's buried.” + +“But I think it was business which brought Mr. Pulcifer there,” said +Galusha. “He and--ah--Captain Hallett, is it? Yes--ah--thank you. He and +the captain seemed to be having a lengthy argument about--about--well, +I'm not exactly certain what it was about. You see, I was examining +a--ah--tomb”--here Primmie shivered--“and paid little attention. It +seemed to be something about some--ah--stock they both owned. Mr. +Pulcifer wished to sell and Captain Hallett did not care to buy.” + +Martha's interest increased. “Stock?” she repeated. “What sort of stock +was it, Mr. Bangs?” + +“I didn't catch the name. And yet, as I remember, I did catch +some portion of it. Ah--let me see--Could there be such a thing as +a--ah--'ornamenting' stock? A Wellmouth ornamenting or decorating stock, +you know?” + +Miss Phipps leaned forward. “Was it Wellmouth Development Company +stock?” she asked. + +“Eh? Oh, yes--yes, I'm quite certain that was it. Yes, I think it was, +really.” + +“And Raish wanted Cap'n Jeth to buy some of it?” + +“That was what I gathered, Miss Phipps. As I say, I was more interested +at the time in my--ah--pet tomb.” + +Primmie shivered again. Miss Martha looked very serious. She was +preoccupied during the rest of the dinner and, immediately afterward, +went, as has been told, over to the Hallett house, leaving her guest the +alternative of loneliness or Primmie. + +At first he chose the loneliness. As a matter of fact, his morning's +exercise had fatigued him somewhat and he went up to his room with the +intention of taking a nap. But, before lying down, he seated himself in +the rocker by the window and looked out over the prospect of hills and +hollows, the little village, the pine groves, the shimmering, tumbling +sea, and the blue sky with its swiftly moving white clouds, the latter +like bunches of cotton fluff. The landscape was bare enough, perhaps, +but somehow it appealed to him. It seemed characteristically plain and +substantial and essential, like--well, like the old Cape Cod captains of +bygone days who had spent the dry land portion of their lives there and +had loved to call it home. It was American, as they were, American in +the old-fashioned meaning of the word, bluff, honest, rugged, real. +Galusha Bangs had traveled much, he loved the out of the way, +the unusual. It surprised him therefore to find how strongly this +commonplace, 'longshore spot appealed to his imagination. He liked it +and wondered why. + +Of course the liking might come from the contrast between the rest and +freedom he was now experiencing and the fevered chase led him at the +mountain hotel where Mrs. Worth Buckley and her lion-hunting sisters +had their habitat. Thought of the pestilential Buckley female set him +to contrasting her affectations with the kind-hearted and wholehearted +simplicity of his present hostess, Miss Martha Phipps. It was something +of a contrast. Mrs. Buckley was rich and sophisticated and--in her own +opinion--cultured to the highest degree. Now Miss Phipps was, in all +probability, not rich and she would not claim wide culture. As to her +sophistication--well, Galusha gave little thought to that, in most +worldly matters he himself was unsophisticated. However, he was sure +that he liked Miss Phipps and that he loathed Mrs. Buckley. And he liked +East Wellmouth, bareness and bleakness and lonesomeness and all. +He rather wished he were going to stay there for a long time--weeks +perhaps, months it might be; that is, of course, provided he could +occupy his present quarters and eat at the Phipps' table. If he could do +that why--why... humph! + +Instead of lying down he sat by that window for more than half an +hour thinking. He came out of his reverie slowly, gradually becoming +conscious of a high-pitched conversation carried on downstairs. He had +left his chamber door open and fragments of this conversation came up +the staircase. It was Primmie's voice which he heard most frequently +and whatever words he caught were hers. There was a masculine grumble at +intervals but this was not understandable on the second floor. + +“Now I know better.... My savin' soul, how you do talk, Zach Bloomer!... +And I says to her, says I, 'Miss Martha,' I says.... My Lord of +Isrul!...” + +These were some of the “Primmieisms” which came up the staircase. +Galusha rose to close his door but before he could accomplish this feat +his own name was called. + +“Mr. Bangs!” screamed Primmie. “Mr. Bangs, be you layin' down? You ain't +asleep, be you, Mr. Bangs?” + +If he had been as sound asleep as Rip Van Winkle that whoop would have +aroused him. He hastened to assure the whooper that he was awake and +afoot. + +“Um-hm,” said Primmie, “I'm glad of that. If you'd been layin' down I +wouldn't have woke you up for nothin'. But I want to ask you somethin', +Mr. Bangs. Had you just as soon answer me somethin' if I ask it of you, +had you, Mr. Bangs?” + +“Yes, Primmie.” + +“Just as soon's not, had you?” + +“Yes, quite as soon.” + +“All right. Then I--I... Let me see now, what was it I was goin' to ask? +Zach Bloomer, stop your makin' faces, you put it all out of my head. +It's all right, Mr. Bangs, I'll think of it in a minute. Oh, you're +comin' down, be you?” + +Galusha was coming down. It seemed to be the advisable thing to do. Miss +Cash was doing her “thinking” at the top of her lungs and the process +was trying to one with uneasy nerves. He entered the sitting room. +Primmie was there, of course, and with her was a little, thin man, with +a face sunburned to a bright, “boiled-lobster” red, and a bald head +which looked amazingly white by contrast, a yellowish wisp of mustache, +and an expression of intense solemnity, amounting almost to gloom. He +was dressed in the blue uniform of the lighthouse service and a blue cap +lay on the table beside him. + +“Mr. Bangs,” announced Primmie, “this is Mr. Zach Bloomer. Zach, +make you acquainted with Mr. Bangs, the one I was tellin' you about. +Mr.--Mr.--Oh, my savin' soul, what IS your first name, Mr. Bangs?” + +“Galusha, Primmie. How do you do, Mr. Bloomer?” + +The little man rose upon a pair of emphatically bowed legs and shook +hands. “I'm pretty smart,” he observed, in a husky voice. Then he sat +down again. Galusha, after waiting a moment, sat down also. Primmie +seemed to be wrestling with a mental problem, but characteristically she +could not wrestle in silence. + +“What was it I wanted to ask you, Mr. Bangs?” she said. “I snum I can't +think! Zach, what was it I wanted to ask Mr. Bangs?” + +Mr. Bloomer paid not the slightest attention to the question. His sad +blue eye was fixed upon vacancy. + +“Galushy--Galushy,” he said, huskily. “Huh!” + +Galusha was, naturally, rather startled. + +“Eh? I--ah--beg your pardon,” he observed. + +“I was thinkin' about names,” explained Mr. Bloomer. “Queer things, +names are, ain't they? Zacheus and Galushy.... Godfreys!” + +He paused a moment and then added: + + + “'Zacheus he + Did climb a tree + His Lord to see.' + + +Well, if he wan't any taller'n I be he showed good jedgment.... Zacheus +and Galushy and Primrose!... Godfreys!” + +Primmie was shocked. “Why, Zach Bloomer!” she exclaimed. “The idea of +your talkin' so about a person's name you never met but just now in your +lifetime.” + +Zacheus regarded the owner of the name. + +“No offense meant and none given, Mr. Bangs,” he observed. “Eh? That's +right, ain't it?” + +“Certainly, certainly, Mr. Bloomer. I'm not in the least offended.” + +“Um-hm. Didn't cal'late you would be. Can't help our names, can we? If +my folks had asked me aforehand I'd a-been named plain John. As 'tis, my +name's like my legs, growed that way and it's too late to change.” + +Galusha smiled. + +“You're a philosopher, I see, Mr. Bloomer,” he said. + +“He's assistant keeper over to the lighthouse,” explained Primmie. As +before, Zach paid no heed. + +“I don't know as I'd go so far as to call myself that,” he said. “When +I went to school the teacher told us one time about an old critter who +lived in a--in a tub, seem's if 'twas. HE was one of them philosophers, +wan't he?” + +“Yes. Diogenes.” + +“That's the cuss. Well, I ain't never lived in a tub, but I've spent +consider'ble time ON one; I was aboard a lightship for five or six year. +Ever lived aboard a lightship, Mr. Bangs?” + +“No.” + +“Humph!... Don't feel disapp'inted on that account, do you?” + +“Why--ah--no, I don't know that I do.” + +“Ain't no occasion. 'Bout the same as bein' in jail, 'tis--only a jail +don't keep heavin' up and down. First week or so you talk. By the second +week the talk's all run out of you, like molasses out of a hogshead. +Then you set and think.” + +“I see. And so much thinking tends to bring out--ah--philosophy, I +suppose.” + +“Huh! Maybe so. So much settin' wears out overalls, I know that.” + +Primmie interrupted. + +“I've got it!” she cried, enthusiastically. “_I_ know now!” + +Galusha started nervously. Primmie's explosiveness was disturbing. It +did not disturb Mr. Bloomer, however. + +“Posy here'd be a good hand aboard a lightship,” he observed. “Her +talk'd NEVER run out.” + +Primmie sniffed disgust. “I wish you wouldn't keep callin' me 'Posy' +and such names, Zach Bloomer,” she snapped. “Yesterday he called me 'Old +Bouquet,' Mr. Bangs. My name's Primrose and he knows it.” + +The phlegmatic Zacheus, whose left leg had been crossed above his right, +now reversed the crossing. + +“A-ll right--er Pansy Blossom,” he drawled. “What is it you're trying to +tell us you know? Heave it overboard.” + +“Hey?... Oh, I mean I've remembered what 'twas I wanted to ask you, Mr. +Bangs. Me and Zach was talkin' about Miss Martha. I said it seemed to +me she had somethin' on her mind, was sort of worried and troubled about +somethin', and Zach--” + +For the first time the assistant light keeper seemed a trifle less +composed. + +“There, there, Primmie,” he began. “I wouldn't--” + +“Be still, Zach Bloomer. You know you want to find out just as much as I +do. Well, Zach, he cal'lated maybe 'twas money matters, cal'lated maybe +she was in debt or somethin'.” + +Mr. Bloomer's discomfiture was so intense as to cause him actually to +uncross his legs. + +“Godfreys, Prim!” he exclaimed. “Give you a shingle and a +pocket-handkercher and you'll brag to all hands you've got a full-rigged +ship. I never said Martha was in debt. I did say she acted worried to +me and I was afraid it might be account of some money business. She was +over to the light just now askin' for Cap'n Jeth, and he's the one her +dad, Cap'n Jim Phipps, used to talk such things with. They went into a +good many trades together, them too.... But there, 'tain't any of your +affairs, is it, Mr. Bangs--and 'tain't any of Primmie's and my business, +so we'd better shut up. Don't say nothin' to Martha about it, Mr. Bangs, +if you'd just as soon. But course you wouldn't anyhow.” + +This was a tremendously long speech for Mr. Bloomer. He sighed at its +end, as if from exhaustion; then he crossed his legs again. Galusha +hastened to assure him that he would keep silent. Primmie, however, had +more to say. + +“Why, Zach Bloomer,” she declared, “you know that wan't only part of +what you and me was sayin'. That wan't what I wanted to ask Mr. Bangs. +YOU said if 'twas money matters or business Miss Martha went to see +Cap'n Jeth about you cal'lated the cap'n would be cruisin' up to Boston +to see a medium pretty soon.” + +“The old man's Speritu'list,” exclaimed Zach. “Always goes to one of +them Speritu'list mediums for sailin' orders.” + +“Now you let me tell it, Zach. Well, then _I_ said I wondered if you +wan't a kind of medium, Mr. Bangs. And Zach, he--” + +Galusha interrupted this time. + +“_I_--a medium!” he gasped. “Well, really, I--ah--oh, dear! Dear me!” + +“AIN'T you a kind of medium, Mr. Bangs?” + +“Certainly not.” + +“Well, I thought undertakin' was your trade till Miss Martha put her +foot down on the notion and shut me right up. You AIN'T an undertaker, +be you?” + +“An undertaker?... Dear me, Primmie, you--ah--well, you surprise me. +Just why did you think me an undertaker, may I ask?” + +“Why, you see, 'cause--'cause--well, you was talkin' yesterday about +interestin' remains and--and all this forenoon you was over in the +cemetery and said you had such a good time there and... and I couldn't +see why anybody, unless he was an undertaker, or--or a medium maybe, +would call bein' around with dead folks havin' a good time... Quit your +laughin', Zach Bloomer; you didn't know what Mr. Bangs' trade was any +more'n I did.” + +Mr. Bloomer cleared his throat. “Mr. Bangs,” he observed sadly, “didn't +I tell you she'd make a ship out of a shingle? If you'd puffed smoke, +and whistled once in a while, she'd have cal'lated you must be a +tugboat.” + +Galusha smiled. + +“I am an archaeologist,” he said. “I think I told you that, Primmie.” + +Primmie looked blank. “Yes,” she admitted, “you did, but--” + +Zacheus finished the sentence. + +“But you didn't tell TOO much when you told it,” he said. “What kind of +an ark did you say?” + +And then Galusha explained. The fact that any one in creation should +not know what an archaeologist was seemed unbelievable, but a fact it +evidently was. So he explained and the explanation, under questioning, +became lengthy. Primmie's exclamations, “My savin' soul” and “My Lord of +Isrul” became more and more frequent. Mr. Bloomer interjected a remark +here and there. At length a sound outside caused him to look out of the +window. + +“Here comes the old man and Martha,” he said. “Cal'late I'd better be +gettin' back aboard. Can't leave Lulie to tend light all the time. +Much obliged to you, Mr. Bangs. You've cruised around more'n I give you +credit for. Um-hm. Any time you want to know about a lightship or--or +lobsterin' or anything, I'd be pleased to tell you. Good-day, sir. So +long--er--Sweet William. See you later.” + +The “Sweet William” was addressed to Primmie, of course. The bow-legged +little man, rolling from side to side like the lightship of which he +talked so much, walked out of the room. A moment later Martha Phipps and +Captain Jethro Hallett entered it. + +Both Miss Phipps and the light keeper seemed preoccupied. The former's +round, wholesome face was clouded over and the captain was tugging at +his thick beard and drawing his bushy eyebrows together in a frown. He +was a burly, broad-shouldered man, with a thin-lipped mouth, and a sharp +gray eye. He looked like one hard to drive and equally hard to turn, the +sort from which fanatics are made. + +Primmie scuttled away to the dining room. Galusha rose. + +“Good-afternoon, Captain Hallett,” he said. + +Jethro regarded him from beneath the heavy brows. + +“You know Mr. Bangs, Cap'n Jeth,” said Martha. “You met this mornin', +didn't you?” + +The light keeper nodded. + +“We run afoul of each other over to the graveyard,” he grunted. “Well, +Martha, I don't know what more there is to say about--about that thing. +I've told you all I know, I cal'late.” + +“But I want to talk a little more about it, Cap'n Jeth. If Mr. Bangs +will excuse us we'll go out into the dinin' room. Primmie's up in her +room by this time. You will excuse us, won't you, Mr. Bangs? There was a +little business matter the cap'n and I were talkin' about.” + +Galusha hastened to say that he himself had been on the point of going +to his own room--really he was. + +Miss Martha asked if he was sure. + +“You needn't go on our account,” she protested. “We can talk in the +dinin' room just as well as not, can't we Cap'n Jeth?” + +The captain bowed his head. “We ain't cal'latin' to talk very long +anyhow,” he said, solemnly. “This is the Lord's day, Mr. Bangs.” + +Galusha hastily admitted that he was aware of the fact. He hurried into +the hall and up the stairs. As he reached the upper landing he heard the +ponderous boom of the light keeper's voice saying, “Martha, I tell you +again there's no use frettin' yourself. We've to wait on the Lord. Then +that wait will be provided for; it's been so revealed to me.” + +Miss Phipps sighed heavily. “Maybe so, Jethro,” she said, “but what will +some of us live on while we're waitin'? THAT hasn't been revealed to +you, has it?” + +For the rest of that afternoon Galusha sat by his bedroom window, +thinking. His thoughts were along the line of those interrupted by +Primmie's summons. When, at supper time, he again descended the stairs, +his mind was made up. He was going to make a suggestion, a suggestion +which seemed to him somewhat delicate. In one sense of the term it was +a business proposition, in another--well, he was not precisely certain +that it might not be considered presuming and perhaps intrusive. Galusha +Cabot Bangs was not a presuming person and he was troubled. + +After the supper dishes were washed and Primmie sent to bed--“sent” + is the exact word, for Miss Cash, having had a taste of Egypt and +the Orient, was eagerly hoping for more--Miss Phipps and Galusha were +together in the sitting room. Doctor Powers had paid a brief visit. He +found his patient so much improved that he announced him well enough to +travel if he wished. + +“If it is really necessary for you to go to-morrow, Mr. Bangs,” he said, +“I think you're strong enough to risk it.” + +“Thank you, Doctor,” said Galusha. Then he added, with his little smile, +“I couldn't go before to-morrow. You see, I--ah--haven't any hat.” + +In the sitting room, after supper, Galusha was idly turning the pages +of Camp, Battlefield and Hospital, a worn book of Civil War sketches, +printed immediately after that war, which he had found upon the shelf of +the closet in his room, along with another volume labeled Friendship's +Garland, a Nosegay of Verse. Of the two, although a peace-loving +individual, he preferred the camp and battlefield to the Nosegay; the +latter's fragrance was a trifle too sweet. + +Suddenly Martha, who had been sitting quiet in the rocker, spoke. + +“Mr. Bangs,” she said, “I saw Lulie Hallett when I was over at the light +this afternoon. We had a good talk together before Cap'n Jethro came +back. She told me about your bein' so kind to her and Nelson over by the +old church this mornin'. She was real grateful to you and she says she +shall thank you herself when she sees you. She asked me to do it for her +now.” + +Galusha was confused. “Oh, it was nothing, really,” he hastened to +explain. “I--ah--Well, I intruded upon them somewhat suddenly. I see she +told you of that.” + +Miss Phipps was smiling to herself. She looked a little guilty. + +“Well,” she admitted, “Lulie did say that you kind of--er--flew over +the bank. She said no one was ever quite so surprised as she was at that +minute.” + +Mr. Bangs thoughtfully shook his head. + +“Except myself, perhaps,” he observed. + +Martha's smile became a laugh. “Probably that's so,” she admitted. “But, +Mr. Bangs, Lulie is awfully anxious that you shouldn't think there was +anything wrong about her meetin' Nelson Howard in that way. There isn't. +She's a splendid girl and he's a fine young man. I think the world of +Lulie and I like Nelson, too.” + +She paused a moment and then went on. + +“It's Cap'n Jethro that makes all the trouble,” she said. “There's no +reason in the world--that is, no sensible reason--why Lulie and Nelson +shouldn't be engaged to be married. Of course he isn't doin' very well +in a business way just now, but that's partly from choice on Lulie's +account. Nelse was a telegraph operator up in Brockton before the war. +When the war came he went right into the Navy and started in at the +Radio School studyin' to be a wireless operator. Then he was taken down +with the 'flu' and had to give up study. Soon as he got well he went +into the transport service. Lulie, you see, was teachin' school at +Ostable, but her father's health isn't what it used to be and then, +besides, I think she was a little worried about his spiritualism. Jethro +isn't crazy about it, exactly, but he isn't on an even keel on that +subject, there's no doubt about that. So Lulie gave up teachin' and came +here to live with him. When Nelson was mustered out he took the station +agent's job at South Wellmouth so as to be near her. I think he doesn't +feel right to have her here alone with her father.” + +“But--ah--she isn't alone, is she? I gathered that Mr.--ah--Bloomer--” + +“Zach Bloomer? Yes, he's there, but Zach isn't lively company, +especially for a girl like Lulie. If Jethro was taken--well, with a fit +or somethin', Zach would probably sit down and cross those bow legs of +his and moralize for an hour or so before he got ready to help pick the +old man up. Nelson knows that and so he refused two real good offers +he had and took the position at the South Wellmouth depot. But he's +studyin' at his wireless all the time and some day--but I'm afraid that +day will be a long way off. Cap'n Jeth is as set as the side of a stone +wharf and you'd have to take him to pieces to move him. That was another +of father's sayin's,” she added, “that about the stone wharf.” + +“Why, why is the--ah--why is Captain Hallet so opposed to young Howard?” + asked Galusha. + +“Spiritualism. Foolishness, that's all. Before his wife died he was as +sensible and shrewd a man as you'd care to see. He and father were old +chums and father used to ask his advice about investments and all such +things. They went into lots of deals together and generally made 'em +pay, though Jethro usually made the most because he took more chances. +He must be worth twenty or thirty thousand dollars, Cap'n Jeth Hallett +is.” + +She spoke as if these were enormous sums. Galusha, to whom all +sums--sums of money, that is--were more or less alike, nodded gravely. + +“His wife's death broke Jethro dreadfully,” continued Martha. “For +six months or so he hardly spoke to anybody except Lulie. Then some +Spiritualist or other--I think it was Ophelia Beebe or some rattlehead +like her--got him to go to see a medium who was boardin' here at the +Restabit Inn. He got--or thinks he got--a communication direct from +Julia--his wife. After that he kept goin' to the Spiritualist camp +meetin's and to Boston and to mediums from Dan to Beersheba, so to +speak. A while ago one medium creature--and I wish she had been struck +dumb before she could say it--told him that he must beware of a dark man +who was tryin' to work evil upon his daughter. As luck would have it, +Nelson Howard was home on leave and callin' on Lulie when her father got +back from seein' that very medium. You can imagine what happened. And +Jethro has been growin' more rabid on the subject ever since.” + +She stopped. Her guest said nothing. He was thinking that if he were to +make the suggestion--the proposition which he had determined upon before +he came down to supper, he must make it soon. And he did not know how to +begin. + +Martha went on talking. She apparently did not notice his silence. It +was more as if she were thinking aloud. + +“If it wasn't for Lulie's bein' here,” she said, slowly, “I don't know +what I should do sometimes, I get so lonesome. When father lived it was +all so different. He was bright and cheerful and he and I were just as +if we were the same age, as you might say. He never was cross and he +didn't fret and if he worried he didn't let me know it. He just loved +this place. It was near the salt water, and he loved that, and he had +his garden and his hens and he was interested in town affairs and all. +We didn't have much money, but we had enough, seemed so. Before he died +he told me he hoped he'd left me well enough off to get along. 'The only +thing that troubles me, Martha,' he said, 'is that some of the things +I've put money into shouldn't turn out as I hoped. I've tried to be +careful, but you can't always tell. If you want advice,' he said, 'go to +Jethro Hallett. Jeth's a shrewd business man.' Ah, well, he didn't know +that the spirits were goin' to run Cap'n Jeth. About the last words he +said to me, father, I mean, was, 'Martha, hang on to the old place if +you can. I hate to think of your sellin' it.' Of course I told him I +never should sell it.” + +“Well--ah--well--” Galusha felt that he ought to say something, “you +don't intend selling it, do you, Miss Phipps?” + +Martha did not answer immediately. And when she did speak it was not a +reply. + +“You must think we're a queer lot down here by the Bluffs, Mr. Bangs,” + she said. “Primmie--you've seen what she is--and Zach Bloomer and Cap'n +Jethro with his 'spirit revelations.' As I say, if it wasn't for Lulie +I don't know what I should do. Get to be cracked myself, I presume +likely.... But there,” she added, brightening, “do let's change the +subject, for mercy sakes! Mr. Bangs, what do you suppose I did when +I was over at the light this afternoon? Besides talkin' with Lulie, I +mean.” + +“Why--why, I don't know, I'm sure.” + +“I don't believe you could guess, either. I looked up 'archaeologist' in +the dictionary.” + +Mr. Bangs blinked surprise behind the spectacles. + +“In the--in the dictionary?” he repeated. “Oh--ah--dear me! Really!” + +“Yes. I'm afraid you'll think I am awfully ignorant, but to save my soul +I couldn't think what an archaeologist did, what sort of a business +it was, I mean. Of course, I knew I OUGHT to know, and that I did know +once, but it seemed to be perfectly certain that I didn't know THEN. +So I looked it up. It fits in with what you told Primmie and me about +travelin'--that camel driver creature and all--and yet--and yet, you +know, I was surprised.” + +“Surprised? Really? Yes, of course, but--but why?” + +“Well, because somehow you don't look like that kind of man. I mean the +kind of man who travels in all sorts of wild places and does dangerous +things, you know, and--” + +Galusha's desire to protest overcame his politeness. He broke in +hurriedly. + +“Oh, but I'm not, you know,” he cried. “I'm not really. Dear me, no!” + +“But you said you had been to--to Africa, was it?--three or four times.” + +“Oh, but those were my Abyssinian trips. Abyssinia isn't wild, or +dangerous, any more than Egypt.” + +“Oh, isn't it?” + +“No, not in the least, really. Oh, dear me, no!” + +“Not with darky camel drivers stealin' your--er--underclothes and +goodness knows what? It sounds a little wild to ME.” + +“Oh, but it isn't, I assure you. And Egypt--ah--Egypt is a wonderful +country. On my most recent trip I.... May I tell you?” + +He began to tell her without waiting for permission. For the next hour +Martha Phipps journeyed afar, under an African sun, over desert sands, +beside a river she had read of in her geography when a girl, under +palm trees, amid pyramids and temples and the buried cities of a buried +people. And before her skipped, figuratively speaking, the diminutive +figure of Galusha Bangs, guiding, pointing, declaiming, describing, the +incarnation of enthusiastic energy, as different as anything could be +from the mild, dreamy little person who had sat opposite her at the +supper table so short a time before. + +The wooden clock on the mantel--it had wooden works and Martha wound it +each night before she went to bed--banged its gong ten times. Mr. Bangs +descended from Egypt as if he had fallen from a palm tree, alighting +upon reality and Cape Cod with startled suddenness. + +“Oh, dear me!” he cried. “What was that? Goodness me, it CAN'T be +ten o'clock, can it? Oh, I must have talked you almost to death, Miss +Phipps. I must have bored you to distraction, I must really. Oh, I'm SO +sorry!” + +Miss Martha also seemed to be coming out of a dream, or trance. She +stirred in her chair. + +“You haven't bored me, Mr. Bangs,” she said, + +“Oh, but I must have, really. I should know better. You see.... Well, +it's quite extraordinary my talking to you in this way, isn't it? I +don't do it often--ah--except to other members of my profession. Why, +up there in the mountains--at the place where I spent the past month +or two, I scarcely talked of--ah--my work at all. And I was constantly +being asked to do so. There was a dreadful--ah--that is, there was a +woman who.... But I promise you I won't go on in this way again, Miss +Phipps, really I won't.” + +Martha drew a long breath and shook her head. + +“I hope you won't promise any such thing,” she declared. “I feel as if +I had been readin' the most interestin' storybook that ever was.... My, +my!” she added, with a sigh. “What a curious thing life is, isn't it? +There's nothin' new in that thought, of course, but it comes to us all +every little while, I suppose. Just think of the difference there has +been in our two lives, for instance. Here are you, Mr. Bangs, you've +been everywhere, pretty nearly, and yet you're--well, you're not so very +big or strong-lookin'. The average person would say I was the one best +fitted to trot around the world, and all my life--or nearly all--I've +been keepin' house in this little corner of East Wellmouth. That's +curious, isn't it? Of course I can't see myself doin' the things you +do--ridin' a camel, for instance.” + +“Oh, but it is quite easy, quite,” Galusha hastened to assure her. “You +could do it very well, I'm sure, Miss Phipps.” + +“Maybe so, but I'm afraid I'm a little bit doubtful. I should want my +camel on wheels, with a railin' around his hump. But YOU must feel lost +enough down in this tame place, Mr. Bangs. The wildest thing around here +is a woodchuck.” + +She laughed. Galusha smiled, but he answered promptly. + +“I like it here, Miss Phipps,” he said, earnestly. “I do, really. I +like it very much indeed. In fact--in fact--Miss Phipps, would you mind +answering a question or two?... Oh, they're not personal questions, +personal to you, I mean. Really they are not. May I ask them?” + +She was puzzled and looked so. + +“Why, of course,” she said. + +“Well... well, they're foolish questions, I suppose, for I think I know +the answers already. But, you see, I want my conscience to be quite +clear before making a decision.... That is, the decision is already +made, but you see... oh, no, you don't see, of course, do you?” + +“Why not ask your questions, Mr. Bangs?” she suggested. + +“Yes--ah--thank you; yes, I will. The first one is about--ah--rest. This +is a good spot for one to--ah--rest in, isn't it?” + +She laughed. “Are you jokin', Mr. Bangs?” she asked. “Rest! I should say +the average person would find it easier to rest here than to do anything +else. But you are jokin', of course?” + +“No; no, indeed, I am quite serious. Second, the air about here +is--ah--good and--and fresh?” + +“GOOD! Well, considerin' that most of it is blown over three or four +thousand miles of salt water before it gets here it ought to be fairly +good, I should say. As to its bein' fresh--well, if you were here when +a February no'theaster was blowin' I'm afraid you might find it a little +TOO fresh.” + +“That is satisfactory, that is very satisfactory indeed. Now what was +the third thing the doctor said I must have? Oh, yes, people. And I know +there are people here because I have met them. And very nice people, +indeed.... Oh, this is VERY satisfactory, Miss Phipps. Now my conscience +is quite clear concerning my promise to the doctor and I can go on to my +proposal to you.” + +“Your--your WHAT?” + +“My proposal--the--ah--proposition I want to make you, Miss Phipps. And +I DO hope you will consider it favorably. You see, I like East Wellmouth +VERY much. My doctor told me I must go where I could find fresh air, +rest, and people. They are all here in East Wellmouth. And he said I +must have exercise, and behold my daily walks to that most interesting +old cemetery of yours. Now, you have been VERY kind to me already, Miss +Phipps; could you be still more kind? Would you--ah--could you let me +continue our present arrangement indefinitely--for a few months, let +us say? Might I be permitted to board here with you until--well, until +spring, perhaps?” + +Martha Phipps leaned back in her chair. She regarded him keenly. + +“Mr. Bangs,” she said, slowly, “has some one been tellin' you that +I needed money and are you makin' me this offer out of--well, out of +charity?” + +Galusha jumped violently. He turned quite pale. + +“Oh, dear, dear, dear!” he cried, in a great agitation. “Oh, dear +me, dear me! No, INDEED, Miss Phipps! I am VERY sorry you should so +misunderstand me. I--I--Of course I know nothing of your money affairs, +nor should I presume to--to--Oh, I--I--Oh, dear!” + +His distress was so keen that she was obliged to recognize it. + +“All right, all right, Mr. Bangs,” she said. “It wasn't charity, I +can see that. But what was it? Do I understand you to say that you +like--actually like this lonesome place well enough to want to stay here +all WINTER?” + +“Yes--ah--yes. And it doesn't seem lonesome to me.” + +“Doesn't it? Well, wait a little while.... And you really mean you want +to keep on boardin' here--with me, with us?” + +“Yes, if--if you will be so very kind as to permit me to do so. If you +will be so good.” + +“Good! To what? My soul and body!” + +“No--ah--good to mine,” said Galusha. + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +It was not settled that evening. Martha declared she must have at least +a few hours in which to think it over and Galusha, of course, agreed. + +“It won't take too long,” she said. “Naturally, you want to know so that +you can make your plans.” + +Galusha smiled. “Please take as much time as you need, Miss Phipps,” he +urged. “If you permit me to remain here while you are--ah--endeavoring +to reach a decision I shall be quite satisfied, really. In that case, +you know, I should be willing to wait for the decision until spring. +Dear me, yes--even until summer.” + +Martha laughed and declared she should decide long before that. “I think +breakfast time to-morrow will settle it,” she added. + +It did. After breakfast she informed him that he might stay if he +wished. + +“Though WHY you want to I can't understand,” she said. “And of course it +is part of the agreement that you'll feel free to give it up and go any +time you wish; as soon as you begin to get tired of the place and us, I +mean.” + +He beamed satisfaction. “I shall not be the one to tire first,” he +declared. Then he added, earnestly, “Of course, Miss Phipps, you will +be perfectly frank and tell me at once if you change YOUR mind. And if I +should become a--ah--well, a sort of nuisance, be irregular at meals, or +noisy or--What is it? I beg your pardon?” + +She had laughed outright. She was still smiling when she apologized. + +“Please excuse me for laughin', Mr. Bangs,” she said, “but don't you +think yourself that that is funny? The idea of your bein' noisy, I +mean.” + +He stroked his chin. + +“We-ll,” he admitted, “perhaps it is. But sometimes I am quite +boisterous, really I am. I remember once, years ago, I was in an old +cemetery in New Hampshire and I suddenly discovered an inscription which +pleased me VERY much. MOST quaint and unusual it was--dear me, yes. And +quite unconsciously I burst into a shout--a cheer, as one may say. The +old sexton was quite scandalized and warned me not to do it again. He +said it would disturb people. I don't know whom he meant, there were no +living people to be disturbed.” + +The question of terms was the cause of a supplementary discussion. Mr. +Bangs insisted upon continuing the three dollars a day rate and Miss +Martha declared he should do nothing of the kind. + +“That three dollars a day was just a temporary thing,” she said. “I +said it just because I was sure you would go over to Elmer Rogers' if I +didn't. Elmer Rogers is a robber and always was. Father used to say he +was the forty-first member of the Forty Thieves and that they didn't +boil him because he wasn't enough account to waste hot oil on.” + +“But--ah--it seems to me that if the Rogers' House board is worth three +dollars a day yours should be worth five at least.” + +“Maybe so, but I never heard anybody but Elmer say his board was worth +one dollar, let alone three.” + +They compromised on a daily rate of two and a half per day, which each +declared to be ridiculous. + +Thus Galusha Cabot Bangs became no longer a transitory but a regular +boarder and lodger at the Phipps' place. The fact became known to Miss +Primrose Cash that forenoon, to the driver of the grocer's cart one hour +later, and to all of East Wellmouth before bedtime. It was news and, in +October in East Wellmouth, one item of local news is a rare and blessed +dispensation. + +Before another day had passed the news item had been embellished. Mr. +Bangs visited the general store of Erastus Beebe to purchase headgear +to replace the brown derby. Erastus happened to be busy at the +moment--there were two customers in his store at the same time, an event +most unusual--so Galusha's wants were supplied by no less a person than +Mr. Horatio Pulcifer. + +Raish's greeting was condescendingly genial. + +“Well, well!” he exclaimed, pumping the little man's arm up and down +with one hand and thumping his shrinking shoulder blades with the other. +“If it ain't the perfessor himself! How are you this mornin', Mr. Bangs? +Right up and comin, eh?” + +Galusha would have withdrawn his hand from the Pulcifer clutch if +withdrawal had been possible. It being quite impossible, he murmured +that he was--“ah--quite well” and, conscious that the eyes of Mr. Beebe +and his two customers were fixed upon him, fixed his own gaze upon Mr. +Pulcifer's assortment of watch charms and shivered with embarrassment. + +“Ain't it funny, now?” queried Raish, addressing the world in general. +“Ain't it funny how things happen? When I fetched you over in my car +t'other night didn't I say I hoped you and me'd meet again? That's what +I said. And now we've met twice since. Once in the old boneyard and now +here, eh? And they tell me you like East Wellmouth so much you're goin' +to stick around for a spell. Good business! Say, I'll be sellin' you a +piece of Wellmouth property one of these days to settle down on. That's +the kind of talk, eh, Perfessor? Haw, haw, haw!” + +He pounded the Bangs' shoulder blades once more. Mr. Beebe and his two +customers echoed the Pulcifer laugh. Galusha smiled painfully--as the +man in the operating chair smiles at the dentist's jokes. + +“I--I--excuse me,” he faltered, turning to the grinning Erastus, “can +I--That is, have you a--ah--hat or--or cap or something I might buy?” + +Before the proprietor of the general store could answer, Mr. Pulcifer +answered for him. Again the hand descended upon the Bangs' shoulder. + +“Haw, haw!” roared Raish, joyfully. “I get you, Mr. Bangs. The old lid +blew out to sea and we've got to get a new one. Say, that was funny, +wasn't it; that hat goin' that way? I don't know's I ever laughed more +in my life. One minute she was jumpin' along amongst them gravestones +like a hoptoad with wings, and then--Zing! Fsst! away she went a half +mile or so down into the breakers. Haw, haw, haw! And to see your face! +Why--” + +Galusha interrupted. + +“PLEASE don't do that,” he said, nervously. + +“Hey? Do what?” + +“Ah--slap my back. I'd rather you wouldn't, if you don't mind. +And--oh--I should like to see a--a cap or something.” + +The last sentence was addressed to Mr. Beebe, who cleared his throat +importantly. + +“Jest a minute, jest a minute,” said Erastus. “Soon's I get through +waitin' on these customers I'll 'tend to you. Jest a minute. Yeast cake, +did you say, Mrs. Blount?” + +“Ohh, pardon me,” faltered Galusha. “I'll wait, of course.” + +“Wait?” It was Mr. Pulcifer who spoke. “You don't have to wait. I know +Ras's stock as well as he does, pretty nigh. I'LL show you a cap, Mr. +Bangs.” + +“Oh--oh, I couldn't think of troubling you, really I couldn't.” + +“No trouble at all. What's a little trouble amongst neighbors, eh? And +that's what we are now--neighbors, eh? Sure, Mike! You and me are goin' +to see a lot of each other from now on. There! There's a good, stylish +cap, if I do say it. Try it on? What's your size, Perfessor?” + +Five minutes later Galusha descended the steps of the Beebe store, +wearing a cloth cap which was, to say the very least, out of the +ordinary. Its material was a fuzzy frieze of nondescript colors, a shade +of dingy yellow predominating, and its shape was weird and umbrellalike. +With it upon his head little Galusha resembled a walking toadstool--an +unhealthy, late-in-the-season toadstool. + +The quartet in the Beebe store watched his departure from the windows. +All were hugely amused, but one, Mr. Pulcifer, was hilarious. + +“Haw, haw, haw!” roared Raish. “Look at him! Don't he look like a +bullfrog under a lily pad? Eh? Don't he now? Haw, haw, haw!” + +Erastus Beebe joined in the laugh, but he shook his head. + +“I've had that cap in stock,” he said, “since--well, since George +Cahoon's son used to come down drummin' for that Boston hat store, and +he quit much as eight year ago, anyhow. How did he ever come to pick +THAT cap out, Raish?” + +Mr. Pulcifer regarded the questioner with scornful superiority. + +“Pick it out!” he repeated. “He never picked it out, I picked it out for +him. You don't know the first principles of sellin', Ras. If you had me +to help around here you wouldn't have so many stickers in your stock.” + +Beebe, gazing after the retreating figure of Mr. Bangs, sniffed. + +“If I had your brass, Raish,” he observed, calmly, “I'd sell it to the +junk man and get rich. Well, maybe I won't have so many stickers, as +you call 'em, if that little critter comes here often. What's the matter +with him; soft in the head?” + +“Isn't this his hat--the one he wore when he came in here?” queried Mrs. +Jubal Doane, one of the two customers. + +Mr. Beebe picked it up. “Guess so,” he replied. “Humph! I've seen that +hat often enough, too. Used to belong to Cap'n Jim Phipps, that hat did. +Seen him wear it a hundred times.” + +Mrs. Becky Blount, the other customer, elevated the tip of a long nose. +“Well,” she observed, “if Martha Phipps is lendin' him her pa's hats SO +early, I must say--” + +She did not say what it was she must say, but she had said quite enough. + +Martha herself said something when her boarder appeared beneath his new +headgear. When he removed it, upon entering the dining room, she took it +from his hand. + +“Is THIS the cap you just bought, Mr. Bangs?” she asked. + +“Yes,” said Galusha, meekly. “Do you like it?” + +She regarded the fuzzy yellow thing with a curious expression. + +“Do you?” she asked. + +The reply was astonishingly prompt and emphatic. + +“I loathe it,” said Galusha. + +She transferred the stare from the cap to its owner's face. + +“You do!” she cried. “Then why in the world did you buy it?” + +Mr. Bangs squirmed slightly. “He said I ought to,” he answered. + +“Who said so?” + +“That man--that Mr. Pulcifer. Mr.--ah--Deedee--Beebe, I mean--was busy, +and Mr. Pulcifer insisted on showing me the caps. I didn't like this one +at all, but he talked so much that--that I couldn't stay and hear him +any longer. He makes me very nervous,” he added, apologetically. “I +suppose it is my fault, but--ah--he does, you know.” + +“And do you mean to say that you took this--this outrage because Raish +Pulcifer talked you into it?” + +Galusha smiled sadly. “Well, he--he talked me into it--yes,” he +admitted. “Into the--ah--cap and out of the store. Dear me, yes.” + +Miss Martha drew a long breath. + +“My heavens and earth!” she exclaimed. “And what did you do with +father's hat, the one you wore down there?” + +Her lodger gasped. “Oh, dear, dear!” he exclaimed. “Oh, dear me! I must +have left it in the shop. I'm SO sorry. How could I do such a careless +thing? I'll go for it at once, Miss Phipps.” + +He would have gone forthwith, but she stopped him. + +“I'm goin' there myself in a little while,” she said. “I've got some +other errands there. And, if you don't mind,” she added, “I'd like to +take this new cap of yours with me. That is, if you can bear to part +with it.” + +She went soon afterward and when she returned she had another cap, a +sane, respectable cap, one which was not a “sticker.” + +“I took it on myself to change the other one for this, Mr. Bangs,” she +said. “I like it lots better myself. Of course it wasn't my affair at +all and I suppose I ought to beg your pardon.” + +He hastened to reassure her. + +“Please don't speak so, Miss Phipps,” he begged. “It was very, very kind +of you. And I like this cap VERY much. I do, really.... I ought to have +a guardian, hadn't I?” he added. + +It was precisely what she was thinking at the moment and she blushed +guiltily. + +“Why, what makes you say that?” she asked. + +“Oh, I'm not saying it, not as an original thought, you know; I'm merely +repeating it. Other people always say it, they've said it ever since I +can remember. Thank you very much for the cap, Miss Phipps.” + +He was sunnily cheerful and very grateful. There was not the slightest +resentment because of her interference. And yet if she had not +interfered he would have worn the hideous yellow cap and been as +cheerful under that. Pulcifer had imposed upon him and he realized it, +but he deliberately chose being imposed upon rather than listening to +the Pulcifer conversation. He was certainly a queer individual, this +lodger of hers. A learned man evidently, a man apparently at home and +sure of himself in a world long dead, but as helpless as a child in the +practical world of to-day. She liked him, she could not help liking him, +and it irritated her exceedingly to think that men like Raish Pulcifer +and Erastus Beebe should take advantage of his childlike qualities to +swindle him, even if the swindles were but petty. + +“They shan't do it,” she told Lulie Hallett, the next morning. “Not if I +can help it, they shan't. Somebody ought to look out for the poor thing, +half sick and with nobody of his own within goodness knows how many +miles. I'll look out for him as well as I can while he's here. My +conscience wouldn't let me do anything else. I suppose if I pick out his +other things the way I picked out that cap the whole of East Wellmouth +will be talkin'; but I can't help it, let 'em.” + +For the matter of that, the Beebes and the Blounts and Doanes were +talking already. And within a fortnight Miss Phipps' prophecy was +fulfilled, the whole of East Wellmouth WAS talking of Galusha Bangs. +Some of the talk was malicious and scandalous gossip, of course, but +most of it was fathered by an intense and growing curiosity concerning +the little man. Who was he? What was his real reason for coming to East +Wellmouth to live--in the WINTER time? What made him spend so many hours +in the old cemetery? Was he crazy, as some people declared, or merely +“kind of simple,” which was the opinion of others? Mr. Pulcifer's +humorous summing-up was freely quoted. + +“He may not be foolish now,” observed Raish, “but he will be if he lives +very long with that bunch down to the lighthouse. Old Cap'n Jeth +and Zach and Primmie Cash are enough to start anybody countin' their +fingers. My opinion is, if you want to know, that this Bangs feller is +just a little mite cracked on the subject of Egyptians and Indians and +gravestones--probably he's read a lot about 'em and it's sprained his +mind, as you might say. That would account for the big yarns he tells +Prim about Africa and such. As to why he's come here to live, I cal'late +I've got the answer to that. He's poorer'n poverty and it's cheap livin' +down at Martha Phipps's. How do I know he's poor? Cripes t'mighty, look +at his clothes! Don't look much like yours or mine, do they?” + +They certainly did not look much like Mr. Pulcifer's. Galusha's +trunk had arrived at last, but the garments in it were as drab and +old-fashioned and “floppy” as those he wore on his arrival. Horatio was +invariably arrayed like a lily of the field--if by that term is meant +a tiger lily. Raish generally finished his appraisal by adding, +patronizingly: + +“He's all right, though, old Galushy is. Nothin' harmful about him. See +how easy I get along with him. I shake hands with him and hit him a clip +on the back, and, gosh t'mighty, he thinks I'm his best friend on earth. +He'd do anything for me, that old owl would.” + +And, perhaps, because it was given forth with such authority from the +Pulcifer Mount Sinai, the fact that Bangs was very poor and was living +at Gould's Bluffs because of that poverty came to be accepted in East +Wellmouth as a settled fact. So quickly and firmly was it settled that, +a month later, Erastus Beebe, leaning over his counter in conversation +with a Boston traveling salesman, said, as Galusha passed the store: + +“Queer-lookin' customer, ain't he? One of our town characters, as you +might say. Pretends he's been all over creation, but the truth is he +lives down here by the lighthouse and is poorer than the last pullet +in Job's coop. Kind of an inventor, or book writer, or some such crazy +thing. Queer how that kind get that way, ain't it?” + +“Is that all he does for a living?” asked the salesman. + +“Don't do much of that, seems so, nowadays. Spends most of his time +copyin' off tombstone-writin' over in the old Baptist graveyard. Seems +to LIKE to be there, he does. Thunder sakes! a graveyard is the last +place I'd spend MY time in.” + +The Bostonian made the obvious retort that it was probably the last +place Mr. Beebe WOULD spend his time in. + +Galusha, of course, was not in the least aware of the East Wellmouth +estimate of himself, his fortune and his activities. He would not +have been interested had he known. He was enjoying himself hugely, +was gaining daily in health, strength, and appetite, and was becoming +thoroughly acquainted with Gould's Bluffs, its surroundings, and its +people. + +He made many calls at the lighthouse nowadays. These calls were not +especially for the purpose of cultivating Captain Jethro's acquaintance, +although the rugged, bigoted old light keeper afforded an interesting +study in character. The captain's moods varied. Sometimes he talked +freely and interestingly of his experiences at sea and as keeper of the +light. His stories of wrecks and life-saving were well told and Galusha +enjoyed them. He cared less for Jethro's dissertations on investments +and deals and shrewd trades. It was plain that the old man prided +himself upon them, however. On one occasion Mr. Bangs happened to +mention Martha Phipps and hinted at his own fear that his lodging at +the Phipps' home was in the nature of an imposition upon the lady's good +nature. The light keeper shook his shaggy head impatiently. + +“No, no, no,” he growled, “'tain't any such thing. Your boardin' there's +a good thing for Martha. She needs the money.” + +Galusha was troubled. + +“I'm sorry to hear that,” he said. “She is not--ah--not pinched for +means, I hope. Not that that is my business, of course,” he added, +hastily. + +Captain Jeth's reply was gruff and rather testy. + +“She'll come out all right,” he said, “if she's willin' to do as I do +and wait. I know I'll come out right. Julia told me so, herself.” + +Galusha had forgotten, momentarily. + +“Julia?” he repeated. + +“My WIFE.” + +“Oh--oh, yes, yes, of course.” + +In these conversations Bangs learned to steer the talk as far as +possible from the subjects of life beyond the grave or of spirit +communications. The slightest touch here and the captain was off, +his eyes shining beneath his heavy brows, and his face working with +belligerent emotion. A hint of doubt or contradiction and trouble +followed immediately. + +“Don't argue with me,” roared Cap'n Jethro. “I KNOW.” + +Lulie and Galusha had many chats together. He had liked her at first +sight and soon she came to like him. + +“He's as funny and odd as can he,” she told Martha, “and you never can +tell what he may say or do next. But he's awfully nice, just the same.” + +Little by little she confided to him her hopes and doubts and fears, +the hopes of her own love story and the doubts and fears concerning her +father. + +“He isn't well,” she said, referring to the latter. “He pretends he is, +but he isn't. And all this consulting with mediums and getting messages +and so on is very bad for him, I know it is. Do you believe in it at +all, Mr. Bangs?” + +Galusha looked doubtful. + +“Well,” he replied, “it would be presumptuous for one like me to say it +is all nonsense. Men like Conan Doyle and Lodge and Doctor Hyslop are +not easy dupes and their opinions are entitled to great respect. But it +seems--ah--well, I am afraid that a majority of the so-called mediums +are frauds.” + +“ALL of father's mediums are that kind,” declared Lulie, emphatically. +“I know it. Most of them are frauds for money, but there are some, like +that ridiculous Marietta Hoag, who pretend to go into trances and get +messages just because they like to be the center of a sensation. They +like to have silly people say, 'Isn't it wonderful!' Marietta Hoag's +'control,' as she calls it, is a Chinese girl. She must speak spirit +Chinese, because no Chinese person on earth ever talked such gibberish. +Control! SHE ought to be controlled--by the keeper of an asylum.” + +The indignation expressed upon Lulie's pretty face was so intense that +Galusha suspected an especial reason. + +“Is--ah--is this Marietta person the medium who--who--” he began. + +“Who set father against Nelson? Yes, she is. I'd like to shake her, +mischief-making thing. Father liked Nelson well enough before that, but +he came home from that seance as bitter against him as if the poor boy +had committed murder. Marietta told him that a small dark man was trying +to take away his daughter, or some such silliness. Nelson isn't very +small nor VERY dark, but he was the only male in sight that came near +answering the description. As a matter of fact--” + +She hesitated, colored, and looked as if she had said more than she +intended. Galusha, who had not noticed her embarrassment, asked her to +go on. + +“Well,” she said, in some confusion, “I was going to say that if it +hadn't been Nelson it would probably have been some one else. You see, I +am father's only child and so--and so--” + +“And so he doesn't like the idea of giving you up to some one else.” + +“Yes, that's it. But it wouldn't be giving me up. It would be merely +sharing me, that's all. I never shall leave father and I've told him so +ever so many times.... Oh, dear! If you could have known him in the old +days, Mr. Bangs, before he--well, when he was himself, big and strong +and hearty. He used to laugh then; he hardly ever laughs now. He and +Cap'n Jim Phipps--Martha's father--were great friends. You would have +liked Cap'n Jim, Mr. Bangs.” + +“Yes, I am sure I should.” + +“So am I. Martha is very much like him. She's a dear, isn't she?” + +Galusha nodded. “She has been very kind to me,” he said. “Indeed, yes.” + +“Oh, she is to every one. She is always just like that. I am very glad +you have decided to board with her this winter, Mr. Bangs. I have an +idea that she has been--well, troubled about something; just what, +of course, I don't know, although I think--but there, I mustn't guess +because it is not my business.” + +Galusha expressed a wish that he might become better acquainted with +Nelson Howard. + +“I am sure I should like him,” he said. “He seems like a very nice young +man.” + +Lulie nodded radiantly. + +“Oh, he is,” she cried. “Truly he is, Mr. Bangs. Why, every one says--” + Then, becoming aware of her enthusiasm, she blushed and begged pardon. +“You see, I hear so much against him--from father, I mean--that I +couldn't help acting silly when you praised him. Do forgive me, won't +you, Mr. Bangs?” + +He would have forgiven her much more than that. + +“I shall make it a point to go over to the South Wellmouth station and +call upon him,” he told her. She thanked him. + +“I am hoping that you and Martha and Nelson and I may spend an evening +together pretty soon,” she said. “You see, father--but there, that's +another secret. I'll tell you in a little while, next week, I hope.” + +He learned the secret from Martha. On a day in the following week Miss +Phipps informed her lodger that he and she were to have supper at the +light keeper's that evening. + +“It's a real sort of party,” declared Martha. “Small but select, as they +used to say in books when I was a girl. There will be four of us, you +and I and Nelson Howard and Lulie.” + +Galusha was surprised. + +“Nelson Howard!” he repeated. “Why, dear me, I thought--I understood +that Mr. Howard was persona non grata to Captain Hallett.” + +Martha nodded. “Well, if that means what I suppose it does, he is,” she +replied. “If Cap'n Jeth knew Nelson was goin' to eat supper in his house +he'd go without eatin' himself to stop it. But, you see, he doesn't +know. Jethro is goin' spiritualizin' to-night. Marietta Hoag and Ophelia +Beebe and their crowd of rattleheads have dug up a brand new medium who +is visitin' over in Trumet and they've made up a party to go there and +hold a seance. When they told Cap'n Jeth, of course nothin' would do but +he must go, too. So, WHILE he is gone Nelson is comin' over to supper. +It's deceivin' the old man, in one way, of course, but it isn't doin' +him a bit of harm. And it does give the young folks a pleasant time, and +I think they deserve it. Lulie has been as kind and forbearin' with her +father as a daughter could be, and Nelson has been more patient than the +average young fellow, by a good deal.” + +Late that afternoon two automobiles laden with humanity, male and +female, drove past the Phipps' gate, and Primmie, from the window, +announced that it was “Marietta and 'Phelia and the rest of 'em. My +savin' soul, ain't they talkin' though! Cal'late the sperits 'll have +busy times this evenin', don't you, Miss Martha?” A few minutes later +she proclaimed that Cap'n Jeth had just climbed aboard and that the +autos were coming back. + +“See! See, Mr. Bangs!” she cried, pointing. “There's Cap'n Jeth, settin' +between Marietta and 'Phelia Beebe. There's the three of 'em on the back +seat. Cap'n Jeth's the one with the whiskers.” + +At six o'clock Martha and her lodger walked over to the Hallett house. +Miss Phipps was dressed in her best gown and looked the personification +of trim, comfortable New England femininity. Galusha was garbed in the +suit he wore the evening of his arrival, but it had been newly sponged +and pressed. + +“It looks lots better,” observed Martha, inspecting him as they walked +along. “It wouldn't have, though, if Primmie had finished the job. I was +so busy that I let her start on it, but when I saw what a mess she was +makin' I had to drop everything else and do it myself.” + +Galusha looked puzzled. + +“Yes?” he said, politely. “Oh, yes, yes. Yes, indeed.” + +She shook her head. + +“I do believe you don't know what I'm talkin' about,” she said. “Now, do +you?” + +“Why--ah--why, Miss Phipps, I confess I--I--” + +“Well, I declare! I never saw a person like you in my life. Didn't you +notice ANY difference in that suit of clothes?” + +Mr. Bangs, looking downward, suddenly became aware of his immaculate +appearance. He was very much upset. + +“I--I don't know what you must think of me,” he stammered. “I have +been--that is, I was thinking of other things and I--Dear me! Oh, dear! +I am VERY grateful to you. But you shouldn't take so much trouble.” + +“It wasn't any trouble. The suit was hangin' in your closet and I +noticed how wrinkled and out of shape it was. And the stains on the +trousers--my!” + +“Yes--ah--yes. I wore it over at the cemetery the other day and +I--ah--imagine I must have gotten down on my knees to examine the +tombstones.” + +“I guess likely. It looked as if you might have crawled from here to the +cemetery and back. Now don't say any more, Mr. Bangs. It was no trouble +at all. I always used to take care of father's clothes. He used to say I +kept him all taut and shipshape.” + +Lulie met them at the door. + +“Where is Primmie?” she asked. + +“She'll be over pretty soon,” replied Martha. “I knew you wouldn't need +her yet to help with the supper and the longer she stays away the more +talk there will be for the rest of us. She is to eat in the kitchen, +Lulie, remember that. I WON'T have her chatterin' all through our meal.” + +“She and Zacheus are to eat together,” replied Lulie. “It is all +settled. Now if Nelson will only come. He is going to get away just as +soon as the down train leaves.” + +He arrived soon afterward, having bicycled over from South Wellmouth. +Primmie arrived also and bursts of her energetic conversation, +punctuated by grumblings in Mr. Bloomer's bass, drifted in from the +kitchen. Supper was a happy meal. Young Howard, questioned by Martha and +Lulie--the latter evidently anxious to “show off” her lover--told of his +experiences aboard one of Uncle Sam's transports and the narrow escape +from a German submarine. Galusha, decoyed by Miss Phipps, was led into +Egypt and discoursed concerning that marvelous country. Lulie laughed +and chatted and was engagingly charming and vivacious. Martha was her +own cheerful self and the worried look disappeared, for the time, from +her face. + +After supper was over, the ladies helped Primmie clear the table while +the men sat in the sitting room and smoked. The sitting room of the +light keeper's home was even more nautical than that at the Phipps' +place. There was no less than six framed paintings of ships and +schooners on the walls, and mantel and what-not bore salt-water curios +of many kinds handed down by generations of seafaring Halletts--whales' +teeth, little ships in bottles, idols from the South Sea islands, bead +and bone necklaces, Eskimo lance-heads and goodness knows what. And +below the windows, at the foot of the bluff on the ocean side, the great +waves pounded and muttered and growled, while high above the chimneys of +the little house Gould's Bluffs light thrust its flashing spear of flame +deep into the breast of the black night. + +It was almost half past eight when Martha Phipps, whose seat was near +the front window of the sitting room, held up a warning hand. + +“Listen!” she cried. “Isn't that an automobile comin'?” + +It undoubtedly was. Apparently more than one motor car was approaching +along the sandy road leading from the village to the lighthouse. + +“Who in the world is it?” asked Martha, drawing aside the window shade +and trying to peer out. “Lulie, you don't think it can be--” + +Lulie looked troubled, but she shook her head. + +“No, it can't be,” she declared. “The seance was to be away over in +Trumet and it is sure to last hours. They couldn't have gone as far as +that and--” + +She was interrupted. From the dining room came the sound of rushing +feet. Primmie burst into the room. She was wildly excited. + +“My Lord of Isrul, Miss Martha!” she cried. “It's them come back. It is, +it is, it is!” + +“Who? Who, Primmie?” demanded Miss Phipps. “Stop flappin' your +wings--arms, I mean. Who's come back?” + +“The sperit folks. All hands of 'em, Marietta and 'Phelia Beebe and Abe +Hardin' and Cap'n Jeth and all. And--and they're comin' in here--and +here's Nelson right where Cap'n Jeth can catch him. Oh, my savin' soul!” + +From behind her agitated shoulder peered the countenance of Mr. Bloomer. + +“She's right, Lulie,” observed Zach, with calm emphasis. “The whole crew +of ghost seiners is back here in port again, Cap'n Jeth and all. Better +beat for open water, hadn't you, Nelse, eh? Be the divil to pay if you +don't.... Godfreys, yes!” + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The announcement exploded like a bomb in the midst of the little group +in the light keeper's sitting room. Lulie turned a trifle pale and +looked worried and alarmed. Martha uttered an exclamation, dropped the +window shade and turned toward her young friend. Mr. Bangs looked from +one to the other and was plainly very anxious to help in some way +but not certain how to begin. Of the four Nelson Howard, the one most +concerned, appeared least disturbed. It was he who spoke first and his +tone was brisk and businesslike. + +“Well, Lulie,” he said, “what do you want me to do? Shall I stay and +face it out? I don't mind. There's nothing for us to be ashamed of, you +know.” + +But Lulie shook her head. “Oh, no, no, Nelson,” she cried, “you mustn't. +You had better go, right away. There will be a scene, and with all those +people here--” + +Miss Phipps put in a word. “But perhaps Nelson's right, after all, +Lulie,” she said. “There is no reason in the world why he shouldn't +come to see you, and maybe he and Cap'n Jeth might as well have a plain +understandin' now as any time.” + +Miss Hallett's agitation increased. “Oh, no,” she cried, again. “Don't +you see it mustn't happen, on father's account? You know how he--you +know how excited and--and almost violent he gets when any one crosses +him nowadays. I'm afraid something might happen to him. I'm afraid. +Please go, Nelson, for my sake.” + +The young man nodded. “Of course, Lulie,” he declared. “You're perfectly +right. I'm off. Good-night.” + +He was hastening toward the dining room door, but Primmie, dancing up +and down like a jumping jack, barred his way. + +“No, no, no,” she squealed, “you can't--you can't. They're almost to the +door now. He'll catch you sure. He WILL. Oh, my Lord of Isrul!” + +Sure enough, the latch of the door leading from the side porch to the +dining room was rattling at that moment. Fortunately the door itself was +hooked on the inside. Nelson hesitated. + +“Humph!” he grunted. “Could I get through to the kitchen and out that +way, do you think, Zach?” + +“Godfreys, no! Not with them winder curtains strung up higher'n Haman +the way they be. No, no! Godfreys!” + +Martha stepped across the sitting room and flung open another door on +the opposite side. As she did so there sounded a prodigious thumping +from the side porch and the bull-like voice of Captain Hallett bellowed +his daughter's name. + +“Go let 'em in, Lulie,” whispered Martha. “I'll look out for things +here. Quick, Nelson, out this way, through the front hall and out the +front door. QUICK!” + +Captain Jeth was accompanying his shouts by thumping upon the side of +the house. Lulie, after one desperate glance at her lover, hurried to +the dining room. Young Howard hesitated a moment. + +“My hat and coat?” he whispered. “Where are they?” + +They were hanging in the entry upon the door of which the captain was +thumping. Zach hastened to get them, but before he reached the dining +room they heard the outer door open and Jeth's voice demanding to know +why Lulie had kept him waiting so long. Nelson, with a somewhat rueful +smile and a wave of the hand to Martha and Galusha, dodged into the +blackness of the front hall. Miss Phipps closed the door after him. +The conspirators looked at each other. Primmie's mouth opened but the +expansive hand of Mr. Bloomer promptly covered it and the larger part of +her face as well. + +“This ain't no time to holler about your savin' soul,” whispered +Zacheus, hoarsely. “This is the time to shut up. And KEEP shut up. You +be still, Dandelion!” + +Primmie obeyed orders and was still. But even if she had shrieked it is +doubtful if any one in the dining room could have heard her. The “ghost +seiners,” quoting from Mr. Bloomer, were pouring through the entry and, +as all were talking at once, the clatter of tongues would have drowned +out any shriek of ordinary volume. A moment later the Halletts, father +and daughter, led the way into the sitting room. Lulie's first procedure +was to glance quickly about the apartment. A look of relief crossed her +face and she and Martha Phipps exchanged glances. + +“Father has--he has come back,” was her somewhat superfluous +explanation. Captain Jethro noted the superfluity. + +“Cal'late they can see that for themselves, Lulie,” he observed. “How +are you, Martha? Evenin', Mr. Bangs. Everything all right about the +light, Zach?” + +“Ay, ay, sir,” was Mr. Bloomer's nautical reply. The captain grunted. + +“Better go look at it,” he said. Turning, he called over his shoulder, +“Come in, all hands.” + +“All hands,” that is, the company in the dining room--came in. There +were fourteen of them, all told, and, as Martha Phipps told Galusha +Bangs afterward, “If you had run a net from one end of Ostable County to +the other you wouldn't have landed more freaks than there were in that +house at that minute.” The majority were women and the few men in the +party looked as if each realized himself a minority at home and abroad. + +“Set down, everybody,” commanded Captain Jethro. “Lulie, you better help +me fetch in them dining-room chairs. We'll need 'em.” + +“But, father,” begged Lulie, “what are you going to do?” + +“Do? We're goin' to have a meetin', that's what we're goin' to do. Set +down, all of you that can. We'll have chairs for the rest in a minute.” + +“But, father--” began Lulie, again. The captain interrupted her. “Be +still,” he ordered, irritably. “Marietta, you set over here by the +melodeon. That'll be about right for you, will it?” + +Miss Marietta Hoag was a short, dumpy female with a face which had been +described by Zach Bloomer as resembling a “pan of dough with a couple of +cranberries dropped into it.” She wore a blue hat with a red bow and a +profusion of small objects--red cherries and purple grapes--bobbing on +wires above it. The general effect, quoting Mr. Bloomer again, was “as +if somebody had set off a firecracker in a fruit-peddler's cart.” The +remainder of her apparel was more subdued. + +She removed the explosive headgear and came forward in response to the +light keeper's command. She looked at the chair by the ancient parlor +organ and announced: “Yes, indeed, it'll do real well, thank you, Cap'n +Jethro.” Her voice was a sharp soprano with liquid gurgles in it--“like +pourin' pain-killer out of a bottle,” this last still another quotation +from the book of Zacheus. + +“All right,” said Captain Jeth, “then we'll begin. We've wasted enough +time cruisin' way over to Trumet and back for nothin'. No need to waste +any more. Set down, all hands, and come to order. Lulie, you and Martha +and the rest of you set down, too.” + +“But, father,” urged his daughter again, “I don't understand. What are +you going to do?” + +“Goin' to have a meetin', I tell you.” + +“But what sort of a meeting?” + +“A seance. We cruised clear over to Trumet to hear that Brockton medium +that was stayin' at Obed Taylor's there and when we got to Obed's +we found she'd been called back home unexpected and had left on this +afternoon's train. So we came back here and Marietta's goin' to try to +get in communication herself. That's all there is to it.... Now don't +waste any more time askin' fool questions. Set down. Martha Phipps, what +are you and Mr. Bangs standin' up for?” + +Martha's answer was quietly given. + +“Why, good gracious, Jethro!” she observed, “why shouldn't we stand up? +Mr. Bangs and I came over to spend the evenin' with Lulie. We didn't +know you and Marietta and Ophelia and the rest were goin' to hold +any--er--what do you call 'em?--seances. We'll run right along and leave +you to enjoy yourselves. Come, Mr. Bangs.” + +For some reason or other this reply appeared to irritate the light +keeper exceedingly. He glared at her. + +“Set down, both of you,” he ordered. “I want you to. 'Twill do you good. +No, you ain't goin', neither. Lulie, you tell 'em to stay here.” + +His manner was so determined and the light in his eye so ominous that +his daughter was alarmed. + +“Oh, do stay, Martha,” she pleaded. “Won't you please stay, you and Mr. +Bangs? I think it will be for the best, truly I do. Please stay.” + +Martha looked at her lodger. Galusha smiled. + +“I shall be very glad to remain,” he observed. “Indeed yes, really.” + +Miss Phipps nodded. “All right, Lulie,” she said, quietly. “We'll stay.” + +They took chairs in the back row of the double circle. Primmie, eyes and +mouth open and agog with excitement, had already seated herself. Captain +Jethro looked about the room. + +“Are we all ready,” he growled. “Eh? Who's that comin'? Oh, it's you. +Well, set down and keep quiet.” + +It was Mr. Bloomer who had re-entered the room and was received so +unceremoniously. He glanced at Galusha Bangs, winked the eye which the +captain could not see, and sat down next to Primmie. + +“Now then,” said Captain Jeth, who was evidently master of ceremonies, +“if you're all ready, Marietta, I cal'late we are. Cast off! Heave +ahead!” + +But Miss Hoag seemed troubled; evidently she was not ready to cast off +and heave ahead. + +“Why--why, Cap'n Jeth,” she faltered, “I CAN'T. Don't you KNOW I +can't? Everybody's got to take hands--and the lights must be turned way +down--and--and we've GOT to have some music.” + +The captain pulled his beard. “Humph!” he grunted. “That's so, I forgot. +Don't know what's the matter with me to-night, seem to be kind of--of +upset or somethin'. Zach, turn them lamps down; more'n that, way down +low.... That'll do. Now all hands hold hands. Make a--a kind of ring out +of yourselves. That's it. Now what else was it, Marietta?” + +“Music,” faltered Miss Hoag, who seemed rather overawed by the captain's +intensity and savage earnestness. “We always have music, you know, to +establish the--the contact. Have somebody play the organ. 'Phelia, you +play it; you know how.” + +Miss Ophelia Beebe, sister of the village storekeeper, was a tall, +angular woman garbed in black. Her facial expression was as mournful +as her raiment. She rose with a rustle and moved toward the ancient +melodeon. Lulie spoke hurriedly. + +“No, no, Ophelia,” she protested, “it isn't any use. That old thing has +been out of order for--why, for years. No one could possibly play on it. +No one has for ever and ever so long. Father knows it perfectly well.” + +Again Captain Jethro tugged at his beard. + +“Humph!” he grunted. “'Tis out of order; I remember now.... Humph! I--I +forgot that. Well, we'll have to have some sort of music. Can anybody +that's here play on anything?” + +There was silence for a moment. Then a thin masculine voice from the +dimness made proclamation. + +“I can play on the fiddle,” it said; and then added, as if in +afterthought, “some.” + +There was a rustle in the corner from which the voice had come. +Mutterings and whisperings arose. “Don't talk so foolish!” “Well, Sary, +he asked if anybody could play on anything and I--” “Be still, I tell +you! I declare if there's any chance for a person to make a jumpin' +numbskull out of himself in front of folks I'll trust you to be right on +deck.” “Now, Sary, what are you goin' on like this for? I only just--” + +The dispute was growing louder and more violent. Captain Jethro roared a +command for silence. + +“What's all this?” he demanded. “Silence there for'ard!” He waited an +instant and then asked, “Who was it said they could play the fiddle? Was +it you, Abel Hardin'?” + +Mr. Abel Harding, clam digger and fish purveyor, resident in South +Wellmouth, acknowledged his identity. + +“Yus, Cap'n Jeth,” he declared. “I said I could play the fiddle, and I +can, too. Sary B., she says--” + +“Sarah B.”--otherwise Mrs. Abel Harding--interrupted. “He can't play +nothin' but two jig tunes and he plays them like the very Old Scratch,” + she snapped, with emphasis. + +“Well, I never said I was anything great at it, did I? I said I can play +some, and I can. If you'd just keep your tongue to home and leave me be +I--” + +“SILENCE!” shouted the light keeper again. The domestic squabble broke +off in the middle and some irreverent giggles from other sections of +the circle subsided. Captain Jethro's indignant gaze swept the group. +Primmie said afterward, “You couldn't see him glare at you, but you +could FEEL him doin' it.” When the stillness was absolute the captain +asked, “Where is your fiddle, Abel?” + +“Eh?” Mr. Harding paused and cleared his throat. “Why,” he stammered, +“it's--it's to home. Er--er--that's where I keep it, you know.” + +“Humph!” Captain Jethro's scorn was withering. “And home is eleven mile +away or such matter. How much good is your bein' able to play on it +goin' to do us when 'tain't here for you to play on?” + +There were discreet snickers from the dimness. Mrs. Hardin's voice was +audible, saying, “There, I told you so, foolhead.” The captain once more +ordered and obtained silence. + +“We've had enough of this,” he growled. “This ain't a play-actin' show +to laugh at. If we can't behave accordin' as we should we'll give it up. +Marietta says she can't get into contact with the sperit world without +music. Would it do if we was to sing somethin', Marietta?” + +Miss Hoag faltered that she didn't know's she hardly believed 'twould. +“I always HAVE had some sort of instrumental music, Cap'n Jethro. Don't +seem to me's if I could hardly get along without it.” + +The captain grunted again. “Can't anybody play ANYTHING?” he demanded. +“Anything that's within hailin' distance, I mean.” + +Another silent interval. And then a voice said, timidly, “I can play the +mouth organ.” + +It was Primmie's voice and as she was sitting next Zach Bloomer, who was +next Galusha Bangs, the unexpectedness of it made the latter jump. Miss +Phipps, next in line on Galusha's left, jumped likewise. + +“Primmie,” she said, sharply, “don't be silly.” + +“But I CAN, Miss Martha. You know I can. Zach knows it, too. You've +heard me, ain't you, Zach? Ain't you? Ain't you?” + +Thus urged, Mr. Bloomer answered, “I've heard you,” he said. And added, +fervently and under his breath, “Godfreys!” + +“Primmie,” began Martha, again, but Captain Jethro broke in. + +“Quiet, Martha Phipps,” he ordered. “Stop your talkin', all hands. +Marietta, do you cal'late you could get under way with mouth organ +music?” + +“Why--why, I don't know. Maybe I could if--if it played church tunes.” + +“Can you play hymn tunes, Primmie?” + +“Yes, sir. I can play 'Sweet By and By' and 'Brighten the Corner Where +You Be' and 'Pack up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit Bag.' No, that ain't +one, is it? But I can play--” + +“Where's your mouth organ now?” + +“It's in my jacket pocket out yonder in the kitchen.” + +“Go fetch it.” + +Sounds as of one individual falling over others, accompanied by +exclamations and confusion, indicated that Miss Cash was going in search +of the instrument. Lulie made one more attempt at persuasion. + +“Father,” she pleaded, “what makes you try to hold a seance to-night? +You've been 'way over to Trumet and back and you must be tired. You +aren't very well, you know, and all this excitement isn't good for you. +Won't you please--” + +Her father stamped his foot. “Set down,” he shouted. “I know what I'm +doin'. This is my house and I'll do as I please in it. Stop! I don't +want to hear any more. Where's that Cash girl?” + +Primmie was returning bearing the mouth organ. She plowed through the +circle like an armored tank through a wire entanglement and reached the +light keeper's side. + +“Here I be,” she announced, “and here 'tis. Shall I commence to begin +now? Where do you want me to set?” + +She was given a seat in the front row, facing the medium. Captain +Hallett, after some final instructions to Zacheus concerning the turning +lower of one of the lamps and a last order for stillness, gave the +command. + +“All ready! Heave ahead!” + +Miss Hoag leaned back in her rocking-chair and closed her eyes. Primmie +drew a long breath and the first bars of the “Sweet By and By” were +forcibly evicted from the harmonica. Zach Bloomer, the irrepressible, +leaned over and breathed into his neighbor's ear. + +“Say, Mr. Bangs,” he whispered, “if you was a sperit would you leave a +comf'table berth up aloft to come and anchor alongside THAT noise?” + +The “noise” became more enthusiastic as the musician warmed to her work. +Miss Hoag stirred uneasily in her chair. Captain Jethro bent toward her. + +“Tell her not to play so LOUD,” whispered Marietta. The captain obeyed. + +“Come, come, Primmie,” he said, irritably. “Go easy on it, soften her +down. Play low. And stop stompin' out the time with your foot.” + +Thus cautioned Miss Cash played low, very low, and also very slowly. +“The Sweet By and By” droned on, over and over, in the dark stuffiness +of the crowded room. Galusha Bangs, who had been at first much amused, +began to be bored. Incidentally he was extremely sorry for Lulie, poor +girl, who was compelled to be present at this ridiculous exhibition of +her father's obsession. Heavy breathing sounded near at hand, growing +steadily heavier until it became a snore. The snore broke off in the +middle and with a sharp and most unchurchly ejaculation, as if the +snorer had been awakened suddenly and painfully. Galusha fancied +he recognized Mr. Harding's voice. Primmie ended her thirty-second +rendition of the “Sweet By and By” chorus and began the thirty-third. + +Then Miss Hoag began to groan. The first groan was so loud and +unexpected that Miss Cash gasped “My savin' soul!” into the mouth organ. +Marietta continued to groan, also to pound the floor with her heels. In +her capacity as “medium” she, like other mediums--mediums of her stripe, +that is--was “getting under control.” + +Then followed the usual sort of thing which follows at this sort of +seance. Miss Hoag, through her “control,” began to receive and transmit +“messages.” The control spoke in a kind of husky howl, so to speak, +and used a lingo most unusual on this plane, however common it may be +elsewhere. + +Mr. Bangs was startled when first favored with a sample of +this--literally--unearthly elocution. + +“Oh, dear me!” he exclaimed. “Oh, dear! WHY does she do that? Is--is she +ill?” + +Miss Beebe answered, from her place in the circle. “It's her sperit +control talkin' now,” she whispered. “She's controlled by a China +woman.” + +“Name of Little Cherry Blossom,” whispered Mr. Harding. + +“Sshh!” said several voices, indignantly. + +“Allee samee comee manee namee Johnee,” announced Little Cherry Blossom. +“Anybody heree knowee manee Johnee?” + +Several did, of course, and John was soon undergoing cross-examination. +He proved to be the cousin of Mrs. Hannah Peters' first husband who was +drowned on the Grand Banks fifteen or sixteen years before. “John-ee” + was, like so many of his kind, a bit shaky on names and dates but strong +on generalities. However, everybody except the few skeptics from the +Phipps' place seemed satisfied and made no embarrassing comments. + +Everybody but Mr. Bloomer, that is; Zacheus, the philosopher who had +studied his profession aboard a lightship, commented on everything. +Sitting next Mr. Bangs, he put his lips close to the ear of the +last-named gentleman and breathed caustic sarcasm into it. Galusha found +it distracting and, at times, annoying, for Mr. Bloomer's mustache was +bristly. + +“Little Cherry Blossom talks's if she had a cold,” whispered Zach. +“Better take a little cherry rum, hadn't she, eh?” + +The control was loudly paging a person named Noah. + +“Sperit heree wantee talkee with Noah,” she cried. “Wheree isee Noah?” + +“'Board the Ark, most likely,” whispered Mr. Bloomer. “Be hollerin' for +Jonah next, won't she? Cal'late so. Yus, yus.” + +Message after message came and was recognized and acknowledged by the +devout. The group from the Phipps' house had so far been slighted, +so, too, had Captain Jethro Hallett. There was a slight hubbub in +the circle, owing to the fact that two of its members simultaneously +recognized and laid claim to the same spirit, each declaring him to +be or have been an entirely different person when living. During this +little controversy Zacheus whispered in his neighbor's ear. + +“Say, Mr. Bangs,” he whispered, “this is gettin' kind of tiresome, ain't +it? Must be worse for Nelse, though, eh?” + +Galusha did not catch his meaning. “For--for whom?” he asked. “I beg +your pardon.” + +“Oh, you're welcome. Why, I mean Nelse Howard must be gettin' more tired +than we be, shut up in that front hall the way he is.” + +“Shut up--Why, really, I--Mr. Howard left the house long ago, didn't he? +By the front door, you know.” + +Zach chuckled. “That front door is locked and the key's been lost for +more'n a fortn't. Cal'late Lulie forgot that when she told him to skip +out that way. He can't GET out. He's in that front entry now and he'll +have to stay there till all hands have gone and the cap'n gone to bed. +That's a note, ain't it!... Sshh! They're goin' to begin again.” + +The identity of the spiritual visitor having been tentatively +established, the “communications” continued. Galusha paid little heed +to them. The thought of young Howard a prisoner in the front hall was +uncomfortable of itself, but still more uncomfortable was the mental +picture of what might happen should his presence there be discovered +by Captain Hallett. The old light keeper was bigoted and absurdly +prejudiced against his daughter's lover at all times. An encounter +between them would always be most unpleasant. But this evening, when the +captain was in his most fanatical mood, for him to find Nelson Howard +hiding in his own house--well, the prospect was almost alarming. + +Galusha, much troubled in mind, wondered if Lulie had remembered the +locked door and the lost key. Did she realize her fiance's plight? If +so, she must be undergoing tortures at that moment. Nelson, of course, +could take care of himself and was in no danger of physical injury; the +danger was in the effect of the discovery upon Captain Jethro. He was +not well, he was in a highly nervous and excited state. Galusha began to +fidget in his chair. More than ever he wished the seance would end. + +However, it did not end. The messages continued to come. Apparently the +line of spirits waiting to communicate was as long as that at the ticket +office of a ball park on a pleasant Saturday. And suddenly Mr. Bangs was +startled out of his fidgets by the husky voice of Little Cherry Blossom +calling the name which was in his mind at the moment. + +“Jethro,” wheezed Little Cherry Blossom. “Jethro. Some one heree wantee +talkee Jethro.” + +Martha Phipps, sitting next to Galusha, stirred and uttered an impatient +exclamation under her breath. From beyond, where Lulie sat, Galusha +caught a quick gasp and a frightened “Oh, dear!” Zacheus whispered, +“Godfreys!” Primmie bounced up and down with excitement. The circle +rustled and then grew very still. + +“Well,” growled Captain Jethro, a quaver in his deep voice, “I'm here. +It is--is it you, Julia?” + +Little Cherry Blossom said that it was. Mr. Bangs heard another sniff of +disgust from Miss Phipps. He was himself thoroughly disgusted and angry. +This mockery of a great sorrow and a great love seemed so wicked and +cruel. Marietta Hoag and her ridiculous control ceased to be ridiculous +and funny. He longed to shake the fat little creature, shake her until +her silly craze for the limelight and desire to be the center of a +sensation were thoroughly shaken out of her. Marietta was not wicked, +she was just silly and vain and foolish, that was all; but at least half +of humanity's troubles are caused by the fools. + +“Julia,” said Captain Jethro, his big voice trembling as he said it, +“I--I'm here, Julia. What is it?” + +“Julia she say she gladee you heree,” gurgled Little Cherry Blossom. +Martha Phipps drew a breath between her teeth as if in pain. Her hand +squeezed Lulie's tight. She was suffering with the girl. As for +Galusha, sensitive soul that he was, he blushed all over in sympathetic +embarrassment. + +“I'm glad to be here, Julia,” said the captain. “You know it, too, I +guess likely. Is all well with you, Julia?” + +Cherry Blossom in horrible pidgin English affirmed that all was well, +all was happiness and delight and bliss in the realm beyond. Galusha did +not hear much of this, he was suffering too acutely to listen. Then he +heard Captain Jethro ask another question. + +“Is there any special message you've got for me, Julia?” + +Yes, there was. “Daughter, daughter.” There was some message about a +daughter. + +“Lulie? Is there somethin' you want to tell me about Lulie, Julia?” + +“Father!” It was Lulie herself who uttered the exclamation. “Father,” + she cried. “Don't! Oh, don't! Please don't!” + +Her father's reply was a furious roar. + +“Stop!” he thundered. “Be still! Don't you say another word!” + +“But, father, PLEASE--” + +“Stop!... Julia, Julia... are you there? What is it about Lulie? Tell +me.” + +Little Cherry Blossom herself seemed a bit nervous, for her next message +was given with a trifle less assurance. It was an incoherent repetition +and re-repetition of the word “daughter” and something about “looking +out” and “danger.” + +Captain Jethro caught at the word. + +“Danger?” he queried. “Danger for Lulie? Is that what you mean, Julia? +I'm to look out on account of danger comin' for Lulie? Is that it, +Julia?” + +Lulie made one more desperate plea. + +“Father,” she begged, “please don't! Of course there isn't any danger +for me. This is SO ridiculous.” + +“Be still, I tell you.... Is that it, Julia? Is it?” Little Cherry +Blossom with some hesitation indicated that that was it. A rustle of +excitement stirred the circle. + +“What kind of danger?” demanded the light keeper, eagerly. “Can't you +tell me that, Julia?” + +Apparently she could not, for there was no reply. The captain tried to +help by suggestion. + +“Danger from--from her bein'--er--hurt?” he suggested. “Being run +over--or--or--drowned or somethin'?” + +No, that was not it. + +“Danger from somebody--some person?” + +“Yes.” Another rustle of excitement in the circle. The light keeper +caught his breath. + +“Julia,” he demanded, “do you mean that--that our girl's in danger from +some--some MAN?” + +“FATHER! I won't stand this. It's perfectly--” + +“Lulie Hallett, you set down! Set DOWN!” + +Martha Phipps laid a hand upon the girl's arm. “Don't excite him,” she +whispered. “I'd sit down if I were you, Lulie.” + +Lulie, trembling with indignation, subsided under protest. Little Cherry +Blossom burst out with a gush of gibberish concerning some man, “bad, +wicked manee,” who was trying to influence “daughter” in some way +or other, just how was not particularly intelligible. Captain Jethro +offered another suggestion. + +“Julia,” he demanded, “is it the outsider, the small, dark man you said +afore? Is it him?” + +Yes, it was. The rustle in the circle was now so pronounced as to amount +almost to a disturbance. Mr. Abel Harding whispered audibly, “It's +Nelson Howard she means, don't she?” His wife even more audibly ordered +him to “shut up, for the land sakes.” Primmie dropped the mouth organ +on the floor with a metallic clatter. Startled, she made her customary +appeal to the ruler of Israel. + +“It's him, eh?” growled the light keeper. “I thought so. I've got my eye +on him, Julia, and he knows it. What's he up to now? Where is he?” + +“Near her.” + +“Near her? Here?... In this HOUSE, do you mean?” + +A moment's hesitation, and then, “Ye-es, I--I shouldn't wonder.” + +This bit of information, even though unusually qualified considering +its spirit source, caused a genuine sensation. Almost every one said +something. Zach Bloomer whistled shrilly in Mr. Bangs' ear and said, +“Godfreys!” Galusha said, “Oh, dear me!” with distressful emphasis. +Martha Phipps and Lulie clutched each other and the latter uttered +a faint scream. Primmie Cash, who had stooped to pick up the dropped +harmonica, fell on her knees beside it. Captain Jethro stamped and +roared for silence. + +“Be still!” he shouted. “Stop! STOP! By the everlastin', +I'll--I'll--Julia! Julia!” + +But Julia did not answer this time. Neither did Little Cherry Blossom. +Whether Miss Hoag was frightened at the effect of her message or whether +she figured that she had caused sensation sufficient for one day are +matters for conjecture. At all events she stirred in her chair and +announced faintly, and in her natural, everyday tones and accent, that +she wished a drink of water. + +“Where--where be I?” she gasped. “I--Oh, fetch me a drink, somebody, +won't you, please?” + +The light keeper, paying no need whatever, was shouting his wife's name. + +“Julia! Julia!” he cried. “Don't go! I want you! I need you!” + +Lulie called “Father” and hastened toward him. Zacheus whispered in +Galusha's ear that he cal'lated 'twouldn't do no harm to turn on the +glim and proceeded forthwith to turn up the wick of one of the lamps. +The sudden illumination showed Captain Jethro standing in the middle +of the floor, his face flushed, his brows drawn together and his lips +twitching. He was glaring about the room and the expression upon his +face was so fierce that Mr. Bangs said, “Oh, dear me!” again when he saw +it. + +Lulie put her arm about the light keeper's shoulder. “Father, father,” + she pleaded, “please don't look that way. Come and sit down. Please do!” + +But sitting down was far from the captain's thoughts just then. He +impatiently tossed his daughter's arm aside. + +“So he's here, is he,” he growled, between his teeth. “He's in my house, +is he? By the everlastin', I'll show him!” + +Martha Phipps pushed her way toward the pair. + +“There, there, Jethro,” she said, quietly, “don't act this way. Don't +you see you're frightenin' Lulie half out of her wits? There's nothin' +for you to look so savage about. Come over and sit down and rest. You're +tired.” + +“No, I ain't tired, either. Be quiet, woman. By the Lord, if he's in +this house I'll find him. And WHEN I find him--” + +“Sshh, sshh! What in the world are you talkin' about? Marietta didn't +say--” + +“Julia--my spirit wife--told me that that skulkin' swab of a Nelse +Howard was here in this house. You heard her. Let go of me, both of you! +Now where is he?” + +He was turning directly toward the door leading to the front hall. Lulie +was very white and seemed on the point of collapse. Even Miss Phipps, +usually so calm and equal to the emergency, appeared to find this one +a trifle too much for her, for she glanced desperately about as if +in search of help. Zach Bloomer repeated “Godfreys” several times and +looked, for him, almost excited. As for Primmie, she was so frightened +as to be speechless, a miracle far more amazing than any other which the +seance had thus far produced. The remaining members of the circle were +whispering in agitation and staring wide-eyed at the captain and those +about him. + +Then a masculine voice, a very soft, gentle masculine voice, said, “I +beg your pardon, Captain Hallett, but may I--ah--ask a question?” + +The very gentleness of the voice and the calmness of its tone had more +effect in securing the light keeper's attention than any shout could +possibly have done. Captain Jethro stopped in his stride. + +“Eh?” he grunted. “Eh? What's that?” + +Galusha Bangs moved forward, quietly elbowing his way from the back +row of the circle to the open space before the inner line of chairs and +their excited occupants. + +“It is--ah--I, Captain Hallett,” he observed, calmly, “I wished to ask +a question. You see, I have been very much interested by +the--ah--manifestations here this evening. Very much so, really--indeed, +yes.” + +The light keeper interrupted. “Don't bother me!” he ordered, savagely. +“I'm goin' to find that sneakin' rascal, and--Get out of my way, will +you?” + +Somehow or other the little Egyptologist had moved forward until, +without appearing to have made an effort to do so, he was directly in +the captain's way--that is, between the latter and the door of the front +hall. The command to get out of the way he acknowledged politely and +with caution. + +“Yes, yes, of course,” he said, hastily. “I'm very sorry. Very sorry +indeed. I beg your pardon, Captain Hallett. Now there is one point in +this lady's--ah--messages--ah--communications, you know--which puzzles +me somewhat. You see--” + +“I can't stop to talk to you now. I'm goin' to--WILL you get out of my +way?” + +“Was I in your way? I BEG your pardon. How clumsy of me! I--ah--You see, +this lady's last message seemed to point so directly in my direction +that I felt constrained to speak. You see, when she, or her--control, is +it?--mentioned my being here in your house and accused me of having +an evil influence upon your daughter, I--well, I was surprised +and--ah--hurt.” + +A general gasp of astonishment from the circle behind him interrupted. +Mr. Abel Harding shouted “Eh!” and, for a wonder, his wife did not +take him to task for it. For the matter of that, she had uttered +an exclamation also. So had Ophelia Beebe and many others. Zacheus +whistled. Primmie once more referred to her saving soul. Martha Phipps +cried out. + +As for Jethro Hallett, he stared uncomprehendingly at the Bangs' face +which looked so earnestly and gravely up into his. He drew a hand across +his forehead and breathed heavily. + +“Wha--what are you talkin' about?” he demanded. “Who--who said anything +about you?” + +Galusha transferred his gaze from the light keeper's countenance to that +of Miss Marietta Hoag. The medium's moonlike visage bore an expression +of intense surprise. + +“Why--ah--she did,” replied Galusha, gently. “This lady here. She said +that an outsider, a small, dark man, was exerting an evil influence upon +Miss Lulie--upon your daughter. Then she said this person was here in +your house. Now, as I am the only person present who answers to that +description, naturally I--well, I--really, I must protest. I have the +highest respect and regard for your daughter, Captain Hallett. I should +be the last, the very last, to wish to exert any such influence.” + +“Nonsense!” The amazed captain shouted the word. “What are you talkin' +about? 'Twan't you she said. 'Twas that Howard swab. He's been hangin' +around Lulie for more 'n a year.” + +“Ah--pardon me, Captain Hallett, but really I must make my point. It +could not have been Mr. Howard to whom the--ah--control referred. Mr. +Howard is somewhat dark, perhaps, but he is not small. I am both dark +and small. And I am here, whereas Mr. Howard apparently is not. And I +am, beyond question, an outsider. Therefore--” + +“Nonsense, I tell you! She said Nelson Howard was in this house.” + +“Pardon me, pardon me, Captain Hallett. She said a small, dark man, an +outsider, was in this house. She mentioned no names. You mentioned no +names, did you, Miss--ah--Hoag?” + +Marietta, thus unexpectedly appealed to, gasped, swallowed, turned red +and stammered that she didn't know's she did; adding hastily that she +never remembered nothin' of what she said in the trance state. After +this she swallowed again and observed that she didn't see WHY she +couldn't have that drink of water. + +“So you see, Captain Hallett,” went on Mr. Bangs, with the same gentle +persistence, “being the only person present answering the description +given by the medium I feel somewhat--ah--distressed. I must insist that +I am unjustly accused. I must ask Miss Phipps here and your daughter +herself to say whether or not my conduct toward Miss Lulie has not been +quite--ah--harmless and without--ah--malevolence. I shall be glad to +leave it to them.” + +Of the pair to whom this appeal for judgment was made Martha Phipps +alone heeded it. Lulie, still white and trembling, was intent only +upon her father. But Martha rose to the occasion with characteristic +promptness. + +“Of course, Mr. Bangs,” she declared, “you've behaved just as nice as +any one could be in this world. I could hardly believe my ears when +Marietta said you were an evil influence towards Lulie. You ought to be +careful about sayin' such things, Marietta. Why, you never met Mr. Bangs +before this evenin'. How could you know he was an evil influence?” + +Miss Hoag, thus attacked from an unexpected quarter, was thrown still +more out of mental poise. “I never said he was one,” she declared, +wildly. “I only just said there was a--a--I don't know what I said. +Anyhow _I_ never said it, 'twas my control talkin'. I'll leave it to +'Phelia Beebe. You know I don't know what I'm sayin' when I'm in +the trance state, don't you, 'Phelia? Anyhow, all I said was.... Oh, +'Phelia,” wildly, “why don't you help me out?... And--and I've asked no +less'n four mortal times for that drink of water. I--I--Oh, oh--” + +She became hysterical. The circle ceased to be a circle and became a +series of agitated groups, all talking at once. Mr. Bloomer seized the +opportunity to turn up the wick of another lamp. Lulie, clinging to her +father's arm, led him toward a chair in a secluded corner. + +“Sit down, father,” she urged. “Sit down, and rest. Please do!” + +The old light keeper's fiery rage seemed to be abating. He passed his +hand across his forehead several times and his expression changed. He +looked like one awakening from a bad dream. + +“I--I cal'late I will set down for a minute or so, Lulie,” he faltered. +“I do feel sort of tired, somehow or 'nother. I don't want to talk any +more, Mr. Bangs,” he added, wearily. “I--I'll have to think it all out. +Lulie, I cal'late they'd better go home. Tell 'em all to go. I'm tired.” + +Martha Phipps passed from group to group whispering. + +“I guess we'd better go,” she suggested. “He's pretty well worn out, I'm +afraid. Everybody's things are there in the dinin' room or in the side +entry. We'd better go right away, it seems to me.” + +Galusha had gotten his “things” already, his coat was over his arm. +The others followed his example. A few minutes more and the last of +the “ghost seiners” had left the house and were climbing into the +automobiles in the yard. Marietta Hoag's voice was the last distinctly +audible. + +“I can't help it,” she wailed. “It wasn't my fault anyway. And--and, +besides, that Bangs man hadn't any right to say 'twas him I meant.... I +mean the control meant. It wasn't him at all.... I mean I don't believe +'twas. Oh, dear! I WISH you'd stop askin' questions, Abe Hardin'. CAN'T +you stop?” + +Galusha and Primmie set out for the Phipps' homestead ahead of its +owner, but she caught up with them at the gate. + +“He's goin' right up to bed,” she said. “Zach will look out for the +light to-night.” + +“And--” asked Galusha, with significant emphasis. + +Martha did not reply. She waited until they were in the sitting room and +alone, Primmie having been sentenced to go to her own room and to bed. +Miss Cash had no desire for bed; her dearest wish was to remain with her +mistress and their lodger and unload her burden of conversation. + +“My savin' soul!” she began. “My savin' soul! Did you ever in your born +days! When that Marietta Hoag--or that Chinee critter--or Cap'n +Jeth's ghost's wife--or whoever 'twas talkin' that spirit jabber--when +she--them, I mean--give out that a small, dark man was right there in +that house, I thought--” + +“Primmie, go to bed.” + +“Yes'm. And when I remembered that Nelse Howard was--” + +“Go to bed this minute!” + +“Yes'm. But how do you 'spose he's goin' to--” + +Miss Phipps conducted her to the foot of the back stairs and, returning, +closed each door she passed through behind her. Then she answered her +lodger's unspoken question. + +“Lulie will go with her father and help him up to his room,” she said. +“After he is out of the way Nelson can come out and Zach, I suppose, +will let him out by the side door.” + +Galusha smiled faintly. “The poor fellow must have been somewhat +disturbed when that--ah--medium person announced that the 'evil +influence' was in the house,” he observed. + +Martha sniffed. “I guess likely we were all disturbed,” she said. +“Especially those of us who knew. But how did Marietta know? That's what +I can't understand. Or did she just guess?” + +Before Bangs could answer there was a rap on the windowpane. Martha, +going to the door, admitted Nelson Howard himself. The young man's first +speech was a question. + +“Do you know what became of my hat?” he asked. “Like an idiot I hung my +hat and coat in that entry off the dining room when I went in. When I +came out just now the hat was gone.” + +Martha looked troubled. + +“It wasn't that cap you wear so much, at the station and everywhere?” + she asked. “I hope no one took THAT; they'd know whose 'twas in a +minute.” + +“Yes, that's what I'm afraid of. I... Eh? Why, there it is now.” + +The cap was lying on the couch beside Mr. Bangs' overcoat. Howard picked +it up with an air of great relief. + +“You brought it over for me, Mr. Bangs, didn't you?” he cried. + +“Why--why, yes, I--I did,” stammered Galusha. “You see, I--” + +The young man broke in enthusiastically. “By jingo, that was clever +of you!” he cried. “I was afraid some one had got that cap who would +recognize it. Say,” he went on, “I owe you about everything to-night, +Mr. Bangs. When Marietta gave out her proclamation that the 'small +dark man' was in that house I came nearer to believing in her kind of +spiritualism than I ever thought I should. I was scared--not on my own +account, I hope--but for Lulie and her father. If the old cap'n had +found me hiding in that front hall I don't know what he might have done, +or tried to do. And I don't know what effect it might have had on him. +He was--well, judging from what I could hear, he was in a state that +was--that was pretty near to--to--” + +While he was hesitating Martha Phipps finished the sentence. “To what +they put people in asylums for,” she said, emphatically. “He was, there +is no doubt about that. It's a mercy he didn't find you, Nelson. And if +I were you I wouldn't take any such chances again.” + +“I shan't, you needn't worry. When Lulie and I meet after this it will +be--Humph! well, I don't know where it will be. Even the graveyard +doesn't seem to be safe. But I must go. Tell Lulie I got away safe and +sound, thanks to Mr. Bangs here. And tell her to 'phone me to-morrow. +I'm anxious about Cap'n Jeth. Sometimes I think it might be just as well +if I went straight to him and told him--” + +Again Martha interrupted. + +“My soul, no!” she exclaimed. “Not now, not till he gets that 'small +dark man' notion out of his head.” + +“I suppose you're right. And Mr. Bangs has set him guessing on that, +too. Honestly, Mr. Bangs, you've just about saved--well, if you haven't +saved everybody's life you've come pretty near to saving the cap'n's +reason, I do believe. How Lulie and I can ever thank you enough I don't +know.” + +Galusha turned red. “Ah--ah--don't--ah--please don't,” he stammered. “It +was just--ah--a silly idea of mine. On the spur of the moment it came to +me that--ah--that the medium person hadn't said WHO the small, dark man +was. And as I am rather dark perhaps--and small, certainly--it occurred +to me to claim identity. Almost every one else had received some sort +of--ah--spirit message and, you see, I didn't wish to be neglected.” + +“Well, it was the smartest dodge that I ever heard of. By jingo, it was! +Say, you don't suppose Cap'n Jeth will take it seriously and begin to +get down on YOU, do you?” + +Martha looked grave. “I was wonderin' that myself,” she said. + +Galusha smiled. “Oh, dear no,” he said. “I think there is no danger of +that, really. But, Mr. Howard, in regard to that--ah--cap of yours, I... +Eh?... Um... Why, dear me, I wonder--” + +“Why is it you wonder, Mr. Bangs?” asked Martha, after a moment's wait. + +“Why--ah--considering that that cap of Mr. Howard's is one which, so +you and he say, he is in the habit of wearing, and that many people have +often seen him wear, I was wondering--Dear me, yes, that might explain.” + +“Explain what?” + +“Why, it occurred to me that as that cap was hanging in +the--ah--entry--the little hall off Captain Hallett's dining room--when +the people came in, and as the medium person--Miss--ah--bless me, what +IS her name?--as she came in with the rest, it occurred to me that she +might have seen the cap and--” + +Miss Phipps clapped her hands. “She saw it and knew whose it was,” she +cried, excitedly. “Of course she did! THAT'S how she guessed the +small, dark man was in the house. THAT'S how 'Little Toddy Blossom,' or +whatever her name is, got so smart all at once. Well, well! Of course, +of course!” + +“It--ah--occurred to me that that might possibly explain,” observed +Galusha, placidly. + +“It does. But, Nelson, what set Marietta and her spirits after you in +particular? Has she got any grudge against you?” + +“Not that I know of, Martha. She knows I don't take any stock in her +kind of spirit messages. I don't think she likes me very well on that +account.” + +“Well, perhaps, that is reason enough. Or perhaps she just happened the +first time to mention the small dark man hit or miss and Cap'n Jethro +pinned the tag to you; after that she did her best to keep it there. +Well, thanks to Mr. Bangs, the cap'n isn't as sure as he was, that's +some comfort.” + +Martha accompanied Nelson to the door. After he had gone and she +returned to the sitting room she found her lodger standing, lamp in +hand, at the foot of the stairs. + +“Goin' to turn in, Mr. Bangs?” she asked. “Goin' to bed, I mean? Father +always used to call it turnin' in; it's a saltwater way of sayin' it, +just as so many of his expressions were. I guess you must be pretty +tired. I know I am. Take it by and large--that is another of father's +expressions--we've had an excitin' evenin'.” + +Galusha admitted the fact. His landlady regarded him with an odd +expression. + +“Do you know,” she said, suddenly, “you are the most surprisin' person I +ever met, Mr. Bangs?... There! I didn't mean to say that,” she added. +“I was thinkin' it and it sort of spoke itself, as you might say. I beg +your pardon.” + +“Oh, that's quite all right, quite, Miss Phipps,” Galusha assured her. +“I have no doubt you are perfectly correct. No doubt I am surprising; +at least most people seem to find a peculiar quality in most of +my--ah--actions.” He smiled his gentle smile, and added, “I presume it +must be a part of my profession. In books, you know--in novels--the +few I have read--the archaeologist or the scientific man or the college +professor is always peculiar.” + +She shook her head. “That isn't just what I meant,” she said. “So far as +that goes I've generally noticed that folks with little brains are fond +of criticizin' those with bigger ones. Part of such criticisms is 'don't +understand' and the rest is plain jealousy. But what I meant by callin' +you surprisin' was--was--Well,” with a half laugh, “I might just as well +say it plain. Ever since you've been here, Mr. Bangs, the feelin' has +been growin' on me that you were probably the wisest man in the world +about some things and the most simple and impractical about others. Over +there in Egypt you know everything, I do believe. And yet right down +here on Cape Cod you need somebody to keep Ras Beebe and Raish Pulcifer +from cheatin' you out of your last cent. That's what I thought. +'Mr. Bangs is wonderful,' I said to myself, 'but I'm afraid he isn't +practical.' And yet to-night, over there, you were the only practical +one amongst us.” + +Galusha protested. “Oh, no, Miss Phipps,” he said. “Dear me, no. My +claiming to be the small, dark man was, as I said, merely a silly notion +which came to me. I acted on the spur of the moment. It was nothing.” + +“It was about everything,” stoutly. “It was your notion, as you call it, +that saved Cap'n Jethro from findin' Nelson Howard in that front hall; +and savin' him from that saved us from havin' a crazy man on our hands, +I truly believe. And you did it so right on the instant, so matter of +fact and common sense. Really, Mr. Bangs, I--I don't know what to say to +you.” + +Galusha smiled. “You said it before,” he observed, “when you said you +were surprised. I am surprised myself. Dear me, yes.” + +“Don't! That was a foolish thing for me to say and you mustn't take +it the wrong way. And your bringing Nelson's hat over here instead of +leavin' it in that entry for more of Marietta's crowd to notice and, ten +to one, recognize! We all knew it was hangin' there. I saw Nelson hang +it there, myself, when he came in. But did _I_ think to take it out of +sight? Did _I_--Why, what is it? What's the matter?” + +Her lodger was protesting violently. “Don't, don't, don't, Miss Phipps,” + he begged. “Please don't! You see, that hat--that cap of Mr. Howard's--” + +“Yes, you brought it over here.” + +“Yes, I--I brought it over. I brought it--but--” + +“But what?” + +“But I didn't know that I did. I must have been thinking of something +else when I went after my things and it is a mercy that I took my own +coat. It was only by accident that I took the--ah--young man's cap. I +was under the impression that it was my own. I presume my own cap is +hanging in the Hallett entry at this moment.... Ah--good-night, Miss +Phipps. Good night. I have had a very pleasant evening, very pleasant +indeed.” + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Martha Phipps and her lodger, to say nothing of Lulie Hallett, were +fearful of the effect which the eventful seance might have upon the +light keeper. It was with considerable foreboding that Martha called +Lulie up on the telephone the next morning. But the news she received +in answer to her call was reassuring. Captain Jethro, so Lulie said, was +apparently quite himself again, a little tired and a trifle irritable, +but otherwise all right. + +“The only unusual thing about him,” said his daughter, “is that he has +not once mentioned the seance or anything that happened there. If +it wasn't too ridiculous to be possible I should almost think he had +forgotten it.” + +“Then for the land sakes don't remind him,” urged Martha, eagerly. +“So long as HE is willin' not to remember you ought to be. Yes, and +thankful,” she added. + +“I guess likely he hasn't forgotten,” she said afterwards, in +conversation with her lodger. “I imagine he is a good deal upset in his +mind; your bouncin' in and claimin' to be the 'evil influence' put him +'way off his course and he hasn't got his bearin's yet. He's probably +tryin' to think his way through the fog and he won't talk till he sees +a light, or thinks he sees one. I wish to goodness the light would be so +strong that he'd see through Marietta Hoag and all her foolishness, but +I'm afraid that's too much to expect.” + +Her surmise was correct, for a few days later the captain met Galusha on +the road leading to the village and, taking the little man by the arm, +became confidential. + +“Mr. Bangs,” he said, “I cal'late you must think it's kind of queer my +not sayin' a word to you about what happened t'other night over to the +house.” + +Galusha, who had been thinking of something else and was mentally +thousands of miles away--on the banks of the Nile, in fact--regarded him +rather vacantly. + +“Eh? Oh--um--yes, of course,” he stammered. “I beg your pardon.” + +“No reason why you should beg my pardon. I don't blame you for thinkin' +so. It's natural.” + +“Yes--yes, of course, of course. But I don't know that I quite +comprehend. Of what were you speaking, Captain Hallett?” + +The captain explained. “Of course you think it's queer that I haven't +said a word about what Julia told us,” he went on. “Eh? Don't you?” + +“What--ah--what Miss Hoag said, you mean?” + +“Plague take Marietta!” impatiently. “She wan't nothin' but the +go-between. 'Twas my wife that said it. You understand 'twas Julia, my +wife, talkin', don't you?” + +“Why--ah--why--I suppose--” + +“Suppose? Don't you KNOW 'twas?” + +“Why--ah--no doubt, no doubt.” + +“Course there ain't any doubt. Well then, Julia said there was a dark +man heavin' a sort of evil influence over Lulie.” + +“She said a SMALL dark man, a stranger. And she said he was present +among us. So far as I can see I was the only small dark stranger.” + +“But you ain't an evil influence, are you?” + +“Well, I--ah--hope not. Dear me, no!” + +“I hope not, too, and I don't believe you are. No, there is some mistake +somewheres. 'Twas Nelson Howard she must have meant.” + +“But, Captain Hallett, Mr. Howard is not small.” + +“No, and he wan't there that evenin', neither. But I'm bettin' 'twas him +she meant just the same. Just the same.” + +“Do you think that is quite fair to Mr. Howard? If he isn't small, nor +very dark, and if he was not in your house that evening, how--” + +“I don't know--I don't know. Anyhow, I don't believe she meant you, Mr. +Bangs. She couldn't have.” + +“But--ah--why not?” + +“Because--well, because you couldn't be an evil influence if you tried, +you wouldn't know how. THAT much I'll bet on. There, there, don't let's +talk no more about it. Julia and me'll have another talk pretty soon and +then I'll find out more, maybe.” + +So that was the end of this portion of the conversation. The light +keeper positively refused to mention the subject again. Galusha was left +with the uneasy feeling that his brilliant idea of claiming to be +the small, dark influence for evil had not been as productive of good +results as he had hoped. Certainly it had not in the least shaken the +captain's firm belief in his spirit messages, nor had it, apparently, +greatly abated his prejudice against young Howard. On the other hand, +Lulie found comfort in the fact that in all other respects her father +seemed as rational and as keen as he had ever been. The exciting evening +with the Hoag spook had worked no lasting harm. For so much she and her +friends were grateful. + +The autumn gales blew themselves out and blew in their successors, the +howling blasts of winter. Winter at Gould's Bluffs, so Galusha Bangs +discovered, was no light jest of the weather bureau. His first January +no'theaster taught him that. Lying in his bed at one o'clock in the +morning, feeling that bed tremble beneath him as the wind gripped the +sturdy gables of the old house, while the snow beat in hissing tumult +against the panes, and the great breakers raved and roared at the foot +of the bluff--this was an experience for Galusha. The gray dawn of the +morning brought another, for, although it was no longer snowing, the +wind was, if anything, stronger than ever and the seaward view from his +bedroom window was a picture of frothing gray and white, of flying spray +and leaping waves, and on the landward side the pines were bending and +threshing as if they were being torn in pieces. He came downstairs, +somewhat nervous and a trifle excited, to find Mr. Bloomer, garbed in +oilskins and sou'wester, standing upon the mat just inside the dining +room door. Zacheus, it developed, had come over to borrow some coffee, +the supply at the light having run short. As Galusha entered, a more +than usually savage blast rushed shrieking over the house, threatening, +so it seemed to Mr. Bangs, to tear every shingle from the roof. + +“Goodness gracious!” exclaimed Galusha. “Dear me, what a terrible storm +this is!” + +Zacheus regarded him calmly. “Commenced about ten last night,” he +observed. “Been breezin' on steady ever since. Be quite consider'ble +gale if it keeps up.” + +Mr. Bangs looked at him with amazement. + +“If it keeps up!” he repeated. “Isn't it a gale now?” + +Zach shook his head. + +“Not a reg'lar gale, 'tain't,” he said. “Alongside of some gales I've +seen this one ain't nothin' but a tops'l breeze. Do you remember the +storm the night the Portland was lost, Martha?” + +Miss Phipps, who had come in from the kitchen with a can of coffee in +her hand, shuddered. + +“Indeed I do, Zacheus,” she said; “don't remind me of it.” + +“Why, dear me, was it worse than this one?” asked Galusha. + +Martha smiled. “It blew the roof off the barn here,” she said, “and blew +down both chimneys on the house and both over at Cap'n Jeth's. So far +as that goes we had plenty of company, for there were nineteen chimneys +down along the main road in Wellmouth. And trees--mercy! how the poor +trees suffered! East Wellmouth lost thirty-two big silver-leafs and +the only two elms it had. Set out over a hundred years ago, those elms +were.” + +“Spray from the breakers flew clear over the top of the bank here,” said +Zach. “That's some h'ist for spray, hundred and odd feet. I wan't here +to see it, myself, but Cap'n Jeth told me.” + +“You were in a more comfortable place, I hope,” observed Galusha. + +“Um--we-ell, that's accordin' to what you call comf'table. I was aboard +the Hog's Back lightship, that's where I was.” + +“Dear, dear! Is it possible?” + +“Um-hm. Possible enough that I was there, and one spell it looked +impossible that I'd ever be anywheres else. Godfreys, what a night that +was! Whew! Godfreys domino!” + +Primmie, who had also come in from the kitchen, was listening, +open-mouthed. + +“I bet you that lightship pitched up and down somethin' terrible, didn't +it, Zach?” she asked. + +Zacheus looked at her solemnly. “Pitched?” he repeated, after a moment's +contemplation. “No, no, she didn't pitch none.” + +“Didn't? Didn't pitch up and down in such a gale's that? And with waves +a hundred foot high? What kind of talk's that, Zach Bloomer! How could +that lightship help pitchin', I'd like to know?” + +Mr. Bloomer adjusted the tin cover on the can in which Martha had put +the coffee, then he put the can in the pocket of his slicker. + +“We-ll, I tell you, Primmie,” he drawled. “You see, we had pretty +toler'ble long anchor chains on that craft and when the captain see how +'twas blowin' he let them chains out full length. The wind blowed so +strong it lifted the lightship right out of the water up to the ends of +them chains and kept her there. Course there was a dreadful sea runnin' +underneath us, but we never felt it a mite; that gale was holdin' us up +twenty foot clear of it!” + +“Zacheus Bloomer, do you mean to say--” + +“Um-hm. Twenty foot in the air we was all that night and part of next +day. When it slacked off and we settled down again we was leakin' like a +sieve; you see, while we was up there that no'thwester had blowed 'most +all the copper off the vessel's bottom. Some storm that was, Posy, +some storm.... Well, so long, all hands. Much obliged for the coffee, +Martha.” + +He tugged his sou'wester tighter on his head, glanced at Miss Cash's +face, where incredulity and indignation were written large and +struggling for expression, turned his head in Mr. Bangs' direction, +winked solemnly, and departed. The wind obligingly and enthusiastically +saved him the trouble of closing the door. + +Galusha was not called upon to endure any such experiences as those +described by the veracious Mr. Bloomer in his record-breaking gale, but +during that winter he learned a little of what New England coast weather +could be and often was. And he learned, also, that that weather was, +like most blusterers, not nearly as savage when met squarely face to +face. He learned to put on layer after layer of garments, topping off +with oilskins, sou'wester and mittens, and tramp down to the village for +the mail or to do the household errands. He was growing stronger all +the time and if the doctor could have seen him plowing through drifts or +shouldering his way through a driving rain he would have realized that +his patient was certainly obeying the order to “keep out of doors.” + Martha Phipps was perfectly certain that her lodger was keeping out of +doors altogether too much. + +“You aren't goin' out to-day, Mr. Bangs, are you?” she exclaimed. “It's +as cold as the North Pole. You'll freeze.” + +Galusha smiled beneath his cap visor and between the ear-laps. + +“Oh, no, indeed,” he declared. “It's brisk and--ah--snappy, that's all. +A smart walk will do me good. I am accustomed to walking. In Egypt I +walk a GREAT deal.” + +“I don't doubt it; but you don't have much of this sort of weather in +Egypt, if what I've heard is true.” + +Mr. Bangs' smile broadened. “I fear I shall have to admit that,” he +said; “but my--ah--physician told me that a change would be good for me. +And this IS a change, now isn't it?” + +“I should say it was. About as much change as a plate of ice cream after +a cup of hot coffee. Well, if you're bound to go, do keep walkin' fast. +Don't forget that it's down to zero or thereabouts; don't forget that +and wander over to the old cemetery and kneel down in front of a slate +tombstone and freeze to death.” + +“Oh, I shall be all right, Miss Phipps. Really I shall. Don't worry, I +beg of you.” + +He had begged her not to worry on many other occasions and she had been +accustomed to answer him in a manner half joking and half serious. But +this time she did not answer at all for a moment, and when she did there +was no hint of a joke in her tone. + +“No,” she said, slowly. “I won't. I couldn't, I guess. Don't seem as if +I could carry any more worries just now, any more than I am carryin', I +mean.” + +She sighed as she said it and he looked at her in troubled alarm. + +“Oh, dear me!” he exclaimed. “I--I'm so sorry. Sorry that you are +worried, I mean. Is there anything I can do to--to--I should be very +glad to help in any way if--” + +He was hesitating, trying to say the right thing and very fearful +of saying too much, of seeming to be curious concerning her personal +affairs, when she interrupted him. She was standing by the kitchen door, +with one hand upon the knob, and she spoke without looking at him. + +“There is nothin' you or anybody can do,” she said. “And there isn't a +single bit of use talkin' about it. Trot along and have your walk, +Mr. Bangs. And don't pay any attention to what I said. It was just +silliness. I get a little nervous, sometimes, but that's no reason for +my makin' other people that way. Have a good walk.” + +He did not have a very good walk and his thoughts while walking were not +as closely centered about ancient inscriptions, either Egyptian or East +Wellmouthian, as was usually the case upon such excursions. Miss Martha +Phipps was worried, she had said so, herself. Yes, and now that he +thought of it, she looked worried. She was in trouble of some sort. A +dreadful surmise entered his mind. Was it possible that he, his presence +in her house, was the cause of her worry? He had been very insistent +that she take him as boarder and lodger. The sum he paid each week +was ridiculously small. Was it possible that, having consented to the +agreement, she had found it a losing one and was too kind-hearted and +conscientious to suggest a change? He remembered agreements which he had +made, and having made, had hesitated to break, even though they turned +out to be decidedly unprofitable and unpleasant. He had often been +talked into doing things he did not want to do, like buying the yellow +cap at Beebe's store. Perhaps he had talked Miss Phipps into taking him +as boarder and lodger and now she was sorry. + +By the time Galusha returned from his walk he was in what might be +described as a state of mind. + +As he entered the Phipps' gate he met some one coming down the path +toward it. That some one, it developed, was no less a person than Mr. +Horatio Pulcifer. Raish and Galusha had not encountered each other for +some time, weeks, in fact, and Mr. Bangs expected the former's greeting +to be exuberant and effusive. His shoulders and his spirit were alike +shrinking in anticipation. + +But Raish did not shout when he saw him, did not even shake hands, to +say nothing of thumping the little man upon the back. The broad and +rubicund face of East Wellmouth's leading politician and dealer in +real estate wore not a grin but a frown, and when he and Galusha came +together at the gate he did not speak. Galusha spoke first, which was +unusual; very few people meeting Mr. Horatio Pulcifer were afforded the +opportunity of speaking first. + +“Ah--good-morning, Mr. Pulcifer,” said Galusha, endeavoring to open the +gate. + +“Huh!” grunted Raish, jerking the gate from Mr. Bangs' hand and pushing +it somewhat violently into the Bangs' waistcoat. “Mornin'.” + +“It is a nice--ah--cool day, isn't it?” observed Galusha, backing from +the gateway in order to give Horatio egress. Mr. Pulcifer's answer was +irrelevant and surprising. + +“Say,” he demanded, turning truculently upon the speaker, “ain't women +hell?” + +Galusha was, naturally, somewhat startled. + +“I--I beg your pardon?” he stammered. + +“I say ain't women hell? Hey? Ain't they, now?” + +Galusha rubbed his chin. + +“Well,” he said, doubtfully, “I presume in--ah--certain instances +they--My experience has been limited, but--” + +“Humph! Say, they make me sick, most of 'em. They haven't any more +business sense than a hen, the heft of 'em ain't. Go into a deal with +their eyes open and then, when it don't turn out to suit 'em, lay down +and squeal. Yes, sir, squeal.” + +“Ah--I see. Yes, yes, of course. Squeal--yes. The--the hens, you mean.” + +“HENS? No, women. They make me sick, I tell you.... And now a lot of dum +fools are goin' to give 'em the right to vote! Gosh!” + +He strode off along the road to the village. Galusha wonderingly gazed +after him, shook his head, and then moved slowly up the path to the +house. Primmie opened the door for him. Her eyes were snapping. + +“Hello, Mr. Bangs!” she said. “I 'most wisht he'd drop down dead and +then freeze to death in a snowbank, that's what I wish.” + +Galusha blinked. + +“Why, bless my soul!” he exclaimed. “Of whom are you speaking?” + +“That everlastin' Raish Pulcifer. I never did like him, and now if he's +comin' around here makin' her cry.” + +“Eh? Making her cry?” + +“Sshh! She'll hear you. Makin' Miss Martha cry. She's up in her room +cryin' now, I'll bet you on it. And he's responsible.... Yes'm, I'm +comin'. Don't say nothin' to her that I told you, will you, Mr. Bangs?” + +She hurried away in response to her mistress' hail. Galusha said nothing +to Miss Phipps nor to any one else, but during the rest of that day +he did a great deal of thinking. Martha Phipps was worried, she was +troubled, she had been crying; according to Primmie Horatio Pulcifer was +responsible for her tears. Galusha had never fancied Mr. Pulcifer, now +he was conscious of a most extraordinary dislike for the man. He had +never disliked any one so much in all his life, he was sure of that. +Also he was conscious of a great desire to help Martha in her trouble. +Of course there was a certain measure of relief in learning that +Pulcifer and not he was responsible for that trouble, but the relief was +a small matter in comparison with the desire to help. + +He could think of but one way in which Horatio Pulcifer could cause +worry for Martha Phipps and that was in connection with some business +matter. Certain fragments of conversations occurred to him, certain +things she had said to him or to Captain Hallett in his hearing which +were of themselves sufficient to warrant the surmise that her trouble +was a financial one. He remembered them now, although at the time they +had made little impression upon his mind. But Raish Pulcifer's name was +not mentioned in any of those conversations; Captain Jethro's had been, +but not Raish's. Yet Primmie vowed that the latter had made Miss Martha +cry. He determined to seek Primmie and ask for more particulars that +very evening. + +But Primmie saved him the trouble of seeking her. Miss Phipps and her +maid left him alone in the sitting room as soon as supper was over and +neither came back. He could hear the murmur of voices in the kitchen, +but, although he sat up until ten o'clock, neither Primmie nor her +mistress joined him. So he reluctantly went up to his room, but had +scarcely reached it when a knock sounded on the door. He opened it, lamp +in hand. + +“Why, Primmie!” he exclaimed. + +Primmie waved both hands in frantic expostulation. + +“Sshh! shh! shh!” she breathed. “Don't say nothin'. I don't want her +to hear you. PLEASE don't let her hear you, Mr. Bangs. And PLEASE come +right downstairs again. I want to talk to you. I've GOT to talk with +you.” + +More bewildered than he had before been, even on that bewildering day, +Galusha followed Miss Cash down the stairs, through sitting room and +dining room to the kitchen. Then Primmie put down the lamp, which she +had taken from his hand, carefully closed the door behind them, turned +to her companion and burst out crying. + +“Why--why, Primmie!” exclaimed Galusha. “Oh, dear me! What is it?” + +Primmie did not answer. She merely waved her hands up and down and stood +there, dripping like a wet umbrella. + +“But--my soul, Primmie!” cried Mr. Bangs. “Don't! You--you mustn't, you +know.” + +But Primmie did, nevertheless. Galusha in desperation turned toward the +door. + +“I'm going to call Miss Phipps,” he declared. Primmie, the tears still +pouring down her cheeks, seized him by the arm. + +“Don't you do it!” she commanded. “Don't you dast to do it! I'll--I'll +stop cryin'. I--I'm goin' to if you'll only wait and give me a chance. +There! There! See, I'm--I'm stoppin' now.” + +And, with one tremendous sniff and a violent rub of her hand across her +nose, stop she did. But she was still the complete picture of misery. + +“Why, what IS the matter?” demanded Galusha. + +Primmie sniffed once more, gulped, and then blurted forth the +explanation. + +“She--she's canned me,” she said. + +Galusha looked at her uncomprehendingly. Primmie's equipment of Cape Cod +slang and idiom, rather full and complete of itself, had of late been +amplified and complicated by a growing acquaintance with the new driver +of the grocery cart, a young man of the world who had spent two hectic +years in Brockton, where, for a portion of the time, he worked in a shoe +factory. But Galusha Bangs, not being a man of the world, was not up in +slang; he did not understand. + +“What?” he asked. + +“I say she's canned me. Miss Martha has, I mean. Oh, ain't it awful!” + +“Canned you? Really, I--” + +“Yes, yes, yes! Canned me, fired me. Oh, DON'T stand there owlin' at +me like that! Can't you see, I--Oh, please, Mr. Bangs, excuse me for +talkin' so. I--I didn't mean to be sassy. I'm just kind of loony, I +guess. Please excuse me, Mr. Bangs.” + +“Yes, yes, Primmie, of course--of course. Don't cry, that's all. +But what is this? Do I understand you to say that Miss Phipps +has--ah--DISCHARGED you?” + +“Um-hm. That's what she's done. I'm canned. And I don't know where to go +and--and I don't want to go anywheres else. I want to stay here along of +her.” + +She burst into tears again. It was some time before Galusha could calm +her sufficiently to get the story of what had happened. When told, +flavored with the usual amount of Primmieisms, it amounted to this: +Martha had helped her with the supper dishes and then, instead of going +into the sitting room, had asked her to sit down as she had something +particular to say to her. Primmie obediently sat and her mistress did +likewise. + +“But she didn't begin to say it right off,” said Primmie. “She started +four or five times afore she really got a-goin'. She said that what +she'd got to say was dreadful unpleasant and was just as hard for her to +say as 'twould be for me to hear. And she said I could be sartin' sure +she'd never say it if 'twan't absolutely necessary and that she hadn't +made up her mind to say it until she'd laid awake night after night +tryin' to think of some other way out, but that, try as she could, she +didn't see no other way. And so then--so then she said it. Oh, my savin' +soul! I declare I never thought--” + +“Hush, hush, Primmie. Ah--control yourself, please. You promised not to +cry, you know.” + +“Cry! Well, ain't I tryin' not to cry, for mercy sakes? She was cryin', +too, I tell you, afore she finished. If you'd seen the pair of us +settin' there bellerin' like a couple of young ones I cal'late you'd a +thought so.” + +“Bellowing? Miss Phipps?” + +“Oh, I don't mean bellerin' out loud like a--like a heifer. I guess +likely I was doin' that, but she wan't. She was just cryin' quiet, you +know, but anybody could see how terrible bad she was feelin'. And then +she said it--oh, dear, dear! How CAN I tell it? How CAN I?” + +Galusha groaned, in harassed desperation. + +“I don't know,” he admitted, “But I--really I wish you would.” + +Miss Phipps had, it seemed, told her maidservant that, owing to the +steadily increasing cost of living, of food and clothes and every item +of daily expense, she was finding it more and more hard to get along. +She said her income was very small and her bills continually growing +larger. She had cut and scrimped in every possible way, hoping against +hope, but at last she had been driven to the point where even the small +wage she was paying Primmie seemed more than she could afford. Much as +she hated to do it, she felt compelled to let the girl go. + +“She said she'd help me get another place,” said Primmie, “and that I +could stay here until I did get one, and all sorts of things like that. +I told her I didn't want no other place and I didn't care a bit about +the wages. I said I'd rather work here without a cent of wages. She said +no, she wouldn't let me do that. If she couldn't pay me I couldn't work +here. I said I could and I should and she said I couldn't and shouldn't. +And--and we both cried and--and that's the way it ended. And that's why +I come to you, Mr. Bangs. I CAN'T go away and leave her. I CAN'T, Mr. +Bangs. She can't keep this whole house a-goin' without somebody to help. +I've GOT to stay. You make her keep me, Mr. Bangs. I don't want no pay +for it. I never was no hand to care for money, anyhow. Pa used to say I +wan't. None of our folks was. Matter of that, we never had none to care +for. But you make her keep me, Mr. Bangs.” + +She began to sob once more. Poor Galusha was very much distressed. The +cause of Martha Phipps' worry was plain enough now. And her financial +stress must be very keen indeed to cause her to take such drastic action +as the discharge of Primmie the faithful. + +“You'll make her keep me, won't you, Mr. Bangs?” pleaded Primmie, once +more. + +Galusha rubbed his chin. “Dear me,” he said, perplexedly, “I--Well, I +shall be glad to do all I can, of course, but how I can make her keep +you when she has made up her mind not to, I--really, I don't see. +You don't think, do you,” he added, “that my being here is in any way +responsible for a portion of Miss Phipps' financial trouble? You don't +think it might be--ah--easier for her if I was to--ah--go?” + +Primmie shook her head. “Oh, no, no,” she declared, with decision, “You +ain't a mite of bother, Mr. Bangs. I've heard Miss Martha say more'n a +dozen times what a nice man you was and how easy 'twas to provide +for you. She likes you, Miss Martha does, and I do, too. Even when we +thought you was an undertaker huntin' 'round for remains we liked you +just the same.” + +Galusha could not help feeling a certain satisfaction in this +whole-hearted declaration. It was pleasant to learn that he was liked +and that his hostess considered him a nice man. + +“Thank you, Primmie,” he said. “But what I meant was--was--Well, I +pay what seems to me a ridiculously small sum for board and lodging. I +begged to be allowed to pay more, but Miss Phipps wouldn't permit it. +Now I am sure she must be losing money in the transaction and if I were +to go--ah--elsewhere perhaps it might be--ah--easier for her. Candidly, +don't you think so, Primmie?” + +Miss Cash appeared to consider. Then she shook her head again. “No,” she +said, “I don't. You pay your board and I've heard her say more'n once +that she felt as if you was payin' too much. No, 'tain't that. It's +more'n that. It ain't anything to do really with you or me, Mr. Bangs. +Miss Martha's lost some money somehow, I believe. She ain't got enough +to get along on, 'cause she told me she hadn't. Now, she used to have +and I believe she's lost some of it somewheres. And I believe that--” + +Galusha felt it his duty to interrupt. + +“Primmie,” he continued, “you mustn't tell me anything which Miss Phipps +wouldn't wish told. I wouldn't for the world have you think that I am +unduly curious concerning her personal affairs. If there is any trait +which I--ah--detest above others it is that of unwarranted curiosity +concerning the--ah--private affairs of one's acquaintances. I... Why do +you look at me like that? Were you about to speak?” + +Primmie was staring at him in what seemed to be awe-stricken admiration. +She drew a long breath. + +“My Lord of Isrul!” she exclaimed, fervently, “I never heard anybody +string talk along the way you can in all my born days, Mr. Bangs. I bet +you've said as many as seven words already that I never heard afore, +never heard ary one of 'em, I ain't. Education's wonderful, ain't it? Pa +used to say 'twas, but all he had he picked up off fishin' and clammin' +and cranberrin' and around. All our family had a kind of picked-up +education, seemed so.” + +“Yes, yes, Primmie, but--” + +“But why don't I mind my own business and stick to what I was goin' to +say, you mean? All right, I will. I was goin' to say that I believe Miss +Martha's lost money somehow and I believe that dressed-up stuffed image +of a Raish Pulcifer is responsible for her losin' it, that's what I +believe.” + +“Mr. Pulcifer! Why, Primmie, why do you say that? What proof have you?” + +“Ain't got no proof. If folks could get proof on Raish Pulcifer he'd +have been in jail long ago. Zach Bloomer said that only the other day. +But a body can guess, can't they, even if they ain't got proof, and +that's what I'm doin'--guessin'. Every once in a while Miss Martha goes +up to the village to see this Pulcifer thing, don't she? Yes, she does. +Went up twice inside of a fortni't that I know of. Does she go 'cause +she likes him? I cal'late she don't. She likes him about the way I do +and I ain't got no more use for him than a hen has for a toothbrush. And +t'other day she sent for him and asked him to come here and see her. How +do I know she did? 'Cause she telephoned him and I heard her doin' it, +that's how. And he didn't want to come and she just begged him to, said +she would try not to bother him again if he would come that once. And he +came and after he went away she cried, same as I told you she did.” + +“But, Primmie, all that may be and yet Mr. Pulcifer's visit may have no +connection with Miss Martha's monetary trouble.” + +“I want to know! Well, if that's so, why was she and him talkin' so hard +when he was here this afternoon? And why was she askin' him to please +see if he couldn't get some sort of an offer? I heard her ask that.” + +“Offer for what?” + +“Search me! For somethin' she wanted to sell, I presume likely. And he +says to her, 'No, I can't,' he says. 'I've told you so a dozen times. +If I could get anybody to buy I'd sell my own, wouldn't I? You bet your +life I would!' And she waited a minute and then she says, kind of low +and more as if she was talkin' to herself than to him, 'What SHALL I +do?' she says. And he heard her and says he--I'd like to have chopped +his head off with the kindlin' hatchet when I heard him say it--says he, +'_I_ don't know. How do you s'pose _I_ know what you'll do? I don't know +what I'll do, myself, do I?' And she answered right off, and kind of +sharp, 'You was sure enough what was goin' to be done when you got +father into this thing.' And he just swore and stomped out of the house. +So THAT sounds as if he had somethin' to do with it, don't it?” + +Galusha was obliged to admit that it did so sound. And when he +remembered Mr. Pulcifer's remark at the gate, that concerning women +and business, the evidence was still more convincing. He did not tell +Primmie that he was convinced, however. He swore her to secrecy, made +her promise that she would tell no one else what she had told him or +even that she had told him, and in return promised to do what he could +to bring about her retention in the Phipps' home. + +“Although, as I said, Primmie,” he added, “I'm sure I can't at present +see what I can do.” + +Another person might have found little encouragement in this, but +Primmie apparently found a good deal. + +“You'll see a way, I'll bet you you will, Mr. Bangs,” she declared. +“Anybody that's been through the kind of times you have, livin' along +with critters that steal the shirt off your back, ain't goin' to let +a blowed-up gas balloon like Raish Pulcifer stump you. My savin' soul, +no!” + +Mr. Bangs smiled faintly. + +“The shirt wasn't on my back when it was stolen,” he said. + +Primmie sniffed. “It didn't have no chance to be,” she declared. “That +camel thing got it onto HIS back first. But, anyhow, I feel better. I +think now we're goin' to come out all right, Miss Martha and me. I don't +know why I feel so, but I do.” + +Galusha was by no means as confident. He went back to his room and to +bed, but it was long before he fell asleep. Just why the thought of +Martha Phipps' trouble should trouble him so greatly he still did +not understand, exactly. Of course he was always sorry for any one in +trouble, and would have gone far out of his way to help such a person, +had the latter appealed to him. But Martha had not appealed to him; as a +matter of fact, it was evident that she was trying to keep knowledge +of her difficulty from him and every one else. Plainly it was not his +business at all. And yet he was filled with an intense desire, even a +determination, to make it his business. He could not understand why, but +he wasted no time trying to understand. The determination to help was +strong when at last he did fall asleep and it was just as strong when he +awoke the next morning. + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +He endeavored, while dressing, to map out a plan of campaign, but +the map was but a meaningless whirligig of lines leading nowhere when +Primmie called from the foot of the stairs that breakfast was ready. +During breakfast he was more absent-minded than usual, which is saying a +good deal, and Martha herself was far from communicative. After the +meal he was putting on his hat and coat preparatory to going out for his +usual walk when Primmie came hurrying through the hall. + +“She wants you,” said Primmie, mysteriously, her eyes shining with +excitement. “She wants to see you in the settin' room. Come on, come on, +Mr. Bangs! What are you waitin' for?” + +As a general rule Galusha's thoughts started upon the morning ramble +some little time before he did and recalling them was a rather slow and +patience-taxing process. In this case, however, they were already in the +sitting room with Martha Phipps and so had a shorter road home. But they +came slowly enough, for all that. + +“Eh?” queried Galusha, peering out between the earlaps of his cap. “Eh? +What did you say, Primmie?” + +“I say Miss Martha wants to see you a minute. She's in there a-waitin'. +I bet you she's goin' to tell you about it. Hurry! hurry!” + +“Tell me?... About what?” + +“Why, about what 'tis that's worryin' her so. About that Raish Pulcifer +and all the rest of it.... Oh, my Lord of Isrul! Don't you understand +NOW? Oh, Mr. Bangs, won't you PLEASE wake up?” + +But Galusha was beginning to understand. + +“Dear me! Dear me!” he exclaimed, nervously. “Do you think that--Did she +say she wished to see me, Primmie?” + +“Ain't I been tellin' you she did? Now you talk right up to her, Mr. +Bangs. You tell her I don't want no wages. Tell her I'll stay right +along same as ever and--You TELL her, Mr. Bangs.” + +Martha was standing by the stove in the sitting room when her lodger +entered. She turned to greet him. + +“I don't know as I'm doin' right to keep you from your walk, Mr. Bangs,” + she said. “And I won't keep you very long. But I did want to talk with +you for just a minute or two. I wanted to ask your advice about--about a +business matter.” + +Now this was very funny indeed. It would have been hard to find a richer +joke than the idea of consulting Galusha Bangs concerning a matter of +business. But both parties to this consultation were too serious to see +the joke at that moment. + +Galusha nodded solemnly. He faltered something about being highly +honored and only too glad to be of service. His landlady thanked him. + +“Yes,” she said, “I knew you would be. And, as I say, I won't keep you +very long. Sit down, Mr. Bangs. Oh, not in that straight up-and-down +thing. Here, in the rocker.” + +Galusha lifted himself from the edge of the straight-backed chair upon +which he had perched and sat upon the edge of the rocking-chair instead. +Martha looked at him sitting there, his collar turned up, his cap brim +and earlaps covering two thirds of his face and his spectacles at least +half of the remaining third, his mittened hands twitching nervously in +his lap, and, in spite of her feelings, could not help smiling. But it +was a fleeting smile. + +“Take off your things, Mr. Bangs,” she said. “You'll roast alive if you +don't. It's warm in here. Primmie forgot and left the dampers open and +the stove was pretty nearly red-hot when I came in just now. Yes, take +off your overcoat and cap, and those mittens, for mercy sakes.” + +Galusha declared that he didn't mind the mittens and the rest, but she +insisted and he hastily divested himself of his wrappings, dropping +them upon the floor as the most convenient repository and being greatly +fussed when Miss Phipps picked them up and laid them on the table. + +“I--I beg your pardon,” he stammered. “Really, I DON'T know why I am +so thoughtless. I--I should be--ah--hanged or something, I think. Then +perhaps I wouldn't do it again.” + +Martha shook her head. “You probably wouldn't in that case,” she said. +“Now, Mr. Bangs, I'm going to try to get at that matter I wanted to +ask your opinion about. Do you know anything about stocks--stockmarket +stocks, I mean?” + +Her lodger looked rather bewildered. + +“Dear me, no; not a thing,” he declared. + +She did not look greatly disappointed. + +“I didn't suppose you did,” she said. “You--well, you don't look like +a man who would know much about such things. And from what I've seen +of you, goodness knows, you don't ACT like one! Perhaps I shouldn't say +that,” she added, hastily. “I didn't mean it just as it sounded.” + +“Oh, that's all right, that's all right, Miss Phipps. I know I am +a--ah--donkey in most matters.” + +“You're a long way from bein' a donkey, Mr. Bangs. And I didn't say +you were, of course. But--oh, well, never mind that. So you don't know +anything about stocks and investments and such?” + +“No, I don't. I am awfully sorry. But--but, you see, all that sort of +thing is so very distasteful to me. It bores me--ah--dreadfully. And so +I--I dodge it whenever I can.” + +Martha sighed. “Some of the rest of us would like to dodge it, too,” she +said, “if we only could. And yet--” she paused and regarded him with the +odd expression she had worn more than once when he puzzled her--“and yet +I--I just can't make you out, Mr. Bangs. You say you don't know anything +about money and managin' money, and yet those Egypt trips of yours must +cost a lot of money. And somebody must manage them. SOMEBODY must 'tend +to payin' the bills and the wages and all. Who does that?” + +Galusha smiled. “Why, I do,” he admitted, “after a fashion. But it is a +very poor fashion. I almost never--I think I may safely say never come +in from one of those trips without having exceeded the--ah--estimate of +expenses. I always exceed it more or less--generally more.” + +He smiled again. She looked more puzzled than ever. + +“But some one has to pay the extra, don't they?” she asked. “Who does +pay it, the museum people?” + +“Why--ah--no, not exactly. It is--ah--ah--generally provided. But,” he +added, rather hastily, as if afraid she might ask more questions along +this line, “if I might make a suggestion, Miss Martha--Miss Phipps, I +mean--” + +“Plain Martha will do well enough. I think you're the only one in +East Wellmouth that calls me anything else. Of course you can make a +suggestion. Go ahead.” + +“Well--ah--well, Miss Phipps--ah--Miss Martha, since you permit me to +call you so.... What is it?” + +“Oh, nothin', nothin'. I was goin' to say that the 'Miss' wasn't +necessary, but never mind. Go on.” + +“Well--ah--Mar--ah--Miss Martha, I was about to suggest that you tell me +what you intended telling me. I am very anxious to help--ah--even if I +can't, you know. Only I beg of you not to think I am actuated by idle +curiosity.” + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +“Even if you were I don't know that I shouldn't want to tell you, just +the same,” she observed. “The fact is I've just GOT to talk this over +with some one. Mr. Bangs, I am so worried I don't know what to do. It is +a money matter, of course, that's worryin' me, an investment father made +a little while before he died. Mr. Bangs, I don't suppose it's likely +that you ever heard of the Wellmouth Development Company? No, of course +you haven't.” + +And yet, as she looked into her lodger's face, she was surprised at its +expression. + +“Why, you never have heard of it, have you?” she demanded. + +Galusha stroked his chin. “That day in the cemetery,” he murmured. “That +day when I was--ah--behind the tomb and heard Captain Hallett and Mr. +Pulcifer speaking. I may be mistaken, but it seems to me that they +mentioned the name of--ah--ah--” + +“The Development Company? Of course they did and you told me so when you +got home. I remember now. Well, Cap'n Jeth and Raish were both mixed up +in it along with father. Yes, and Doctor Powers and a lot more, though +not so much. Raish, of course, was at the back of it in the beginnin'. +He got 'em all in it, got himself into it, as far as that goes. You see, +it was this way.” + +She told the story of the Wellmouth Development Company. It--the +story--began when the Eagle Fish Freezing Company of Denboro, a concern +then running and operating one large cold storage plant in that village, +were looking about for a favorable spot upon which to build a second. +The spot which appealed to their mind to purchase was the property at +the mouth of Skoonic Creek in East Wellmouth. + +“It's a real pretty place,” said Martha, “one of the prettiest spots +alongshore, and the view from the top of the bluff there is just +lovely. You can see miles and miles out to sea and all up and down the +shore--and back over the village, for that matter. But, come to think of +it, you know the place, Mr. Bangs. It's only a little way from the old +Baptist buryin' ground.” + +Galusha nodded. “Isn't it where my--ah--late lamented hat set sail?” he +asked. + +“Why, of course it is. Just there. Well, the Eagle Fish folks made their +plans to buy all that property, the hills on both sides, and the low +land down by the creek. It was just the place for 'em, you see. And they +were quietly makin' arrangements to pick up the different parcels of +land from the owners here and there, when Raish Pulcifer got wind of it. +There's precious little goin' on down this part of the Cape that Raish +doesn't get wind of, particularly if it's somebody else's secret. He's +got a reg'lar pig's nose for rootin' up other people's private concerns. +Well, Raish found out what the Eagle Company was up to and he started +bein' up to somethin' himself.” + +Mr. Pulcifer, so Miss Phipps went on to say, conceived the idea of +buying the Skoonic Creek property before the Eagle Company could do so. +The principal difficulty was that just then his own limited capital was +tied up in various ways and he lacked ready money. So, being obliged to +borrow, he sought out Captain Hallett, got the shrewd old light keeper's +cupidity aroused--not a very difficult task at any time--and Captain +Jethro agreed to help finance the deal. + +“It didn't need a whole lot of real money,” explained Martha. “Most +folks that owned that land had owned it for mercy knows how long and had +done nothin' but pay taxes on it, so they were glad enough to sell for +somethin' down to bind what Raish and Jethro called 'options.' Anyhow, +when the Eagle people finally started in to put their grand plan into +workin', they bumped bows on into a shoal, at least that's the way +father used to tell about it. They found that all that Skoonic Creek +land was in the hands of Raish Pulcifer and Cap'n Jeth Hallett; those +two either owned it outright or had options where they didn't own.” + +At first the Eagle Company declined to have anything to do with the new +owners. They declared the whole affair off, so far as the Skoonic +Creek location was concerned, and announced their intention of going +elsewhere. But there was no sufficiently attractive “elsewhere” to go. +There followed much proposing and counter-proposing and, at last, an +entirely new deal. A new corporation was formed, its name The Wellmouth +Development Company. + +“I don't know a great deal about it,” confessed Martha, “that is, not +about the reasons for it and all, but, as near as I can make out, Raish +and Jethro wouldn't sell outright to the Eagle Company, but wanted to +come in on the profits from the cold storage business, which were +pretty big sometimes. And they couldn't get into the reg'lar Eagle Fish +Freezing Company, the old one. So they and the Eagle folks together +undertook to form this new thing, the Development Company, the name +meanin' nothin' or a whole lot, 'cordin' to how the development +developed, I presume likely. The capital stock--I know all this because +Cap'n Jethro and father used to talk it over so much between 'em and +Cap'n Jeth and I have talked so much since--was fifty thousand. An awful +lot of money, isn't it, Mr. Bangs?” + +Her tone was awe-stricken as she mentioned the amount. Galusha gravely +admitted that it was an “awful lot of money.” All sums were awful to +him; he would have agreed if the Wellmouth Development Company had been +capitalized from one thousand to a million. Miss Phipps went on. + +“They put out the stock somethin' like this: The Eagle folks took pretty +near half, somewhere around twelve hundred shares, I think they had. +And Raish he took five hundred shares, and Cap'n Jeth four hundred, and +father--after listenin' to Jethro and Raish talk about dividends and +profit sharin' and such till, as he said, the tar on his top riggin' +began to melt, he drew out money from the savin's bank and sold some +other bonds and stocks he had and went in for two hundred and fifty +shares. Twenty dollars a share it was; did I tell you that? Yes, five +thousand dollars father put into that Development Company. It seemed +like a lot even then; but, my soul and body, WHAT a lot it seems to me +now!” + +She paused for an instant, then sighed, and continued. + +“If you've figured this all out in your head, Mr. Bangs,” she said, +“which I suppose you haven't--?” + +Galusha, surprised by the direct question, started, colored, and +guiltily admitted the correctness of her supposition. + +“I--I haven't,” he faltered. “Dear me, no. In fact I--ah--doubt if I am +capable of doing such a thing.” + +“Well, never mind, you don't have to. What it amounted to was that the +Eagle folks had twelve hundred shares and Raish and Jeth and father had +eleven hundred and fifty together. You see, neither side would let the +other have more'n half, or even quite half, because then whichever had +it could control things. So the remainin' one hundred and fifty shares +was sold around Wellmouth and Trumet. Doctor Powers has a few shares +and Eben Taylor's got some, and so have lots of folks, scattered around +here. You see, all hands were anxious to get in, it looked like a real +good investment. + +“'But,' says father--right here in this very room I heard him say it +one night--'it's that one hundred and fifty shares that worry me. If +the Eagle crowd ever COULD buy up those shares they would control, after +all, and freeze us out. Freezin' is their business, anyhow,' he said, +and laughed that big laugh of his. Seems as if I could hear him laugh +now. Ah, hum!... But there, let's get under way again or you'll go to +sleep before the ship makes port. I declare, that was father's word, +too, I'm always quotin' him.... Let me see.... Oh, yes.... When father +said that about the one hundred and fifty shares controllin' Cap'n +Jethro looked at Raish and Raish looked at him. Then Raish laughed, too, +only his laugh isn't much like father's. + +“'_I_ got those extra shares taken up,' he said, 'and I was particular +who took 'em. There's mighty few of those shares will be sold unless +I say the word. Most of the folks that bought those shares are under +consider'ble obligation to me.' Just what he meant by that I don't know, +of course, but I can guess. Raish makes it a point to have people +under what he calls 'obligations' to him. It comes in handy for him, in +politics and other ways, to have 'em that way. He lends money and holds +mortgages and all that, and that's where the obligations come in.... +Well, anyhow, that's what he said and, although father didn't look any +too happy at the time and wouldn't talk about it afterward, it seemed +to settle the objection about the hundred and fifty shares. So the new +company got under way, the stockholders paid their money in, old Cap'n +Ebenezer Thomas of Denboro was made president and Raish Pulcifer was +vice president and Judge Daniel Seaver of Wellmouth Centre was secretary +and treasurer. The Judge was Wellmouth Centre's biggest gun, rich--at +least, that's what everybody thought then--and pompous and dignified and +straight-backed as an old-fashioned church pew. + +“Well, I'm pretty near to the end, although it may not seem that way. +For the first few months all hands were talkin' about what great things +the Wellmouth Development Company was goin' to do. Then Judge Seaver +gave 'em somethin' else to talk about. He shot himself one night, and +they found him dead and all alone in the sittin' room of his big house. +And when they came to look over his papers and affairs they found that, +instead of bein' rich, he hadn't a cent in the world. He had lost all +his own money gamblin' in stocks, and, not only that, but he'd lost all +that other folks had given him to take care of. He was treasurer of the +Eagle Fish Freezin' Company and he'd stolen there until that company had +to fail. And, bein' secretary and treasurer of the Wellmouth Development +Company, he had sent the fifty thousand its stockholders paid in after +the rest of his stealin's. All there was left of that new Development +Company was the land over here by Skoonic Creek. He couldn't steal that +very well, although, when you think of the stealin' he did do, it's a +wonder he hadn't tried to carry it off by the wheelbarrow load. + +“It isn't worth while my tellin' you all the hullabaloo that came after +the smash. It would take too long and I don't know the ins and outs of +it, anyway. But the way it stands now is this: The Eagle Fish Freezin' +Company is out of business. Their factory is run now by another concern +altogether. The Wellmouth Development Company is still alive--at least +it's supposed to be, but nobody but a doctor could tell it wasn't +dead. The Denboro Trust Company has the Eagle Company's twelve hundred +shares--I don't know how it got 'em; a long snarled-up tangle of loans, +and security for loans, and I don't know what--and the rest of us have +got ours. All that's back of those shares--all that the Development +Company owns--is that Skoonic Creek property and that is goin' to be +worth a lot some day--maybe. But I guess likely the some day will be a +long, long time after MY day. There, Mr. Bangs, that's the story of the +Wellmouth Development Company. And I presume likely you're wonderin' why +I tell it to you.” + +Galusha, who had been faithfully endeavoring to grasp the details of +his hostess' narrative, passed a hand in bewildered fashion across his +forehead. He murmured that the story was--ah--very interesting, very +interesting indeed--yes. Martha smiled faintly. + +“I'm glad you think so,” she said. “It is interestin' enough to some of +us here in Wellmouth, those of us who have our money tied up in it, but +I shouldn't think a stranger would find much in it to amuse him. +But, you see, Mr. Bangs, I didn't tell it to amuse you. I told it +because--because--well, because, I--I wondered if in any way you knew, +or could find out, how I could sell my two hundred and fifty shares. +You see, I--I've GOT to sell 'em. At least, I've got to get more money +somehow or--or give up this house. And I can't tell you what it would +mean to me to do that.” + +Galusha murmured something, something meant to be sympathetic. Miss +Phipps' evident distress and mental agitation moved him extraordinarily. +He wanted to say many things, reassuring things, but he could not at the +moment think of any. The best he could do was to stammer a hope that she +would not be obliged to sell the house. + +She shook her head. “I'm afraid I shall,” she said. “I don't see how +I can possibly keep it much longer. When father died he left me, so he +thought, with enough income to get along on. It wasn't much--fact is, it +was mighty little--but we could and did get along on it, Primmie and +I, without touchin' my principal. But then came the war and ever since +livin' costs have been goin' up and up and up. Now my income is the same +as it was, but what it will buy is less than half. It doesn't cost much +to live down here, but I'm afraid it costs more than I can afford. If I +begin to take away from my principal I'll have to keep on doin' it and +pretty soon that will be all gone. After that--well, I don't want to +look any further than that. I shouldn't starve, I presume likely; while +I've got hands I can work and I'd manage to keep alive, if that was all. +But it isn't all. I'd like to keep on livin' in my own home. And I can't +do that, Mr. Bangs. I can't do that, as things are now. I must either +get some more money somehow, or sell this house, one or the other.” + +Galusha leaned eagerly forward. He had been waiting for an excuse and +now he believed he saw one. + +“Oh, Miss Phipps,” he cried, “I--I think I can arrange that. I do +indeed. You see, I have--ah--more money than I need. I seldom spend my +money, you know, and--” + +She interrupted him and her tone was rather sharp. + +“Don't, Mr. Bangs,” she said. “Don't say any more. If you've got the +idea that I'm hintin' for you to LEND me money--you or anybody else--you +never was more mistaken in your life. Or ever will be.” + +Galusha turned red. “I beg your pardon,” he faltered. “Of course I know +you were not hinting, Miss Martha. I--I didn't dream of such a thing. It +was merely a thought of my own. You see, it would be such a favor to me +if you would permit me to--to--” + +“Don't.” + +“But, Miss Phipps, it would be doing me such a GREAT favor. Really, it +would.” + +He was so very much in earnest that, in spite of her own stress of mind, +she could not help smiling. + +“A great favor to help you get rid of your money?” she asked. “You +havin' such a tremendous lot of it, I presume likely.” + +“Yes--ah--yes, that's it, that's it.” + +Her smile broadened. “And 'twas because you were so dreadfully rich that +you came here to East Wellmouth to live, I suppose. Mr. Bangs, you're +the kindest, best-hearted man that ever stepped, I do believe, but truly +I doubt if you know whether you're worth ten dollars or ten hundred. +And it doesn't make the least difference, so far as I am concerned. I'll +never borrow money while I'm alive and I'll try to keep enough one side +to bury me after I'm dead. So don't say any more about lendin'. That's +settled.” + +Galusha reluctantly realized that it was. He tried a new idea. + +“I fear,” he stammered, “that my being here may have been a contributory +cause to your--ah--difficulties. Dear me, yes! I have realized since the +beginning that the amount I pay you is ridiculously small.” + +“WHAT? The board you pay SMALL? Rubbish! You pay me altogether too much +and what I give you to eat isn't worth half of it. But there, I didn't +mean to go into all this at all. What I told you all this long rigmarole +for was to see if you could think of any way for me to turn those +Development Company shares of mine into money. Not what father paid +for them, of course, or even half of it. But SOME money at least. If I +thought they weren't worth anything I shouldn't think of tryin' to sell +'em. I don't want to cheat--or steal. But they tell me they are worth +somethin', maybe will be worth quite a good deal some day and I must +wait, that's all. But, you see, that's what I can't do--wait.” + +She had been, she said, to every one she could think of, to Pulcifer, +who would not give her any encouragement, declaring that he was “stuck” + worse than she was and was only hoping some one might make a bid for his +holdings; to Captain Jethro, who, relying as usual upon his revelations +from the beyond, blandly told her to wait as he was waiting. It had been +communicated to him that he was to sell his own shares at a profit; if +she waited she might do likewise. The president of the Denboro Trust +Company had been very kind, but his counsel was not too encouraging. +The Development shares were nonsalable at the present time, he said, but +that did not mean that they were valueless. The Skoonic Creek property +was good. Shore land on the Cape was becoming more valuable every year. +Some time--perhaps ten years from now--she might-- + +“And where will I be in ten years?” asked Martha, sadly. “Goodness +knows, Mr. Bangs, I don't. I tried to get the Trust Company man to take +my shares at almost any price and do the waitin' for me, but he didn't +see it that way. Said the bank was goin' to hold on to what it had, but +it certainly didn't want any more. So there I am.... And yet, and yet if +I COULD sell--if I COULD get two thousand dollars, yes, or even fifteen +hundred just now, it might tide me over until the cost of livin' comes +down. And everybody says they ARE comin' down. Mr. Bangs, can you see +any way out for me? Can you think of any one who would know about--Oh, +my soul and body! Look OUT!” + +She sprang to her feet with a little scream. Her lodger's rocking-chair, +with its occupant, had suddenly tilted over backward. Fortunately his +proximity to the wall had prevented a complete overturn, but there sat +Galusha, the back of the chair against the wall and his knees elevated +at a very acute angle. The alarming part of it was that he made no +effort to regain his equilibrium, but remained in the unusual, not to +say undignified, posture. + +“What IS the matter?” demanded Miss Phipps, seizing him by the arm and +pulling him forward. “What was it? What happened?” + +Galusha's face was beaming. His eyes shone with excitement. + +“It--it struck me at that moment,” he cried. “At that very moment.” + +“Struck you?” Miss Phipps looked about the room. “What struck you? +Where? Are you hurt?” + +Mr. Bangs' beaming smile broadened. + +“I mean the idea struck me,” he declared. “Dear me, how odd that it +didn't do so before. Yes, he is exactly the right person. Exactly. Oh, +dear me, this is VERY good!” + +Martha said afterward that she never in her life felt more like shaking +a person. + +“What do you mean?” she demanded. “What was it that struck you?” + +“Why, Cousin Gussie,” announced Galusha, happily. “Don't you see? He +will be EXACTLY the one.” + + + +CHAPTER X + + +When, at last--and it took some time--Martha Phipps was actually +convinced that her lodger's “Cousin Gussie” was no less a person than +the senior partner of the famous banking firm of Cabot, Bancroft and +Cabot, she was almost as excited as he. + +“Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot,” she repeated. “Why, everybody knows about +them! They are the biggest bankers in New England. I have heard father +say so ever so many times. And this Mr. Cabot, is he really your +cousin?” + +Galusha nodded. “Oh, yes,” he said. “He is my cousin--really he is. I +have always called him Cousin Gussie; that is,” he added, “except when I +worked for him, of course. Then he didn't like to have me.” + +“Worked for him?” + +“Yes, in his office, in the--ah--banking house, you know.” + +“Do you mean to say you used to work for Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot? Were +you a banker?” + +Galusha shook his head. “No,” he said. “Dear me, no! But once I tried to +be.” + +“Oh! And you gave it up?” + +“_I_ was given up--as a bad job. If you don't mind,” he added, +apologetically, “I'd rather not talk about that. I've gotten over it +a long while ago, or I thought I had, but for a time I--I felt very +badly--ah--ungrateful, you know.” + +Martha didn't know, nor did she in the least understand, but she did +not, of course, press the subject. + +“Why, I can hardly believe it,” she said. “That about your bein' that +Mr. Cabot's cousin, I mean. But of course I do believe it, if you say +so, Mr. Bangs. And you think he would tell me what to do with this +Development stock of mine, whether it is worth anything or not? He would +know, if anybody did, that's a fact.” + +Galusha nodded assent. + +“He knows all about everything,” he declared; “everything of that kind, +I mean. He is used to making all sorts of--ah--investments for people, +and taking care of their money, and all that sort of thing. Why,” he +added, as a final clincher, “he takes care of all my money, really, he +does.” + +Miss Phipps laughed. + +“And that I suppose is enough to keep one man busy,” she observed. + +Galusha was too much in earnest to notice the sarcasm. + +“I'm sure it must be,” he said. “I never could do it myself.” + +“I can believe that without any trouble. Now what is your idea, Mr. +Bangs; to write to your cousin, tell him everything I've told you, and +then ask his advice? Is that it?” + +That was not exactly it, apparently. Galusha thought that perhaps he +might go to Boston forthwith, on the very next train, and consult Cousin +Gussie in person. But Martha did not think this advisable. + +“I certainly shouldn't put you to all that trouble,” she said. “No, +I shouldn't, so please don't let's waste time arguin' about it. And, +besides, I think a letter would be a great deal better.” + +Galusha said that a letter was so slow. + +“Maybe so, but it is sure. Truly now, Mr. Bangs, do you believe if you +went to your cousin that you could tell him this Development Company +yarn without gettin' it all tangled up? I doubt if you could.” + +He reflected for a moment, and then ruefully shook his head. + +“I'm afraid you are right,” he admitted. “I presume I could learn +it--ah--by rote, perhaps, but I doubt if ever I could understand it +thoroughly.” + +“Well, never mind. My plan would be to have you write your cousin a +letter givin' him all the particulars. I'll help you write the letter, +if you'll let me. And we'll ask him to write right back and tell us two +things: Number One--Is the Development stock worth anything, and what? +Number Two--If it is worth anything, can he sell it for that? What do +you think of that idea?” + +Naturally, Galusha thought it a wonderful idea. He was very enthusiastic +about it. + +“Why, Miss Phipps--Miss Martha, I mean,” he declared, “I really think +we--ah--may consider your troubles almost at an end. I shouldn't be +in the least surprised if Cousin Gussie bought that stock of yours +himself.” + +Martha smiled, faintly. “I should,” she said, “be very much surprised. +But perhaps he may know some one who will buy it at some price or +other. And, no matter whether they do or not, I am ever and ever so much +obliged to you, Mr. Bangs, for all your patience and sympathy.” + +And, in spite of her professed pessimism she could not help feeling a +bit more hopeful, even sharing a bit of her lodger's confidence. And so +when Primmie, in tears, came again that afternoon to beg to be retained +in service, Martha consented to try to maintain the present arrangement +for a few weeks more, at least. + +“Although the dear land knows I shouldn't, Primmie,” she said. “It's +just postponin' what is almost sure to come, and that isn't right for +either of us.” + +Primmie's grin extended from ear to ear. + +“You bet you it's right for one of us, Miss Martha,” she declared. +“And you ain't the one, neither. My Lord of Isrul, if I don't feel some +better'n I did when I come into this room! Whew! My savin' soul! Zach +Bloomer he says to me this mornin'. 'What's the matter, Posy?' he says. +'Seems to me you look sort of wilted lately. You better brace up,' he +says, 'or folks'll be callin' you a faded flower.' 'Well,' says I, 'I +may be faded, but there's one old p'ison ivy around here that's fresh +enough to make up.' Oh, I squashed HIM all righty, but I never took no +comfort out of doin' it. I ain't took no comfort for the last two, three +days. But now--Whew!” + +The letter to Cousin Gussie was written that very afternoon. Mr. Bangs +wrote it, with helpful suggestions, many of them, from Miss Phipps. At +Martha's suggestion the envelope was marked “Personal.” + +“I suppose it is foolish of me,” she said, “but somehow I hate to have +my affairs talked all over that office. Even when I was a little girl, +and things went wrong in school, I used to save up my cryin' until I got +home. I'm the same now. This Development Company milk is spilled, and, +whether any of it can be saved or not, there is no use callin' a crowd +to look at the puddle. If your cousin thinks it's necessary to tell +other Boston folks, I presume he will, but WE won't tell anybody but +him.” + +Galusha hoped to receive an answer the following day, but none came. Nor +did it come the next day, nor the next. That week passed and no reply +came from Cousin Gussie. Galusha began to worry a little, but Miss +Phipps did not. + +“Perhaps he's away for a day or two, sick or somethin',” she suggested. +“Perhaps he's lookin' up some facts about the Development Company. +Perhaps he hasn't had time to read the letter at all yet. Mercy me, you +mustn't expect as busy a man as the head of Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot +to drop everything else and run around in circles attendin' to my little +two-for-a-cent business!” + +The relative of the great man admitted that there was reason in this +line of argument, but he was impatient, nevertheless. His daily walks +now included trips to the post office. On one of those trips he caught a +glimpse of Mr. Pulcifer's hemispherical countenance through its wearer's +office window, and, on the spur of the moment's impulse, went in. + +Horatio, who was smoking his customary cigar, reading a political +circular and humming “Beautiful Lady” all at the same time, looked up +from the reading and greeted him boisterously. + +“Well, well, well!” exclaimed Raish. “If it ain't the Perfessor +again! Welcome to amongst our midst, as the feller said. Have a chair, +Perfessor. How's things in the graveyard these days? Kind of dead around +there, eh? Haw, haw, haw!” + +He enjoyed his joke and laugh and Galusha smiled because he felt that +politeness required it. When the laugh and smile had run their course, +he endeavored to come to the point. + +“Mr. Pulcifer,” he said, “I--if you are not too greatly occupied I +should like to ask--ah--a business question. Ah--may I?” + +He most assuredly could. In fact, he was urged to ask it then and there. + +“Never too busy to talk business, a feller usually ain't; eh, Perfessor? +Haw, haw! I'd say he wan't, eh? Set down, set down and ease your mind. +What's the business question? Let 'er go.” + +Mr. Bangs let her go to the extent of stammering a request to be given +his companion's candid opinion concerning the shares of the Wellmouth +Development Company. He was--ah--somewhat interested in them, so he +said. + +Raish leaned back in his chair and scrutinized the questioner. He shot +at least five deep-drawn puffs of smoke into the already murky air of +the little office before replying. + +“Humph!” he grunted, after the fifth puff. “Wellmouth Development +Company, eh? You're interested in that, are you?” + +“Why--ah--yes, yes. To a certain extent, yes, Mr. Pulcifer.” + +“Humph! What d'you mean, interested? How interested?” + +“Why, as--ah--as an investment, you know. As something to put one's +money into.” + +“Humph! Was you thinkin' of puttin' some of yours into it?” + +“Why, not exactly. But, you see, a friend of mine--But, really, I think +I shouldn't give any further particulars at the present time. You'll +excuse me under the circumstances, Mr. Pulcifer, I'm sure. Dear me, I +hope you will.” + +He was forgiven. Mr. Pulcifer assured him to that effect. But Raish +was still uncertain just how to proceed. He continued to puff and +scrutinize. + +“What I wish to know,” continued his caller, after another moment's +interval, “is--well, in short, I should like to know your opinion of +Wellmouth Development shares as an investment security.” + +“Um--ye-es. Well, you said that before.” + +“Did I? Dear me, I believe I did. Well, then, suppose, just suppose that +I actually did wish to buy some of those shares. Would you consider it a +good thing for me to do?” + +Here at last was something tangible--and promising. Mr. Pulcifer's puffy +lids drew nearer together to hide the gleam behind them. He took the +cigar from his mouth and held it between the fingers of his right hand. +During his next speech he gesticulated with it. + +“Would I consid--” he began, and then paused, apparently overcome by his +feelings. The pause was not long, however. “Would I consider Wellmouth +Development a good thing for you to put your money in? WOULD I?” + +“Ah--yes. Would you?” + +“Say, Perfessor, you listen to me. _I_ know all about Wellmouth +Development. You've come to the right place. You listen.” + +Galusha listened, listened for a long time. The red of the Pulcifer +cigar tip died out and that of the Pulcifer face brightened. + +“And so I say,” vowed Raish, in conclusion, “with all that property +behind it and all that future ahead of it, if Development ain't a good +investment, what is?” + +“I don't know, I'm sure,” confessed Galusha. “But--” + +“Don't know? You bet you don't know! Nor nobody else. Not for quick +returns, maybe--though you can't never tell. But for a feller that's +willin' to buy and put away and hang on--say, how can you beat it?” + +“I don't know, but--” + +“You bet you don't know! The main thing is to buy right. And I'm goin' +to put you wise--yes, sir, wise to somethin' I wouldn't let every Tom, +Dick, and Harry in on, by a consider'ble sight. I think I can locate a +fair-sized block of that stock at--well, at a little bit underneath the +market price. I believe--yes, sir, I believe I can get it for you at--at +as low as eighteen dollars a share. I won't swear I can, of course, but +I MAY be able to. Only you'll have to promise not to tell anybody how +you got it.” + +“Eighteen dollars a share? Is that a fair price, do you think, Mr. +Pulcifer?” + +“FAIR price?” Mr. Pulcifer was overcome by the absurdity of the +question. “A fair price!” he repeated. “Man alive, it's a darned LOW +price! You buy Wellmouth Development at that price and then set back and +hang on. Yes, sir, that's all you'll have to do, just hang on and wait.” + +To his surprise, Mr. Bangs seemed to find something humorous in this +suggestion. Instead of appearing thrilled, as he certainly should, he +smiled. + +“Ah--yes,” he observed, quietly. “That is what my friend has been doing, +I believe. Yes, indeed, just that.” + +Raish did not smile. He looked puzzled and a bit perturbed. + +“What friend?” he demanded. “Been doin' what?” + +“Hanging on and waiting, as you advise, Mr. Pulcifer. She has +had--ah--several shares of the Development stock and she--” + +“Hold on! Did you come here to SELL somebody's stock for 'em?” + +“Why, no, not exactly. But, as I say, a friend of mine has some and she +was anxious to know what it was worth at the present time. When I tell +her that you will give eighteen dollars a share for it--” + +“Here!” Raish's smile and his urbanity had vanished. “Here,” he +demanded, “what are you talkin' about? Who the devil said anything about +my givin' eighteen dollars a share?” + +“Why, I understood you to say that the--ah--shares were cheap at that +figure, that it was a very low price for them. You did say that, didn't +you?” + +Mr. Pulcifer seemed to find articulation difficult. He blew and +sputtered like a stranded porpoise and his face became redder than ever, +but he did not answer the question. + +“I understood--” began Galusha, again, but a roar interrupted him. + +“Aw, you understand too darn much,” shouted Raish. “You go back and tell +Martha Phipps I say I don't know what them shares of hers are worth +and I don't care. You tell her I don't want to buy 'em and I don't know +anybody that does. Yes, and you tell her that if I did know anybody that +was fool enough to bid one dollar of real money for 'em I'd sell him +mine and be darn glad of the chance. And say, you tell her not to bother +me no more. She took her chance same as the rest of us, and if she don't +like it she can go--Eh? What is it?” + +His caller had risen, rather suddenly for him, and was standing beside +the desk. There was a peculiar expression on his thin face. + +“What's the matter?” demanded Mr. Pulcifer. Galusha's gaze was very +direct. + +“I wouldn't say that,” he said, quietly. + +“Eh? Say what? I was just goin' to say that if Martha Phipps didn't like +waitin' same as the rest of us she--” + +“Yes, yes,” hastily, “I know. But I shouldn't say it, if I were you.” + +“You wouldn't. Why not, for thunder sakes?” + +“Because--well, I am sure you were speaking hastily--without thinking.” + +“Is that so? How do YOU know I wasn't thinkin'?” + +“Because I am sure no one who had stopped to think would send that sort +of message to a lady.” + +“Humph!... Well, I swear!... Wouldn't send--I want to know!” + +“Yes--ah--and now you do know. Good-day, Mr. Pulcifer.” + +He was at the door when the surprised and, to tell the truth, somewhat +disconcerted Horatio called after him. + +“Here! Hold on, Perfessor,” he hailed; “don't go off mad. I didn't mean +nothin'. Er--er--say, Perfessor, I don't know's there's any use in your +tellin' Martha what I said about them Development shares bein' cheap +at eighteen. Of course, that was all--er--more or less of a joke, you +understand, and--Eh? What say?” + +“I said I understood, Mr. Pulcifer.” + +“Yes--er--yes, yes. Glad you do; I thought you would. Now I tell you +what to do: You tell Martha... you tell her... say, what ARE you goin' +to tell her?” + +“Nothing. Good-day, Mr. Pulcifer.” + +Galusha did not tell Martha of the interview in the real estate dealer's +office, but the recollection of it did not tend to make him more easy +in his mind concerning her investment in Wellmouth Development Company. +And, as another week went by and still Cousin Gussie did not reply to +the letter of inquiry, his uneasiness grew with his impatience. Another +and more practical person would have called the Boston bankers by +telephone, but Galusha did not think of that. Martha offered no +suggestions; her advice was to wait. + +“I don't think we ought to hurry your cousin, Mr. Bangs,” she said. +“He's probably lookin' into things, and he'll write when the time +comes.” + +Galusha devoutly wished the time would come soon. He somewhat felt a +great responsibility in the matter. This sense of responsibility caused +him to assume more and more optimism as his nervousness increased. Each +day of waiting found him covering his disappointment and anxiety with a +more cheerful prophecy. + +“I've been thinking, Miss Martha,” he said, “that Cousin Gussie must be +MOST interested in the--ah--Development Company. I really believe that +he may be considering going into it himself--ah--extensively, so to +speak. The more he delays replying to our letter, the more certain I am +that this is the case. You see, it is quite logical. Dear me, yes. If he +were not interested at all he would have replied at once, any one would. +And if only a little interested, he would have replied--say, at the end +of a week. But now he has taken almost three weeks, so--so--well, _I_ +think we may infer GREAT interest, personal interest on his part. Now, +don't you think so, Miss Martha?” + +Martha shrugged. “Accordin' to that reasonin,” she said, “if he never +answers at all it'll be because he's interested to death. Well, it +begins to look as if that might be it. There, there, Mr. Bangs, I +mustn't talk that way, must I? We won't give up the ship as long's the +pumps work, as father used to say.” + +It was the first symptom of discouragement she had shown. The next +morning Galusha crept downstairs before daylight, left a note on the +dining table saying he would be back next day, and started on his long +tramp to the railway station. At noon of that day he entered the Boston +office of Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot. + +Disappointment met him at the threshold, so to speak. The young, +extremely young, gentleman at the desk by the door, informed him that +Mr. Augustus Cabot was not in. Pressed still further, he admitted that +he would not be in that day. No, he would not be in that week. No, he +was not in Boston. Where was he? Well, he had gone away and the date of +his return was extremely uncertain. + +Galusha, his spirits at a low ebb, stroked his chin in sad perplexity. + +“Dear me! Dear me!” he observed. And then added: + +“Is--is anybody in?” + +Considering that the space behind the mahogany and brass railings was +crowded with clerks and that from the various inner offices people +were constantly coming and going, the question was peculiar. The young +guardian of the portal seemed to find it so. He regarded Mr. Bangs +with the puzzled stare of one not certain whether he has to do with a +would-be joker or an imbecile. + +“Say, who do you want to see?” he demanded. + +“Why, Mr. Cabot--Mr. Augustus Cabot.” + +“Mr. Cabot's away, I tell you. He's out of town.” + +A tall, thin man of middle age, who had just emerged from one of the +private offices, paused beside them. He looked at Galusha through his +eyeglasses, and then held out his hand. + +“Why, Bangs!” he exclaimed. “It IS Bangs, isn't it? Glad to see you. +Don't you know me? I'm Minor. How are you?” + +Galusha remembered him, of course. Minor had been a young assistant +bookkeeper in those far-off and dismal days when he, Galusha, had +worked--or attempted to work--in that very office. That was--mercy, that +was a great many years ago! Minor had changed very much. + +They shook hands and Galusha was invited to come into Mr. Minor's +private office. + +“Let me see,” said the latter, “you are--you are--What is your business +now? I did hear, but I've forgotten.” + +Galusha told of his connection with the National Institute. + +“I do--ah--archaeological work,” he added. “Egyptology is my specialty.” + +Minor nodded. “Yes, yes,” he said, doubtfully. “Just so.” + +Plainly he regarded it as a weird sort of business. + +“And you are still a--ah--banker?” queried Galusha. + +“Yes. Very much so. I'm second vice president here now.” + +“Dear me! dear me! You have been in this place ever since? Well, well!” + +A pause, during which each regarded the other, trying not to show the +pity they felt. Then Minor asked if there was anything he could do for +his former associate. Galusha explained that he had come to town to +see his cousin, Mr. Augustus Cabot, on a business matter. Mr. Minor was +surprised, momentarily. + +“That's so,” he said, “he is a relative of yours, isn't he? I had +forgotten.” + +“Yes, yes, he is. He--ah--you see, he looks after things for +me--investments and--all that.” + +“Humph! Well, if you wanted to see him personally, you're out of luck. +He is away out in the Sierras, somewhere. Been there for a month and he +won't come back till the doctors tell him he may. Goodness knows when +that will be.” + +Cousin Gussie had, it appeared, suffered a severe nervous breakdown. +The physicians had ordered immediate dropping of business and business +cares. + +“He must drop everything, they said, and cut, if he wanted to head off +something a good deal more serious. He must get out of doors and stay +there; go to bed early at night--instead of early in the morning, which +had been more in his line--and rough it generally.” + +“Why--yes, yes, indeed. That was almost precisely what the doctors told +me I must do. Rest and--ah--good air, you know, and pleasant people. _I_ +was very fortunate, really. I am at--ah--Gould's Bluffs, Cape Cod, you +know.” + +“Yes? Well, he's away out in California or Nevada or thereabouts. His +secretary is with him--Thomas, the fellow he's had so many years; you +remember him. Thomas has gone along to see that the chief--Mr. Cabot, +I mean--doesn't get any business letters or wires or anything of that +sort. He looks out for those that do come, the personal matters.” + +“Oh! Then perhaps my letter has been forwarded out there. That would +explain why I have received no answer. Yes, of course.” + +“Sure! Thomas will write you by and by, no doubt. But now that you are +here, why don't you see Barbour? Barbour is in charge of the chief's +outside affairs while Thomas is away. That is, he is in charge of +everything that can be handled here. The most important stuff goes to +Thomas, of course. But come in and see Barbour. Perhaps he can tell you +what you want to know.” + +Mr. Barbour was a bald-headed, worried-looking little man, who, in the +seclusion of a rear office, sat behind a big desk. Minor introduced +Galusha and Mr. Barbour extended a moist and flabby hand. Minor excused +himself and hastened out to the really important matters of life. +Galusha told Barbour the story of his letter to Cousin Gussie. He did +not tell what was in the letter, further than to say that it was an +inquiry concerning a certain investment security. + +Barbour shook his head. + +“Everything marked 'Personal' I forward to Thomas,” he said. “He'll +write you pretty soon, although I'm pretty sure he won't trouble the +chief with your question. Doctors are mighty strict about that. Nothing +we here can do to help, is there? Perhaps Mr. Minor might answer your +question.” + +Galusha was thinking of Minor that very moment, but he shook his head. +Martha had asked that no one but Cousin Gussie be told of her trouble. +No, he would wait, at least until he heard from the secretary in the +West. + +“Why, thank you, Mr. Barbour,” he said, rising. “I--I will wait, I +think.” + +“All right, sir. Sorry, but you see how it is. Drop in again, +Mr.--er--Barnes. Barnes was the name, wasn't it?” + +“Why, not exactly. My name is Bangs, but it really doesn't matter in +the least. Dear me, no. I am a relative of Mr. Cabot's. But that doesn't +matter either. Good-morning, Mr. Barbour.” + +But it did seem to matter, after all. At any rate, Mr. Barbour for the +first time appeared actually interested. + +“Eh?” he exclaimed. “Bangs? Oh, just a minute, Mr. Bangs. Just a minute, +if you please. Bangs? Why, are you--You're not the--er--professor? +Professor Ga--Ga--” + +“Galusha. Yes, I am Galusha Bangs.” + +“You don't mean it! Well, well, that's odd! I was planning to write you +to-day, Professor. Let me see, here's the memorandum now. We look after +your business affairs, I believe, Professor?” + +Galusha nodded. He was anxious to get away. The significance of Cousin +Gussie's illness and absence and what those might mean to Martha Phipps +were beginning to dawn upon him. He wanted to get away and think. The +very last thing he wished to do was to discuss his own business affairs. + +“Yes,” he admitted; “yes, you--ah--do. That is, Cousin Gussie--ah--Mr. +Cabot does. But, really, I--” + +“I won't keep you but a moment, Professor. And what I'm going to tell +you is good news, at that. I presume it IS news; or have you heard of +the Tinplate melon?” + +It was quite evident that Galusha had not heard. Nor, hearing now, did +the news convey anything to his mind. + +“Melon?” he repeated. “Ah--melon, did you say?” + +“Why, yes. The Tinplate people are--” + +It was a rather long story, and telling it took longer than the minute +Mr. Barbour had requested. To Galusha it was all a tangled and most +uninteresting snarl of figures and stock quotations and references to +“preferred” and “common” and “new issues” and “rights.” He gathered +that, somehow or other, he was to have more money, money which was +coming to him because the “Tinplate crowd,” whoever they were, were to +do something or other that people like Barbour called “cutting a melon.” + +“You understand, Professor?” asked Mr. Barbour, concluding his +explanation. + +Galusha was at that moment endeavoring to fabricate a story of his own, +one which he might tell Miss Phipps. It must not be too discouraging, it +must-- + +“Eh?” he ejaculated, coming out of his daydream. “Oh, yes--yes, of +course.” + +“As near as I can figure, your share will be well over twelve thousand. +A pretty nice little windfall, I should say. Now what shall I do with +it?” + +“Yes.... Oh, I beg your pardon. Dear me, I am afraid I was not attending +as I should.” + +“I say what shall I do with the check when it comes. That was what I +intended writing you to ask. Do you wish me to reinvest the money, or +shall I send the check to you?” + +“Yes--ah--yes. If you will be so kind. You will excuse me, won't you, +but really I must hurry on. Thank you very much, Mr. Barbour.” + +“But I don't quite understand which you wish me to do, Professor. Of +course, Thomas usually attends to all this--your affairs, I mean--but I +am trying not to trouble him unless it is absolutely necessary. Shall I +send the check direct to you, is that it?” + +“Yes--yes, that will do very nicely. Thank you, Mr. Barbour. +Good-morning.” + +He hurried out before Barbour could say any more. He cared nothing about +Tinplate melons or checks; in fact, he forgot them both almost before +he reached the street. But Martha Phipps--he had assured and reassured +Martha Phipps that Cousin Gussie would help her out of her financial +difficulties. And Cousin Gussie had not as yet learned of those +difficulties, nor, in all probability, would he be permitted ever to +learn of them. + +Galusha Bangs' trip back to East Wellmouth was by no means a pleasure +excursion. What should he say to Martha? How could he be truthful and +yet continue to be encouraging? If he had not been so unreasonably +optimistic it would be easier, but he had never once admitted the +possibility of failure. And--no, he would not admit it now. Somehow and +in some way Martha's cares must be smoothed away. That he determined. +But what should he say to her now? + +He was still asking himself that question when he turned in at the +Phipps' gate. And Fate so arranged matters that it was Primmie who heard +the gate latch click and Primmie who came flying down the path to meet +him. + +“Mr. Bangs! Oh, Mr. Bangs!” she cried, breathlessly. “It's all right, +ain't it? It's all right?” + +Galusha, startled, stared at her. + +“Dear me, Primmie,” he observed. “How you do--ah--bounce at one, so to +speak. What is the matter?” + +“Matter? I cal'late we both know what's the matter, but what _I_ want to +know is if it's goin' to keep ON bein' the matter. Is it all right? Have +you fixed it up?” + +“Fixed what up? And PLEASE speak lower. Yes, and don't--ah--bounce, if +you don't mind.” + +“I won't, honest I won't. But have you fixed up Miss Martha's trouble; +you and them Bancroft folks, I mean? Have you, Mr. Bangs?” + +“Bancroft folks?... How did you know I--” + +“I seen it, of course. 'Twas in that note you left on the table.” + +“Note? Why, Primmie, that note was for Miss Phipps. Why did you read +it?” + +“Why wouldn't I read it? There 'twas laid out on the table when I came +down to poke up the fire and set the kettle on. There wasn't no name on +it, so 'twan't till I'd read it clear through that I knew 'twas for Miss +Martha. It said: 'Have gone to Boston to see--er--what's-his-name and +Somebody-else and--' Never mind, Bancroft's all I remember, anyhow. But +it said you'd gone to them folks to see about 'stock matter.' Well, then +I knew 'twas for Miss Martha. _I_ didn't have no stock matters for folks +to see about. My savin' soul, no! And then you said, 'Hope to settle +everything and have good news when I come back.' I remember THAT all +right.... Oh, Mr. Bangs, have you settled it? HAVE you got good news for +her?” + +By this time she had forgotten all about the request to speak in a low +tone. Galusha glanced fearfully at the open door behind her. + +“Sshh! shh, Primmie,” he begged. + +“But have you? Have you, Mr. Bangs?” + +“Why--why, perhaps, Primmie. I mean--that is to say--” + +He stopped. Miss Phipps was standing in the doorway. + +“Why, Mr. Bangs!” she exclaimed. “Are you here so soon? I didn't expect +you till to-night. What are you standin' out there in the cold for? Come +in, come in!” + +And then Primmie, to make use of the expressive idiom of her friend, the +driver of the grocery cart, Primmie “spilled the beans.” She turned, saw +her mistress, and ran toward her, waving both hands. + +“Oh, Miss Martha!” she cried, “he--he's done it. He says it's all right. +He does! he does!” + +“Primmie!” + +“He says he's been to them--them Bancroft what's-his-name folks and he's +got the good news for you. Oh, ain't it elegant! Ain't it!” + +This wild perversion of his guarded statement took Galusha completely +by surprise. He started forward aghast. And then he saw Martha Phipps' +face. Upon it were written such hope and relief and joy that the words +of expostulation and protest remained unspoken. And it was Martha who +spoke first. + +“Oh, Mr. Bangs!” she gasped. “Oh, Mr. Bangs!” + +Galusha's chin quivered. His face became very red. + +“Why--why--why, Miss Martha, I--I--” + +His agitation caused his teeth actually to chatter. Martha noticed the +chatter and misinterpreted the cause. + +“Mercy me!” she cried. “You're standin' out there and freezin' to death. +Of course you are. Come right in! Primmie, open those stove dampers. +Put the kettle on front where it will boil quick.... No, Mr. Bangs, you +mustn't tell me a word until you're warm and rested. You would like to +go to your room, wouldn't you? Certainly you would. Primmie will bring +you hot water as soon as it's ready. No, don't try to tell me a word +until after you are rested and washed up.” + +It was a welcome suggestion, not because Galusha was so eager to “wash +up,” but because he was eager, very eager, to be alone where no one +could ask more embarrassing questions. Yet the last thing he saw as he +closed his room door was the expression upon Miss Phipps' face. Hope, +relief, happiness! And what he had to tell would change them all. + +Oh, if he had not been so foolishly optimistic! What should he say? If +he told the exact truth--the whole truth-- + +But there, what was the whole truth? After all, he did not KNOW that +nothing would come of his letter to Cousin Gussie. Something might +come of it. Yes, even something very good might come. If Cousin Gussie +himself never saw the letter, Thomas, the secretary, would see it and +very likely he would write encouragingly. He might--it was quite +likely that he would--give the names of other Boston financiers to whom +Wellmouth Development might be of interest. In this case, or even +the probability of such a case, he, Galusha, would certainly not be +justified in making his story too discouraging. + +When, at last, he did descend to the sitting room, where Miss Phipps was +awaiting him, the tale he told her bore very little resemblance to the +hopeless, despairful narrative he had, while on the way down in the +train, considered inevitable and the telling of which he had so dreaded. +In fact, when it was finished Martha's expression had changed but +little. She still looked happy. + +She drew a long breath. “Well!” she exclaimed, “I can hardly believe it; +it seems almost too good to believe. And so that secretary man told you +that he felt sure that your cousin, or his other secretary--how many +secretaries does one man have to have, for mercy sakes?--would attend to +the Development thing and it would be all right if we would just wait a +little longer? Was that it?” + +Galusha, who, in his intense desire not to be discouraging, had not +until now realized how far he had gone in the other direction, blinked +and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. + +“That was it, wasn't it?” repeated Martha. + +“Why--why--ah--yes, about that, as--ah--one might say. Yes.” + +It was the first lie Galusha Bangs had told for many, many years, one of +the very few he had ever told. It was a very white lie and not told with +deliberation or malice aforethought. But, as so often happens, it was +destined to be the father of a pestilential pack which were neither +white nor unintentional. + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +About the Phipps' home hung now the atmosphere of expectancy. It had so +hung for several weeks, ever since the first letter to Cousin Gussie had +been posted, but now there was in it a different quality, a quality +of brightness, of cheer. Martha seemed more like herself, the capable, +adequate self which Galusha had met when he staggered into that house +out of the rain and wind of his first October night on Cape Cod. She was +more talkative, laughed more frequently, and bustled about her work with +much, if not all, of her former energy. She, herself, was quite aware +of the change and commented upon it rather apologetically in one of her +talks with her lodger. + +“It's ridiculous,” she said, “and I know it, but I can't help it. I'm +as excited as a child and almost as sure everything is goin' to come out +right as--well, as Primmie is. I wasn't so at all in the beginnin'; when +we first sent that letter to your cousin I didn't think there was much +more than one chance in a thousand that he would take any interest in +Wellmouth Development stock. But since you got back from your Boston +cruise, Mr. Bangs, I've felt altogether different. What the Cabot, +Bancroft and Cabot folks said wasn't any too definite; when I sit right +down and think about it I realize it wasn't. But it was encouraging, +real encouraging. And that bit of real encouragement has made me over, +like an old dress. Which reminds me that I've got to be makin' over some +of MY old dresses pretty soon, or summer'll be here and I won't have +a thing fit to wear. I declare,” she added, with a laugh, “this is the +first time I've even thought about clothes since last fall. And when a +woman forgets to be interested in dressmakin' she's pretty far gone.... +Why, what makes you look so sorrowful? Is anything wrong?” + +Galusha replied that nothing whatever was wrong; there was, he said, no +reason in the world why he should appear sorrowful. Yet, this answer +was not the exact truth; there were reasons, and speeches such as Miss +Martha's reminded him of them. They awoke his uneasy conscience to the +fear that the encouragement she found in his report from Cabot, Bancroft +and Cabot was almost entirely due to his interpretation of that report +and not to the facts behind it. However, as she must on no account +guess this to be the case, he smiled and assumed an air more than ever +carefree. + +One afternoon, when, on his way home after an unusually lengthy walk, he +stopped at the post office, he found that the Phipps' mail had already +been delivered. + +“Zach Bloomer stopped along in and took it,” explained Miss Tamson +Black, the postmaster's sister-in-law. “I told him I presumed likely +you'd be here after it yourself pretty soon, but it didn't make no +difference. He said--but maybe I better not tell you.” + +“Oh, yes--no doubt,” observed Galusha, who was, as usual, paying little +attention. + +Tamson, plainly disappointed at his lack of curiosity, elevated her thin +nose. + +“Well,” she observed, “what he SAID was that, fur's things bein' here +was concerned, Christmas would be here, give it time enough. Pretty +sassy kind of talk, _I_ call it, but maybe you ain't so partic'lar, Mr. +Bangs.” + +“Dear me! Of course. Well, well!... Oh, were there any letters +for--ah--for me, may I ask?” + +“Why, yes, there was, two of 'em. That's what made me cal'late you +might like to get 'em first yourself. I knew you didn't get letters +very often, Mr. Bangs; that is, I've noticed you ain't since I've been +helpin' in this office. Anyhow, 'most anybody would rather get their own +mail private than have Zach Bloomer cartin' it from land-knows-where to +never-and-gone, smellin' it all up with old tobacco pipes and fish or +whatever else he carries 'round in his pockets. Course I don't mean he +lugs fish around in his pocket, 'tain't likely--He, he, he--but that old +coat of his always smells like a--like a porgie boat. And I don't know's +I mean that those letters of yours were any more 'special private than +common; anyhow, both envelopes was in MALE handwritin'--He, he, he! But +I noticed one was stamped from way out in--in Nevada, seems if 'twas, +so--” + +“Eh?” Galusha came to life with astonishing quickness. “From--from +Nevada, did you say?” + +“Um-hm. I remember it real plain now. You see, it kind of caught my eye +as I was sortin.' We don't never get much mail from Nevada--not in this +office we don't never hardly. So when I see... Well, my good land!” + +The exclamation was caused by the unceremonious suddenness of Mr. Bangs' +exit. He was well across the road by the time Miss Black reached the +window. + +“My good land!” exclaimed Tamson again. Later she told her +brother-in-law that she cal'lated that Nevada letter was maybe more +private than she cal'lated first, and that she bet you she was goin' to +look pretty hard at the handwritin' on the NEXT one that come. + +Primmie, apparently, had been watching through the kitchen window for +Galusha to appear. At any rate, she opened the door for him. Her +mouth opened also, but he, for perhaps the first time in their +acquaintanceship, spoke first. + +“I know--I know, Primmie,” he said, hastily; “or if I don't know you can +tell me later on. Ah--please don't delay me now.” + +Primmie was struggling between surprise and disappointment. + +“Well,” she observed, as the little man hurriedly shed his hat and coat; +“well, all right, Mr. Bangs. Only Zach, he told me to be sure and tell +you, and tell you how sorry he was that it happened, and that he can't +exactly figger out just how it did come to happen, neither.” + +“Eh?” Galusha paused, with one arm still in the sleeve of his overcoat. +“Happen? What has happened to--ah--Mr. Bloomer?” + +“Ain't nothin' happened to him. 'Twas him that made it happen to your +letter. And THAT letter of all letters! You see, Zach he don't exactly +remember when 'twas he got it from the post office, but it must have +been much as a week ago, sartin sure. Anyhow, when he took out the +lighthouse mail he left this letter in the pocket, and to-day, just now, +when he got them other letters of yours and put 'em in the same pocket, +he found the first one. And when I see that 'Cabot, What-d'ye-call-it +and Cabot' name printed out right on the envelope and it come over me +that 'twas THAT letter he'd forgot and had been totin' 'round with him, +'WELL,' says I. 'My Lord of Isrul!' I says--” + +“Primmie! Primmie, stop! Stop--please! And tell me: Where are those +letters?” + +“Hey? I was goin' to tell you. _I_ put 'em right here on the dinin' room +table, but Miss Martha she carted 'em off upstairs to your bedroom. Said +she presumed likely you'd want to open 'em by yourself. _I_ don't see +why--” + +“Hush! Hush! Where is--ah--Miss Phipps?” + +“She's in the settin' room. Told me not to disturb her, she wanted to be +alone. I--” + +Galusha hastened away, leaving the excited Miss Cash still talking. From +the foot of the stairs he caught a glimpse of Martha in the chair by the +front window of the sitting room, looking out. She must have heard him, +but she did not turn her head. Nor did he speak to her. Time enough for +that when he had read what was in those letters. + +There they were, three of them, upon his bureau. He picked up the one +on top. It bore upon the envelope the words “National Institute, +Washington, D. C.,” and was, he knew, merely a monthly report. Usually +such reports were of great interest to him; this one was not. He had +really important matters to claim his attention. + +The second letter was, obviously, that which the forgetful Zacheus had +carried about with him for a week. In the corner was the Cabot, Bancroft +and Cabot name. He tore it open. An oblong slip of paper fell to the +floor. He did not even stoop to pick this up, for there was a letter, +too. It began: + + +“Prof. Galusha Bangs, East Wellmouth, Mass. + +“DEAR SIR: + +“Pursuant to your instructions in our conversation of recent date I am +enclosing check representing your share of the new Tinplate re-issue, +sale of rights, transfer of old stock, bonus, etc. The transfer has +been, as I told you I felt sure it would be, very advantageous and +profitable to stockholders like yourself. The amount due you, as shown +in statement attached, is--” + + +Galusha read no further. What did he care for Tinplate, profits, +business, or anything like that! There was not a word in the letter +concerning Wellmouth Development. It was a bitter disappointment. + +But there was the third letter, the letter from Nevada. He opened that. +The first page which he looked at was that bearing the signature. Yes, +the letter was from George L. Thomas, and George L. Thomas was Cousin +Gussie's private secretary. At last! + +The letter shook in Galusha's fingers as he began to read. Mr. Thomas +was glad to hear from him, glad to learn that he was in better health, +etc.... All right enough, this beginning, but not at all important. +Thomas also felt sure that he, Professor Bangs, would be grateful to +know that Mr. Cabot's condition was, so his physician seemed to think, +steadily improving. The improvement was slow, of course, which was to +be expected, but... a long paragraph here which Galusha skipped. He was +highly pleased to know that Cousin Gussie was better, but at present +that was sufficient; he could not waste time in reading details of the +convalescence. WHY didn't the man get down to business? + +Ah, here it was! Mr. Thomas wrote: + + +“In your letter to Mr. Cabot I note your inquiry concerning the stock +of the Wellmouth Development Company, its desirability as an investment, +the likelihood of present sale, and so on. I know nothing of the matter +personally, and am not in a position to ascertain at the present time. +Speaking in a general way, however, and with my only knowledge of the +facts in the case that supplied by your letter, I should suggest that +your friend keep his stock and await developments. I am quite sure that +a forced sale--if such a sale could now be made at any price, which I +doubt--would involve the sacrifice of almost the entire amount invested. +I should suggest holding on and waiting.” + + +Galusha passed his shaking hand across his perspiring forehead. + +“Oh, dear me!” he said aloud. + + +“This would be my advice,” went on the letter, “but if you wish a more +positive answer I suggest your writing Mr. Minor at our Boston office. +He will be very glad to look into the matter for you, I am sure, +although I am practically certain his views will agree with mine. Of +course, as you will understand, it is quite impossible to mention your +inquiry to Mr. Cabot. He is here to regain his health, which is still +very far from normal, his doctor is with him, and the one word which is +positively forbidden is 'Business.' Mr. Cabot is supposed to forget that +there is such a thing. By the way he spoke of you only the other day, +and jokingly said he wondered how mummies and quahaugs were mixing. +The fact that he is beginning to joke once more we all consider most +encouraging....” + + +A paragraph or two more of this sort of thing and then Mr. Thomas' +signature. Galusha stared at the letter dully. This--this was what +he and Martha Phipps had awaited so long! This was the outcome of his +brilliant idea which was to save the Phipps' home... and its owner's +peace of mind... and Primmie... and .... + +Oh, dear me! dear me! + +Galusha walked slowly across the room to the chair by the window, and, +sitting down, continued to stare hopelessly at the letter in his hand. +He read it for the second time, but this rereading brought no comfort +whatever. Rather, it served to bring home to him the hard realities +of the whole wretched affair. Cousin Gussie's interest was what he had +banked on, and that interest was absolutely unapproachable. To write +Minor at the Boston office was a possibility, of course, but, in his +present frame of mind Galusha felt no hope that such a proceeding would +help. Thomas had written what amounted to that very thing; Thomas was +“practically certain” that Minor's views would agree with his. And, +besides, to write Minor meant another long wait, and Martha Phipps must +be very close to her limit of waiting. How could he summon the courage +to descend to the sitting room and tell her that she must prepare for +another period of waiting, with almost certain disappointment at the +end? + +A temperament like Galusha Bangs' is capable of soaring to the heights +and descending to the depths. Just now the elevator was going down, +and down it continued to go to the very subcellar. It was dark in that +subcellar, not a ray of light anywhere. Galusha realized now, or thought +he did, that all his great scheme for helping Martha to dispose of her +Development shares had been based upon nothing substantial, nothing but +rainbow-tinted hopes which, in turn, were based upon nothing but wishes. +Omitting the hopes and wishes, what was there left? Just what the +president of the Trumet Trust Company had told Martha and what Raish +Pulcifer, when angered into truthtelling, had told him. That is, that +the shares of the Wellmouth Development Company might be worth something +some day, but that now they were worth nothing, because no one would buy +them. + +Yes... yes, that was the truth.... But how could he go down to the +sitting room and tell Martha Phipps that truth, having already told her +so much that was quite different? + +If she would only let him lend her the five thousand dollars, or +whatever it was. He did not know how much Cousin Gussie was taking care +of for him at present, but there had been a large sum at the time +of Aunt Clarissa's death. He remembered that the figures had quite +frightened him then. He had not thought much about them since, because +they did not interest him. He always had enough for his needs and more +than enough, and dividends, and interests, and investments and all such +things bored him and made him nervous. But, now that he WAS interested +in an investment--Martha Phipps' investment--it brought home to him the +undisputable fact that he, Galusha Bangs, had plenty of money to lend, +if he wished to lend it. + +And if Cousin Gussie, or Cousin Gussie's representatives, would let him +have it for such a purpose! Cousin Gussie always made such an unpleasant +disturbance when he expressed a desire for any of his money, asked so +many embarrassing questions as to what was to be done with it, and the +like. If he should go now and ask for five thousand dollars to lend +Martha Phipps, what... + +But Martha Phipps would not accept a loan, anyway. She had told him that +very thing, and he knew her well enough by this time to know she meant +what she said. + +Yet there remained the imminent and dreadful question: How, how, HOW +could he go down to where she was sitting waiting and tell her that her +hopes, hopes which he had raised, were based solely upon the vaporings +of an optimistic donkey? + +In his wrathful disgust with that donkey he shifted angrily in his chair +and his foot struck a bit of paper upon the floor. It rustled and the +rustle attracted his attention. Absently he stepped and picked up the +paper. It was the slip which had fallen from the Cabot, Bancroft and +Cabot letter and was a check drawn to his order for fourteen thousand, +three hundred and ten dollars and thirty-eight cents, his share of the +Tinplate “melon.” + +Fifteen more minutes passed before Mr. Bangs came down to the sitting +room, but when he did he came in a great hurry. He dashed into the +apartment and announced his intention of starting for Boston at once. + +“And--and if you will be so kind as to let me have those--ah--shares of +yours, Miss Martha,” he said. + +Martha looked at him. She had been rather pale when he entered, but now +the color rushed to her face. + +“Shares?” she repeated. “Do you mean--” + +“Those--ah--Development shares of yours--yes. If you will be good enough +to let me take them with me--” + +“Take them with you?... Oh, Mr. Bangs, you don't mean you have heard +from your cousin and that he is goin' to--” + +“Yes--ah--yes,” broke in Galusha, hastily. “I have heard. I am to--that +is, I must take the shares with me and go to Boston at once. If you will +be willing to entrust them to me, Miss Martha.” + +“I'll get 'em this minute.” She started toward the stairs, but paused +and turned. + +“Is it really settled, Mr. Bangs?” she asked, as if scarcely daring to +believe in the possibility. “Are they really goin' to buy that Wellmouth +stock of mine?” + +“Why--why--” Galusha was yawing badly, but he clutched the helm and kept +on the course; “I--ah--hope so, Miss Martha, I hope so.” + +“And pay me--pay me MONEY for it?” + +“I presume so. I hope so. If you will--” + +“I declare, it doesn't seem possible! Who, for mercy sakes, is goin' to +buy it? Mr. Cabot, himself?” + +He had been expecting this and was prepared for it. He had rehearsed +his answer many times before coming downstairs. He held up a protesting +hand. + +“I am very sorry,” he said, “but--but, you see, that is a--ah--secret, +I understand. Of course, they did not write me who was to buy the stock +and so--and so--” + +“And so you don't know. Well, it doesn't make a bit of difference, +really. The Lord knows I shouldn't care so long as I sell it honestly +and don't cheat anybody. And a big house like Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot +ought to know what they're doin' when they buy, or let any of their +customers buy. I'll get the certificate this very minute, Mr. Bangs.” + +She hastened up the stairs. Galusha wiped his forehead and breathed +heavily. There was a knock on the door leading to the dining room; it +opened and Primmie's head appeared. + +“I heard her go upstairs,” she whispered, hoarsely. “Is it all right, +Mr. Bangs? Was there good news in that What-you-call-it-Bancroft letter, +Mr. Bangs? Was there?” + +“Go away, Primmie! Go AWAY!” + +“I'm a-goin'. But was there?” + +“Yes--ah--no--I--I guess so.” + +“Lord everlastin' of Isrul! My savin' soul!” + +Martha's footsteps on the stairs caused the head to disappear and the +door to close. Miss Phipps appeared, her hand clasping a highly ornate +document. + +“Here's the certificate,” she said, breathlessly. “I'm so upset and +excited I don't know hardly whether I'm in the channel or hard aground, +as father used to say, but I've signed my name on the back. Once when I +sold two shares of railroad stock he left me I had to sign on the back +there. I HOPE I've done it in the right place.” + +Galusha declared the signature to be quite right, yes. As a matter of +fact, he could not have told for certain that there was a signature +there. He crammed the certificate into his pocket. + +“Oh, my sakes!” protested Martha, “you aren't goin' to just put it loose +into that pocket, are you? Don't you think it ought to go in your--your +wallet, or somewhere?” + +“Eh? Why--why, I presume it had.... Dear me, yes.... It would be a--a +joke if I lost it, wouldn't it?” + +“A JOKE! Well, it wouldn't be my notion of a joke, exactly.” + +“Oh, dear, dear! Did I say 'joke'? I didn't mean that it would actually +be--ah--humorous, of course. I meant... I meant.... Really, I don't +think I know what I meant.” + +“I don't believe you do. Mr. Bangs, I truly think you are more excited +about all this than I am, and all on my account. What can I ever say--or +do--to--” + +“Please, please, Miss Martha! Dear me, dear me, DON'T speak in that +way. It's so--ah--nonsensical, you know. Now if--if I may have my coat +and--ah--cap--” + +“Cap! Goodness gracious, you weren't plannin' to wear that old cap, +earlaps and all, to Boston, were you? And--mercy me! I didn't think of +it until this minute--the train doesn't go for 'most two hours.” + +She burst out laughing and, because she was overwrought and a trifle +hysterical, she laughed a good deal. Galusha laughed even longer than +she did, not because he was hysterical, but because laughing was very +much easier and safer than answering embarrassing questions. + +When it really was time to leave for the railroad station and Galusha, +NOT wearing the earlapped cap, but hatted and garbed as became his rank +and dignity, was standing on the stone step by the outside door, she +said: + +“Now do be careful, Mr. Bangs.” + +“Yes--yes, I will, I promise you. I shall keep one hand in my pocket, +holding the pocketbook with the certificate in it, until I get to the +office. I shall think of nothing else.” + +“Mercy me, think of SOMETHIN' else, please! Think of yourself when +you're goin' across those Boston streets or you'll be run over. I +declare, I don't know as I ought to let you go.” + +“Oh, I shall be quite safe, quite. But, really,” he added, with a +puzzled smile, “I can't tell you how odd this seems. When I was a boy my +Aunt Clarissa, I remember, used to caution me about--about crossing the +streets, and so on. It makes me feel quite young again to have you do +it, Miss Martha. I assure you it does.” + +Martha regarded him gravely. + +“Hasn't anybody since ever told you to be careful?” she asked; “anybody +since your aunt died, I mean?” + +“Why, no, I think not. I presume,” he added, with the air of one +suggesting a happy explanation, “I presume no one has--ah--been +sufficiently interested. It would have been peculiar if they had been, +of course.” + +“Hum!... Well, I hope you won't think I am impudent for remindin' you to +look out.” + +“Oh, no, indeed. It is very nice of you to take the trouble. I like it, +really I do.” + +The office of Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot was closed when his train +reached Boston, so he went to a hotel and remained there over-night. +But he was on hand at the banking office early the next morning. In the +interval he had time for more reflection and, as a result, he determined +not to go to Mr. Barbour with his business. The fear that knowledge of +what he was about to do would reach Cousin Gussie's ears was strong upon +him. Doubtless it was a fact that he had a right to do what he pleased +with his own money, but it was also a fact that Cousin Gussie seemed +to think he had no such right. Barbour was the Cabot secretary, or +assistant secretary, so decidedly it was best not to go to Barbour. + +It was Minor whom he saw as he entered the banking house and to Minor he +divulged his business. Taking from his pocketbook the Tinplate check, he +asked if he might have it--ah--broken up, so to speak. + +“You see,” he explained, “I want to get--ah--five thousand dollars.” + +Minor appeared rather puzzled at first, and Mr. Bangs' tangled and +nervous explanations did not seem to enlighten him greatly. At last, +however, he caught the idea. + +“I see,” he said. “You don't want to deposit and draw against it; you +want two checks instead of one. One check for five thousand and the +other for the balance.” + +“Yes, yes, yes,” assented Galusha, much relieved. “That is it, exactly. +I am very much obliged to you--indeed I am--yes.” + +Minor took him to one of the windows and introduced him to the clerk at +the desk behind it. + +“Give Mr. Bangs whatever he wants,” he said. + +Galusha explained. The clerk asked how he would have the +five-thousand-dollar check made out. + +“In your own name?” he asked. + + Mr. Bangs reflected. “Why--ah--” he stammered, “I should prefer it +in--ah--some other name, if possible. I should prefer that my name was +not connected with it, if you don't mind.” + +“In the name of the person you intend paying it to?” inquired the clerk. + +Galusha reflected again. If Martha Phipps' name were written on that +check it would be possible that, some day or other, Cousin Gussie +might see it. And if he saw it, questions would be asked, embarrassing +questions. + +“No-o,” he said, hesitatingly; “no, I think I should not care to have +her--that is, to have that person's name appear, either. Isn't +there some way by which the sum could be paid without any one's name +appearing? A check to--to--oh, dear me! why CAN'T I think of it?” + +“To bearer, you mean?” + +“That's it, that's it. A check to bearer would be very satisfactory, +very satisfactory, indeed. Thank you very much.” + +The clerk, who was a painstaking young man, destined to rise in his +profession, inspected the odd individual outside the railing. + +“A check to bearer is almost the same as cash,” he said. “If you should +lose it, it would be negotiable--practically the money itself, or pretty +near it.” + +Galusha started. He looked radiantly happy. + +“That's it!” he exclaimed. “That's it, of course. Thank you for +the suggestion. The money will be the very thing. It will be such a +delightful surprise. And there will be no one's name upon it at all. I +will take the money, of course.” + +It took some time to convince the astonished clerk that Mr. Bangs +actually wished five thousand dollars in currency, but he finally was +convinced. + +“How will you have it?” he asked. “Small bills or large?” + +Galusha apparently did not care. Any denominations would be quite +satisfactory, he affirmed. So, when the transaction was finished, and he +left the Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot office, it was with a new check for +nine thousand, three hundred and ten dollars and thirty-eight cents in +his pocketbook and in his trousers' pocket a roll of bills as thick as +his wrist. By way of modification to this statement, it may be well to +explain that Galusha Bangs' wrists, considered AS wrists, were by no +means thick. + +The clerk stared after him as he departed and a fellow clerk paused to +ask questions. + +“Who was the old guy?” he inquired. + +“Name's Bangs.” + +“What is he?” + +“A nut,” was the reply, given with the assurance of absolute conviction. + +The “nut” traveled back to East Wellmouth upon the afternoon train +and, back once more in the Phipps' sitting room, “shelled out” upon the +center table. Martha stared at the heap of bills and caught her breath +with a gasp. + +Galusha deposited the last bank note upon the table. “There!” he +exclaimed, with satisfaction; “that is all, I believe. And I have +actually gotten it here--all of it. I am quite sure I haven't lost a--a +penny. Dear me, that is a very remarkable thing to do--for me to do, I +mean.” + +Miss Phipps did not answer and, turning, he saw that she was sitting in +the rocking-chair, her hand to her forehead. Her face was white. + +“Dear me!” he exclaimed, in alarm. “Miss Martha, are you ill?” + +Still she did not answer and, very much frightened, he hastened to the +door, opened it, and shouted for Primmie. The summons for her handmaiden +acted as a complete restorative. Martha came to life at once. + +“WHAT in the world are you callin' Primmie for?” she demanded. “I don't +want her. I wouldn't have her see all that.... Oh, good heavens and +earth!” + +Primmie was already in the room. She, as Mr. Bangs would have described +it, bounced in. + +“Yes'm--I mean yes, sir,” was her salutation. “Here I be.... Oh, my +savin' soul of Isrul!” + +She had seen the mound of money upon the table. Two minutes later Martha +and her lodger were again alone in the sitting room. Primmie had been, +gently but firmly, escorted to outer darkness and the door closed behind +her. She was still asking questions and calling for her ransomed spirit +and the ruler of Israel; they could hear her do so even through the +door. The exclamations died away in the direction of the kitchen. Miss +Phipps, who had done escort duty, turned toward Galusha and ruefully +shook her head. + +“I GUESS there isn't anybody I'd rather should not have been here just +now than Primmie Cash,” she observed. “If there is I can't think of +their names. Mr. Bangs, I know you meant well, because you couldn't mean +any other way, but would you mind tellin' me WHY you called for her?” + +Galusha blinked in bewildered fashion behind his spectacles. + +“Why--why,” he stammered, “you--you see--why, I spoke to you several +times and you did not answer--and you were so pale, I thought--I +thought--” + +“You thought I was sick and so you sung out for Primmie. Humph! that's a +good deal like jumpin' into the well to get out of the rain. But there, +never mind. So I looked pale and didn't answer when you spoke? Do +you wonder? Mr. Bangs,” she moved to the table and laid a hand, which +trembled a good deal, upon the pile of bills, “is this money really +mine?” + +“Yes--oh, yes, indeed. It is yours, of course.” + +“All of it? It doesn't seem possible. How much is there here?” + +He told her. She lifted the topmost bills from the heap and reverently +laid them down again. + +“Five thousand dollars!” she repeated. “It's like--it's like somethin' +in a dream, or a book, isn't it? I can hardly believe I am Martha +Phipps. So they did think Wellmouth Development was worth somethin', +after all. And they paid--why, Mr. Bangs, they paid the full price, +didn't they! Twenty dollars a share; as much as father paid in the first +place.” + +“Yes--ah--yes, of course. Yes, indeed. Are you sure you feel quite well +again, Miss Martha?” + +“I'm sure. But what did they say when they bought it, Mr. Bangs?” + +“Say? Ah, say?... Why, they said--ah--um--they said there was the money +and--and I counted it, you know, and--” + +“Yes, yes. But didn't they say anything about the stock; about why they +bought it, and like that?” + +“Why, no... no, I think nothing was--ah--so to speak--ah--said. +They--ah--Won't you sit down again, Miss Martha? I think you had +better.” + +“Sit down! Mr. Bangs, I'm too excited to sit down. I could fly, I think, +a good deal easier than I could sit; at least, I feel as if I could. +And so they just bought that stock and said nothing more than that? Just +bought it?” + +“Yes--ah--yes, that's it. They--ah--bought it, you know.” + +“It seems strange. What did your cousin say?” + +“Ah--my cousin? Cousin Gussie, you mean. Yes, yes, of course. Oh, he +said--ah--all sorts of things.” + +“Did he? About the stock?” + +“Oh, no, not about the stock so much. No, not so much about that, +about... a sort of general conversation it was, about--about the +weather, and--and the like.” + +“The weather? Did he write about the weather in his letter?” + +He had for the moment forgotten that his relative was an invalid in the +Far West and that Miss Phipps knew it. He turned red, coughed, stammered +and then broke out in a series of fragmentary and involved explanations +to the effect that Cousin Gussie was--ah--naturally much interested in +the weather because of his state of health and--and--She paid little +heed, for in the midst of his explaining she interrupted. + +“Oh, never mind, never mind,” she said. “It doesn't make one bit of +difference and why I asked about it I don't know. You see, Mr. Bangs, +I'm not back on earth yet, as you might say, and I don't suppose I shall +be for a little while, so you'll have to be patient with me. All I can +think of is that now I can live here in this house, for a while longer +anyhow, and perhaps always. And I sha'n't have to turn Primmie away. +And--and maybe I won't have to lie awake night after night, plannin' how +I can do this and do without that--and--and--” + +She stopped, her sentence unfinished. Galusha said nothing. A moment +later she turned to him. + +“Should I write your cousin a letter and thank him, do you think?” she +asked. + +Galusha's reply was hurriedly given and most emphatic. “Oh, no, no,” he +protested. “It will be quite unnecessary, quite. Indeed, no. He--ah--he +would not expect it.” + +“No, I presume likely he wouldn't. And, after all, it was just a matter +of business with his firm. But it wasn't a matter of business with you, +Mr. Bangs. And if it hadn't been for you, I--I--Well, I mustn't say any +more or--or... Oh, you understand what I want to say, don't you?” + +“Now--now, Miss Martha, please. I have done nothing, really, nothing but +what any friend would have done.” + +“Any friend like you, you mean. I don't know where there are any more +such friends, Mr. Bangs.” + +“Now, PLEASE. Miss Martha, I--I HOPE you won't mention this again. It +will oblige me greatly if you will not. Really, I--I mean it.” + +She nodded, slowly. “Yes,” she said, “bein' you, I think you do mean it. +So I won't say any more; but I shall think a great deal, Mr. Bangs, and +I never shall stop thinkin'.... There! And now what shall I do with all +this money? Of course, I'll put it in the bank to-morrow, but what will +I do with it to-night? By the way,” she added, “it seems queer they +should have paid you in cash instead of a check. Why did they, I +wonder?” + +Here was a demand for more explaining. Galusha plunged headlong, +foundered, and then emerged, like a dog, with an explanation, such as it +was, between his teeth. + +“They--ah--they thought the money would be safer,” he said. + +Martha laughed aloud. “Safer?” she repeated. “Why, that's funny. Perhaps +they're right, but I know the only way I shall feel safe between now +and bankin' time tomorrow is to stay awake and watch every minute. Oh, +I sha'n't do that exactly, of course, but I'm beginnin' to realize the +responsibility of havin' riches. Ah hum! I laugh, Mr. Bangs, but you +mustn't think it's because I don't realize what you--I mean... well, I +guess I laugh because I'm kind of hysterical and--happy. I haven't been +so happy for a long, long time. I won't say it again because you don't +want me to, but for this once more, thank you, Mr. Bangs.” + +As Galusha left her to go to his room, she said: “Now I must go out and +get after Primmie again. I'm scared to death that she'll tell everybody +from here to Provincetown about my bein' worth a million dollars. She +won't make it any LESS than a million, and the chances are it will be +consider'ble more.” + +“But, Miss Martha, you have already told her not to tell about the +money. I heard you tell her just now when you sent her out of the room.” + +Martha shrugged her shoulders. + +“When you pour water into a sieve,” she said, “it doesn't do much good +to tell the sieve not to leak. Father used to say that some folks' heads +were built so that whatever was poured into their ears ran right out of +their mouths. Primmie's is made that way, I'm afraid. She'll swear she +won't tell, and she won't mean to tell, but... Well, good-night, Mr. +Bangs.” + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Miss Phipps had prophesied that the cares attending the possession of +wealth might interfere with her sleep that night. Concerning his own +slumbers Galusha made no prophecy, but the said slumbers were broken +and scanty, nevertheless. Martha's happiness, her relief, and the kind +things she had said to him, all these were pleasant to reflect upon and +to remember. Not so pleasant was the thought of the deception he had +practiced. Of course, he had deceived for a good purpose and certainly +with no idea of personal gain, quite the contrary. But he had been +deceitful--and to Martha Phipps, of all people. What would she say if +she ever found it out? He reflected upon the amazing number of--ah--fibs +he had told her, and the question what would she say if she ever learned +of these was even more terrifying in its possibilities. She must not +learn of them, she must never, never know that it was his own money +which he had brought from Boston, that he, and no one else, had bought +that stock of hers. + +Here he sat up in bed, having suddenly remembered the certificate for +two hundred and fifty shares of Wellmouth Development Company stock +which she had handed him when he started for Boston. He had folded +it lengthwise and crosswise and had put it in his pocket--and had not +thought of it since, until that moment. A cold chill ran down his back. +What if-- + +He scrambled out of bed and, the room being distinctly cool, chills +immediately ran up and down other portions of his anatomy. He did not +mind those, however, but finding the matches, lighted the lamp and +began pawing over his garments, those which he had worn upon his Boston +pilgrimage. + +The certificate was not in the coat pocket. Galusha gasped. Had he +dropped it in the train? Or in the office of Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot? +Why, if the last were true, it would be found and traced to him, and +Minor and Barbour and, eventually, Cousin Gussie would learn that he.... + +Here he remembered that Martha had urged him not to put it in his coat +pocket but in his pocketbook. Oh, joy! He delved for the pocketbook, +opened it--and found no certificate therein. + +Oh, dear, dear! Oh, dear! Suppose he had not lost it in Boston. Suppose +he had that very evening dropped it in the house here at home, in the +sitting room, or the dining room. Suppose Primmie should find it, or +Miss Phipps herself. Then she would KNOW that he had deceived her--and +lied to her-- + +And then he remembered that, instead of putting the certificate in his +pocketbook, he had found the latter too small for the purpose, and had +put the document in the inside pocket of his waistcoat. And in that +waistcoat pocket he found it. + +So that was all right, all right so far; but the fact remained that, +instead of the troublesome thing--damning evidence of his guilt and +deception--reposing safely in the vaults of a Boston bank, where he had +intended putting it, it was here, in the house, in the house of Miss +Martha Phipps, who might find it at any time. + +He tried various hiding places, the drawers of his bureau, the +table drawer, under the straw matting in the corner, but none seemed +satisfactorily secure. Under the matting was, at first thought, ideal, +but, after secreting it there and getting into bed, he remembered that +Martha had declared his room needed new matting and, if ever she +could afford that cost, new matting it should have. Having come into +possession of five thousand dollars, she might feel that she could now +afford it. He climbed, shivering, out of bed again, resurrected the +certificate and hid it under his pillow, an orthodox but safe hiding +place for that night only. The next morning he wrapped it in a summer +undergarment and placed the said garment at the bottom of a pile of +similar intimacies in his bureau drawer. And each night of the following +week, before retiring, he dug it out to make sure of its safety. + +The day after her boarder's return from Boston, Martha went over to +Wellmouth Centre. The bank there had charge of her account, such as it +was, and she wished to have it take charge of the, to her, huge sum of +real money which Mr. Bangs had brought. She told the cashier that +she was desirous of speaking with him on a matter of business, and he +invited her into his little room at the end of the counter. There she +took from her “Boston bag” a brown paper parcel and, unwrapping the +brown paper, disclosed the five thousand dollars. + +Cashiers of small town banks know the true financial strength and +weakness of dwellers in those towns, just as the doctors know their +physical ones. Mr. Edgar Thacher, which was the cashier's name in this +instance, knew how much of an estate Cap'n Jim Phipps had left his +daughter and how that estate was divided as to investments. So he was +surprised when Martha revealed the money. + +“Good land, Martha!” he exclaimed. “What's happened? Haven't gone into +the counterfeiting trade, have you?” + +Martha smilingly shook her head. “No, Edgar,” she said. “It's too late +in life for me to begin learnin' new trades, I guess. Just count that, +will you, please? I want to make sure it's all there and that I didn't +really have only half of it and dream the rest.” + +The cashier counted the money. “Five thousand, I make it,” he said. + +“That's what it ought to be. Now will you put that to my account? I +don't know how long it'll stay there--the whole of it not very long, I'm +afraid--but it will be earnin' a little interest while it does stay.” + +“Yes, sure. Well, Martha, it's none of my business, of course, but, as +long as you say you haven't been counterfeiting, I wish you would give +me your receipt for making money. Anybody that can make five thousand in +one lump these hard times is doing well.” + +Martha shook her head once more. She and the cashier were old friends. +“No receipt to give, Edgar,” she said. “I wish there was; I'd be busy +usin' it, I tell you. I just sold somethin' I owned, that's all, and got +a good deal better price than I ever expected to. In fact, I had about +given up hope of ever gettin' a cent. But there, I mustn't talk so much. +You'll deposit that to my account, won't you, Edgar? And, if you SHOULD +see your way clear to pay seven or eight per cent interest instead of +four, or whatever you do pay, don't bother to write and ask me if I'll +take it, because you'll only be wastin' your time.... Eh? Why, good +gracious, Jethro! What are you doin' over here?” + +The captain's big frame blocked the doorway of the cashier's office. He +had opened that door without knocking, because it was his habit to +open doors that way. Captain Jethro Hallett's position as keeper of +the Gould's Bluffs light was not an exalted or highly paid one, but his +influence in Wellmouth and its vicinity was considerable, nevertheless. +He was accounted a man of means, he had always been--more especially in +the years before his wife's death and the break in health which followed +it--a person of shrewd business ability and keenness in a trade, and +even now, when some of the townsfolk grinned behind his back and +told stories of his spiritualistic obsessions, they were polite and +deferential to his face. As a matter of fact, it would have been +extremely impolitic to be otherwise than deferential to him. Captain +Jeth was quite aware of his worth and expected deference. + +He was as surprised to see his neighbor as she was to see him. + +“Why, hello, Martha!” he grunted. “What fetched you here?” + +“I asked you first, Cap'n Jeth, but it doesn't make any difference. +My feet brought me as far as the corner and Ras Beebe's grocery cart +brought me the rest of the way. I had planned to come in the train, +but Ras saved me the trouble--AND the fare. He's goin' back in a few +minutes, so I've got to hurry.” + +“Humph! But what did you come here FOR?” + +“Oh, I had a little business with Edgar and the bank. Excuse me, Jethro. +Edgar...” + +She stooped and whispered to the cashier. He nodded. + +“Yes, Martha, of course,” he said. “You've got your book? All right. +Back in a minute, Cap'n.” + +He picked up the pile of money from the desk, took from Miss Phipps' +hand the pass book she handed him, and together they stepped out into +the public room. Captain Jethro, whose eyes had caught sight of the +bills, leaned forward and peered through the little grating above Mr. +Thacher's desk. He saw the cashier and Martha standing by the teller's +window. The former said something and handed the teller the bank book +and the roll of bills. A moment later the teller, having counted the +money and made an entry in the book, handed the latter back to the lady. + +“Five thousand,” he said, and his tone was not low. “There you are, Miss +Phipps. Thank you.” + +When, having escorted the lady to the door, Thacher came back to his +private office, he found the light keeper sitting in the armchair +reserved for customers and pulling thoughtfully at his beard. + +“Well, Cap'n,” said Mr. Thacher, “what can I do for you?” + +Captain Jethro crossed his legs. “I come over to cash a couple of checks +I got by mail,” he said. “Had plenty of time so I thought I'd drop in +and see you a minute.” + +“Oh, yes, yes. Glad to see you.” + +“Um-hm. Ain't so glad to see me as you was to see Martha Phipps, I +guess likely. _I_ ain't depositin' any five thousand dollars. 'Twas five +thousand she just deposited, wasn't it?” + +The cashier was rather annoyed. He did not answer at once. His visitor +repeated the question. + +“Martha just put five thousand in the bank, didn't she?” he asked. + +“Why--yes. Did she tell you she was going to?” + +“No. I heard Eldridge say five thousand when he give her back her bank +book. Five thousand is a lot of money. Where'd she get it from?” + +“I don't know, Cap'n, I'm sure. Little more spring-like out to-day, +isn't it?” + +“Um-hm. Martha been borrerin' from the bank, has she?” + +“No.” + +“Didn't know but she might have mortgaged the Phipps' place. Ain't done +that, you say?” + +“No. At least, if she has she didn't tell me of it. How are things over +at the lighthouse?” + +“All right enough. I don't hardly believe she could raise more'n three +thousand on a mortgage, anyhow.... Humph! Five thousand is a sight of +money, too.... Didn't she tell you nothin' about how she got it?” + +Thacher's annoyance increased. The ordinary caller displaying such +persistent curiosity would have been dismissed unceremoniously; but +Jethro Hallett was not to be dismissed that way. The captain owned +stock in the bank and, before his illness, his name had been seriously +considered to fill the first vacancy in its list of directors. + +“Must have told you SOMETHIN' about how she got hold of all that money,” + persisted the light keeper. “What did she say to you, anyway, Ed?” + +“She said--she said--Oh, well, she said she had sold something she owned +and had got the five thousand for it.” + +“Humph! I want to know! Sold somethin', eh? What was it she sold?” + +“She didn't say, Cap'n. All she said was that she had sold it and got +the five thousand. Oh, yes, she did say that it was a bigger price +than she ever expected to get and that there was a time when she never +expected to get a cent.” + +“Humph! I want to know! Funny she should sell anything without comin' +to me first. She generally comes to ask my advice about such things.... +Humph!... She didn't sell the house? No, I'd a-known if she had done +that. And what else.... Humph!...” + +He pulled at his beard in silence for a moment. The teller, a brisk +young man, possessed of a profound love of mischief and a corresponding +lack of reverence, entered the office. + +“Oh, excuse me,” he said. “I thought you was alone, Mr. Thacher.” Then, +with a wink at his superior over the light keeper's tousled gray head, +he observed, “Well, Cap'n Jeth, what's this I hear about Marietta Hoag? +They tell me she's left the Spiritualists and gone over to Holiness +chapel. Is it so?” + +Jethro came out of his reverie. His deep-set eyes flashed and his big +fist pounded the office table. No, it was not so. It was a lie. Who +said it? Who was responsible for starting such sacrilegious, outrageous +yarns? Marietta Hoag was a woman called and chosen to receive and +give out revelations from on high. The Holiness crowd was a crew of +good-for-nothin', hollerin' hard-shells. By the everlastin'-- + +He blew out of the office and out of the bank, rumbling and spitting +fire like a volcano. The teller and the cashier watched him go. Then the +former said: + +“That's the way to get rid of him, Mr. Thacher. He'll set 'round and +talk you to death if you give him half a chance. When you want him to +go, tell him somebody at the other end of the town has been running +down the Spiritualists. He'll be so anxious to get there and heave 'em +overboard that he'll forget to stop and finish what he was saying here.” + +Which may or may not have been true, but the fact remains that the light +keeper did not entirely forget what he and the cashier said concerning +Martha Phipps' surprising bank deposit. And the next morning, as Martha +was walking up the lane from the village, where she had been on a +supply-purchasing excursion, she heard heavy footsteps and, turning, +saw her neighbor tramping toward her, his massive figure rolling, as it +always did when in motion, from side to side like a ship in a seaway. + +“Why, hello, Jethro!” she exclaimed. Captain Jethro merely nodded. His +first remark was a question, and very much to the point. + +“Look here, Martha,” he demanded. “Have you sold that Development stock +of yours?” + +Martha stared at him. For a moment she was inclined to believe in the +truth of the light keeper's “spirit revelations.” + +“Why--why, Jethro!” she gasped. The captain, gazing at her keenly +beneath his shaggy brows, seemed to find his answer in her face. + +“Humph!” he observed. “You have sold it, ain't you? Well, by the +everlastin'!” + +“Why--why, Jethro! What are you talkin' about?” + +“About that two hundred and fifty shares of Wellmouth Development of +yours. You've sold it, ain't you, Martha? And you must have got par for +it, too. Did the Trumet Trust Company folks buy it?” + +But Miss Phipps was recovering from her surprise. She waited a moment +before replying and, when she did reply, her tone was as crisp, if not +as domineering, as her interrogator's. + +“See here, Jethro,” she said; “you're takin' a good many things for +granted, aren't you?” + +“No, I don't cal'late I am. I know you've sold somethin' and got five +thousand dollars for it. I see you deposit the five thousand, myself, +and Ed Thacher told me, after I pumped it out of him, that you said +you'd sold somethin' you owned and got a good price when you didn't know +as you'd ever get a cent. Now, you ain't sold your place because I'd +know if you had, and it ain't worth five thousand, anyway. The other +stocks and bonds you've got ain't--” + +But Martha interrupted. + +“Jethro,” she said, sharply, “I just said that you were takin' a good +many things for granted. You are. One of 'em is that you can talk to +me as if I was Zach Bloomer or a fo'masthand on your old schooner. I'm +neither of those and I don't care to be talked to in that way. Another +is that what I chose to do with my property is your business. It isn't, +it's mine. I may have sold that stock or any other, or the house or the +barn or the cat, as far as that goes, but if I have or haven't it is +my affair. And I think you'd better understand that before we talk any +more.” + +She turned and walked on again. Captain Jethro's eyes flashed. It had +been some time since any one had addressed him in that manner. However, +women were women and business was business, and the captain was just +then too intent upon the latter to permit the whims of the former to +interfere. He swallowed his temper and strode after his neighbor. + +“Martha,” he said, complainingly, “I don't see as you've got any call to +talk to me that way. I've been a pretty good friend to you, seems to me, +and I was your father's friend, his chum, as you might say. Seems as if +I had--well, a right to be interested in--in what you do.” + +Martha paused. After all, there was truth in what he said. He had been +her father's close friend, and, no doubt, he meant to be hers. And he +was Lulie's father, and not well, not quite his old self mentally or +physically. Perhaps she should make allowances. + +“Well, all right, Cap'n Jeth,” she said. “It wasn't what you said so +much as it was how you said it. Now will you tell me why you're so +dreadfully anxious to know how I got that five thousand dollars I +deposited over to the bank yesterday?” + +The light keeper pulled at his beard; the latter was so thick as to +make a handful, even for one of his hands. “Well,” he said, somewhat +apologetically, “you see, Martha, it's like this: IF you sold them +Development shares of yours--and I swan I can't think of anything else +you own that would sell for just that money--IF you sold 'em, I say, I'd +like to know how you done it. I've got four hundred shares of that stock +I'd like to sell fust-rate--fust-rate I would.” + +She had not entirely forgiven him for his intrusion in her affairs and +his manner of the moment before. She could not resist giving him a dig. + +“Cap'n Jeth,” she said, “I don't see why you need to worry. I've heard +you say a good many times that you had promises from--well, from the +spirits that you were goin' to sell your Development stock and at +a profit. All you had to do, you said, was wait. Now, you see, _I_ +couldn't wait.” + +The captain nodded in satisfaction. “So 'TWAS the Development you sold,” + he growled. “I figgered out it couldn't be nothin' else.” + +Martha scarcely knew whether to frown or laugh. Some of her pity +concerning the old man's mental state had been, obviously, unnecessary. +He was still sharp enough in business matters. + +“Well,” she said, with both laugh and frown, “suppose it was, what of +it?” + +“Why, just this, Martha: If there's anything goin' on on the inside of +the Development Company I want to know it.” + +“There isn't anything goin' on so far as I know.” + +“Then who bought your stock? The Denboro Trust Company folks?” + +“No. They don't know a thing about it.” + +“'Twan't that blasted Pulcifer?” + +“No. I should hope not. Now don't ask any more, because I sha'n't tell +you. It's a secret, that's all, and it's got to stay that way.” + +He looked at her. She returned his look and nodded. She meant what she +said and he reluctantly recognized the fact. + +“Humph! Well, all right, Martha,” he growled. “But--but will you do this +much for me? Will you ask these folks--whoever 'twas bought your two +hundred and fifty--if they don't want my four hundred? If they're really +buyin', I shouldn't be surprised if they would want it. If they bought +it just as a favor to you, and are goin' to hang on and wait--why--why +then, maybe they'd do a favor to a friend of yours and your father's +afore you. Maybe they will, you can't tell. And you can tell 'em I've +had word from--from over yonder that it's all goin' to turn out right. +You ask 'em if they don't want to buy my stock, will you, Martha?” + +Martha took time for reflection. Then she said: “Cap'n Jeth, if I do ask +'em that, will you promise not to tell a soul a word about my sellin' +my stock, or about the money, or anything of the kind? Will you promise +that?” + +The light keeper nodded. “Sartin sure,” he said. “I'll promise you, +Martha.” + +“All right, I'll ask, but you mustn't count on anything comin' from it.” + +The captain's brows drew together. “What I count on,” he said, solemnly, +“is a higher promise than yours or mine, Martha Phipps. What we do down +here will only be what them up aloft want us to do. Don't you forget +that.” + +They parted at the Phipps' gate. Captain Jethro walked moodily home. +Lulie met him at the door. She was wearing her hat and coat. + +“I'm going up to the village, father,” she said. “I have some errands to +do. I'll be back pretty soon.” + +Her father watched her as she walked away. The thought crossed his mind +that possibly Nelson Howard might be visiting the village that forenoon. +He called her name, and she turned and came back. + +“What is it, father?” she asked. + +Jethro hesitated. He passed a hand across his forehead. His head felt +tired. Somehow he didn't want to talk any more. Even as important a +topic as Nelson Howard did not arouse his interest. + +“Oh, nothin', nothin',” he assured. “Cal'late maybe I'll lay down and +turn in a little spell afore dinner. Is Zach on deck?” + +“Yes, he is out in the kitchen, or was a minute ago. Primmie was over +on an errand and I heard their tongues going. Shall I speak to Zach, +father?” + +He told her no, and went into the house. There was a couch in the dining +room and he stretched himself upon it. The head of the couch was near +the door leading to the kitchen. That door was closed, but from behind +it sounded voices, voices which were audible and distinct. A dispute +seemed to be in progress between Mr. Bloomer and Miss Cash and, although +Zacheus continued to grumble on in an even key, Primmie's tone became +higher and shriller with each retort. + +“I tell you 'tis so, Zach Bloomer.... Well, maybe 'twan't a hundred and +fifty thousand, but I bet you 'twas more money than you ever see in YOUR +life. So now!” + +The assistant light keeper was heard to cough. Primmie seemed to discern +a hint of skepticism even in the cough. + +“Oh, you can set there and keep on turnin' up your nose and--and +coughin',” she declared, “but--” + +Zacheus interrupted to say that he hardly ever turned up his nose when +he coughed. + +“Seems to come handier to turn it down, Posy,” he said. + +“Oh, be still, foolish! Well, anyhow, it's true, every word of it. I see +more money at one time and in one--er--er junk, as you might say, than +ever I see afore--yes, or I bet you ever see neither, Zach Bloomer.” + +“We-ll, course what I ever see never amounted to much, but if it's more +than YOU see, Rosebud, then it must have been consider'ble of a lot. +Over in them Mashpaug woods, where you hail from, money kind of grows +on the bushes, like huckleberries, I presume likely. Martha Phipps been +over there berryin', has she?” + +“No, she ain't. Besides, I never said Miss Martha brought the money into +the house. All's I said was that 'twas in there and I see it with my own +eyes.” + +“Sho! With your own eyes, eh? Well, well! What do you cal'late 'twould +have looked like if you'd borrered somebody else's eyes? Say, Posy, +was it you fetched the billion and a half, or whatever 'twas, into the +house?” + +“Me? ME with all that money? My savin' soul!” + +“Well, who did fetch it? Santy Claus?” + +“I sha'n't tell you. I promised Miss Martha I wouldn't tell one word +about that money and I ain't goin' to.” + +“Hooray, Posy! That's the way to talk! Well, now, be honest about it: +What did you have for supper night afore last? Mince pie, was it? Why +didn't you eat another slice? Then you'd have dreamed about a mackerel +keg full of di'monds, most likely.” + +Captain Jethro, trying to fall asleep on the couch in the dining room, +turned over in disgust and raised himself upon an elbow preparatory +to shouting an order for silence. But Primmie's next speech caught his +attention and the order was not given. + +“Dreamed!” retorted the indignant young woman. “Are you tryin' to tell +me I only dreamed about that money, Zacheus Bloomer? Huh! My Lord of +Isrul! If you'd seen that great big piled-up heap of bills layin' right +there on the table in our settin' room where Mr. Bangs put 'em, I guess +you'd have said 'dreams' and more, too. Ten dollar bills there was and +twenties and--and thirties and forties, for all I know.” + +“That so? Right where Mr. Bangs put 'em, eh? Now I KNOW you was +dreamin', Pansy Blossom. That little dried-up Bangs man ain't worth +more'n ten cents, if that.” + +“He ain't? How do you know he ain't?” + +“Same as I know when that Lucy Larcom tomcat of Martha's has been in a +fight, by the looks of him. Look at the Bangs man's clothes, and--and +his hat--and--why, Godfreys mighty, he can't afford to get his hair cut +oftener than once in three months! Anyhow, he don't. And you stand there +and tell me he come cruisin' in t'other night and commenced sheddin' +million dollar bills all over the furniture. Where'd he get 'em to? Dig +'em up over in the Baptist graveyard?” + +“No, he never. He got 'em up to Boston. Leastways, I guess he did, +'cause that's where he went. And, besides, what do you know about how +much he's worth? He may look kind of--of ratty, but all the same he's +got rich relations. Why, one of his relations is head of the biggest +broke--I mean, brokin' and bank place there is in Boston. Cabot, +Bancroft and--and Thingumbob is the name of it. And Miss Martha told me +'twas--” + +There was much more of this and the listener on the dining room couch +heard it all. He remained on that couch until Miss Cash, at the back +door of the kitchen, delivered her triumphant farewell. + +“So there now, Zach Bloomer,” she said, “I guess you believe now I +didn't dream it. And you needn't ask any more questions because I +sha'n't tell you a single word. I promised Miss Martha I wouldn't never +tell and I'm goin' to keep my promise.” + +That evening Martha approached her lodger on the subject of the +possibility of selling the light keeper's Development holdings for +him. To say the least, she received no encouragement. Galusha was quite +emphatic in his expression of disbelief in that possibility. + +“Oh, dear me, no, Miss Martha,” he stammered. “I--ah--I feel quite +sure it would be unwise to--ah--attempt such a thing. You see--ah--you +see--my cousin is--is--” + +“I know, he's sick, poor man, and shouldn't be disturbed. You're right, +of course, Mr. Bangs. It was only that Cap'n Jeth had always been a good +friend of father's and mine and I thought if Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot +really were buyin' the stock perhaps they might like to buy his. But I +can see why you wouldn't want to trouble Mr. Cabot again just now. I'm +sorry I mentioned it to you; I'm afraid I have made you nervous.” + +Galusha was nervous, certainly, and showed it. He protested, however, +that he was quite all right really, and, as his landlady did not mention +the subject again, he recovered a portion of his equilibrium. And during +the following week he gradually gained more and more confidence. The +telltale certificate hidden in his bureau drawer was, of course, a +drawback to his peace of mind, and the recollection of his recent +outbreak of prevarication and deception was always a weight upon his +conscience. But, to offset these, there was a changed air about the +Phipps' home and its inmates which was so very gratifying that, if it +did not deaden that conscience, it, at least, administered to it an +effective dose of soothing syrup. + +Primmie wept no more into the dishwater nor sighed despairingly when +serving breakfast. She sang now and, although an unprejudiced person +might not have found the change an unmixed delight, Galusha did. Miss +Phipps sang, too, occasionally, not with the camp-meeting exuberance of +her maid, but with the cheery hum of the busy bee. She was happy; she +said so and looked so, and, in spite of his guilty knowledge of the +deceit upon which that happiness was founded, her lodger was happy +because she was. + +“Do you know,” he observed, on Saturday morning of that week, as, coated +and capped for his daily walk, he stood by the door of the dining room, +“it's quite extraordinary, really. I have been thinking, you know, and +it really is quite extraordinary.” + +Martha was sitting in the rocker by the window, the morning sunshine +streaming in through the leaves and blossoms of the potted plants on the +brackets dappling her hair and cheek with cheery splashes of light and +shade. She was consulting the pages of her cookbook, as a preliminary to +preparing a special dessert for Sunday's dinner, and was humming as she +did so. + +She looked up when he spoke. + +“What is extraordinary?” she asked. “Your thinkin', do you mean? I don't +see anything very extraordinary about that. You're thinkin' most of the +time, seems to me.” + +“Oh, I don't mean that. I meant what I was thinking was extraordinary. +Or not precisely that, either. I--ah--I mean--well, you see, when I +was in Washington--at the Institute, you know--it used to annoy +me--ah--extremely, to have any one sing or whistle in my vicinity. +Really, it did. I sometimes spoke very sharply--ah--irritably to any +one who did that. And now, as I stood here and heard you singing, +Miss Martha, it suddenly came over me that I do not mind it at all. +I--ah--actually like to hear you. I do, very much, indeed. Now, isn't +that extraordinary!” + +Martha laughed aloud. “Why, yes,” she declared; “I think it is. Anybody +likin' to hear me sing is about as extraordinary as anything that ever +was, I guess. Mr. Bangs, you're awfully funny.” + +Galusha nodded. “Yes,” he said, “I am sure I must be. I think if I were +any one else I should laugh at myself a great deal. I mean--ah--I mean +in that case I should laugh, not at myself, but at me. Good gracious, I +haven't made that very clear, have I?” + +His smile was so contagious that she laughed again. + +“I didn't mean you were funny to laugh at, but to laugh with,” she said. +“You're goin' to have an especially nice walk this mornin'. It's such a +lovely forenoon I almost wish I was goin' with you.” + +Galusha beamed. “Why--why, so do I!” he exclaimed, in delighted +surprise. “Yes, I do, I do, indeed! Ah--ah--why don't you?” + +“Mercy me, I couldn't think of it! I must stay here and get to cookin' +or we'll have no puddin' to-morrow noon. I'll be with you in spirit, as +the books say; how will that do?” + +Whether or not she was with him in spirit, she was very much in her +lodger's thoughts as he walked down the path to the gate. It was such a +beautiful forenoon, with the first promise of spring in the air, that, +instead of starting toward the village, as was his usual custom, he +turned in the other direction and strolled toward the lighthouse. The +sea view from the cliff edge should be magnificent on a morning like +this. + +But it was not of the view, or the beauty of the morning, that he +thought as he wandered slowly on. His mind, for some reason or other, +seemed to be filled with the picture of Martha Phipps as she sat in the +rocking-chair, with the background of old-fashioned plants and blossoms, +and the morning sunshine illumining her pleasant, comely face. He could +visualize every feature of that face, which fact was extremely odd, for +it had been many years since he had noticed a female face sufficiently +for that face to impress itself upon his memory. Years and years before +Galusha Bangs had been forced to the conclusion that the interest of +attractive feminity was not for him and he had accepted the inevitable +and never permitted his own interest to stray in that direction. A +few feminine faces he could, of course, recall; the face of his Aunt +Clarissa, for instance, and--dear me, yes! that of the pestiferous Mrs. +Worth Buckley, his--ah--not his “old man of the sea” exactly, but his +equally troublesome, middle-aged woman of the mountains. Mrs. Buckley +had not attracted his notice, she had seized it, served a subpoena upon +it, and his provokingly contrary memory persisted in recalling her face, +probably because he so earnestly desired to forget it. + +But he found a real pleasure in visualizing the face of Miss Martha +Phipps. Her eyes now--her eyes were--ah--um--they were blue; no, they +were gray--or a sort of gray-blue, perhaps, or even a shade of brown. +But the precise color made no real difference. It was the way they +looked at one, and--ah--smiled, so to speak. Odd, because he had never +before realized that one could--ah--smile with one's eyes. Attractive, +too, that smile of hers, the eyes and the lips in combination. A sort of +cheerful, comfortable smile--yes, and--ah--attractive--ah--inviting, +as one might say; a homelike smile; that was the word he +wanted--“homelike.” It had been a long, long time since he had had a +home. As a matter of fact, he had not cared to have one. A tent in Egypt +or Syria, furnished with a mummy or two, and with a few neighborly ruins +next door--this had been his idea of comfort. It was his idea still, but +nevertheless-- + +And then he became aware that from somewhere, apparently from the +heavens above, a voice was shouting--yes, roaring--his name. + +“Mr. Bangs!... Hi-i, Mr. Bangs!” + +Galusha came out of his walking dream, stared about him, found that he +had walked almost to the fence surrounding the light keeper's home and +would have collided with that fence in another stride or two, looked +around, down, and finally up--to see Captain Jethro leaning over the +iron rail surrounding the lantern room at the top of the lighthouse. + +“Oh! Why--ah--good gracious!” he exclaimed. “Were you calling me, +Captain Hallett?” + +Captain Jethro shook his big head. “Callin'!” he repeated. “I've been +bellerin' like the foghorn for five minutes. A little more of it and +I'd have run out of steam or bust a b'iler, one or t'other. Ain't been +struck deef, have you, Mr. Bangs?” + +“No--ah--no, I trust not. I was--ah--thinking, I presume, and I did not +hear you. I'm very sorry.” + +“That's all right. Glad you was only thinkin' and no worse. I didn't +know but you'd been struck by walkin' paralysis or somethin'. Say,” + he leaned further over the rail and lowered his voice. “Say,” he said +again, “would you mind comin' up here a minute? I want to talk to you.” + +Mr. Bangs did not mind and, entering the round tower, he climbed the +spiral stair to the little room at the top. The great lantern, with its +glittering facets and lenses filled that room almost entirely, and the +light keeper's great form filled it still more. There was scarcely space +for little Galusha to squeeze in. + +Jethro explained that he had been cleaning the lantern. “It's Zacheus' +job really,” he observed, “but I have to do it myself once in a while +to keep it shipshape. Say,” he added, opening the door which led to the +balcony, “look out yonder. Worth lookin' at, ain't it?” + +It was. The morning was dry and clear, a brisk wind from the west, and +not a cloud. The lighthouse, built as it was upon the knoll at the edge +of the bluff, seemed to be vastly higher than it actually was, and to +tower far above all else until the view from its top was almost like +that from an aeroplane. The horizon swept clear and unbroken for three +quarters of a circle, two of those quarters the sharp blue rim of the +ocean meeting the sky. The white wave-crests leaped and twinkled and +danced for miles and miles. Far below on the yellow sand of the beach, +the advancing and retreating breakers embroidered lacy patterns which +changed constantly. + +“Worth looking at, ain't it?” repeated the captain. + +Galusha nodded. “Indeed it is,” he said, with emphasis. Yet it surprised +him slightly to find the gruff old light keeper enthusiastic concerning +a scene which must be so very much a matter of course to him. + +“The Almighty done a good job when He built that,” observed Captain +Jethro, waving his hand toward the Atlantic. “Don't never get tired +of lookin' at salt water, I don't, and yet I've been in it or on it or +around it pretty much all my life. And now I'm up above it,” he added, +thoughtfully. “We're pretty high up where we are now, Mr. Bangs. I like +to set up here and--er--well, kind of think about things, sometimes.... +Humph!... Do you cal'late we're any nigher when we're up aloft here than +we are down on the ground yonder; nigher to THEM, I mean?” + +His visitor was puzzled. “I--I beg your pardon?” he stammered. +“Nigher--ah--nearer to--ah--what?” + +“Nigher to them--them that's gone afore. Seems sometimes, when I'm alone +up here, particular of a foggy day, as if I was consider'ble nigher +to them--to HER, especial--than when I'm on the ground. Think there's +anything in it, do you?” + +Galusha said he didn't know; we know so little about such things, +really. He wondered what the captain had invited him up there to talk +about. Some spiritualistic subject, very likely; the conversation seemed +to be tending that way. Jethro appeared to have forgotten altogether +the seance and his, Galusha's, assumption of the character of the small, +dark “evil influence.” It looked very much as if that assumption--so far +as it entailed the permanent shifting of prejudice from Nelson Howard to +himself--had been effort wasted. + +Captain Jeth pulled at his beard and seemed to be dreaming. Galusha +pitied the old fanatic as he stood there, massive, rugged, brows drawn +together, sturdy legs apart as if set to meet the roll of a ship at +sea--a strong figure, yet in a way the figure of a wistful, dreaming +child, helpless-- + +“Mr. Bangs,” said the light keeper, “don't you cal'late, if you set out +to, you could sell my four hundred Wellmouth Development same as you +sold Martha's two hundred and fifty?” + +Galusha would have sat down, if there had been anything except the floor +to sit down on. As a matter of fact, even that consideration might not +have prevented his sitting; his knees bent suddenly and he was on his +way to the floor, but his shoulders struck the wall behind him and +furnished the support he so very much needed. So far as speech was +concerned, that was out of the question. His mouth opened and shut, but +nothing audible issued therefrom. Mr. Bangs, at that moment, gave a very +good imitation of a fish unexpectedly jerked out of deep water to dry, +very dry land. + +Captain Jethro did not seem to realize the effect of his question upon +his visitor. His big fist moved downward from his chin to the tip of his +beard, only to rise and take a new hold at the chin again. His gaze was +fixed upon the rolling sea outside. + +“You see,” he went on, “I kind of figger it out this way: If them folks +who bought Martha's stock are cal'latin' to buy up Development they'll +want more'n two hundred and fifty. I'll sell 'em mine at a reasonable +figger; sha'n't ask much over what I paid for it, I sha'n't. If they +ain't buyin' for anything 'special, but just 'cause they think it's a +good thing to keep--well, then--” + +Galusha interrupted. The faculty of framing words and uttering them was +returning to him, albeit slowly and jerkily. + +“Why--why, Captain Hallett,” he faltered. “How--how--who--who--” + +“Martha didn't tell me nothin' except that she had sold her stock,” + broke in the light keeper. “I guessed that, too, afore she told me. +She never mentioned your name, Mr. Bangs, nor where she sold it, nor +nothin'. But, of course, when I found out 'twas you who went to +Boston and fetched home the five thousand dollars I didn't need to be +told--much. Now, Mr. Bangs, I wish you'd see if you can't sell my four +hundred shares for me. It'll be consider'ble of a favor if you will. You +see, them shares--” + +But Galusha did not wait for him to finish. His alarmed protests fairly +tumbled over each other. + +“Why--why, Captain Hallett,” he cried, “really I--I... ah... What you +ask is quite impossible. Oh, very much so--ah--very. You see... Well, +really, I... Captain Hallett, this entire matter was supposed to be a +secret, an absolute secret. I am surprised--and--ah--shocked to learn--” + +The captain's big paw was uplifted as a signal. “Sshh! Heave to! Come up +into the wind a minute, Mr. Bangs. 'Tis a secret, fur's I'm consarned, +and 'twill be just the same after I've sold my stock. I realize that +business men don't want business matters talked about, 'tain't likely. +All I'd like to have you do is just see if you can't dispose of that +four hundred of mine, same as you done with Martha's. Just as a favor +I'm askin' it.” + +Galusha shook his head violently. His agitation was as great as ever. +After going through the agony of the frying pan and congratulating +himself that that torment was over, then to find he had escaped merely +into the fire was perfectly maddening--not to say frightening--and--oh, +dear, dear, dear! + +“Really, I'm very sorry, very,” he reiterated. “But I am QUITE sure I +can do nothing with your shares, Captain Hallett. It--it--such a thing +would be absolutely impossible. I'm sorry.” + +Captain Jethro's calm was unshaken. “We-ll,” he said, slowly, “I ain't +altogether surprised. Course I could see that maybe you wouldn't want to +go cruisin' up to them folks again, 'specially they bein' relations. I +don't blame you for that, Mr. Bangs. But, in case you did feel that way, +I'd made up my mind I'd go up there myself and see 'em.” + +“Eh? Ah--ah--See? See whom?” + +“Why, them relations of yours. Them Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot folks. +I know OF 'em; everybody that knows anything about bankin' does, of +course. I don't know any of 'em personal, but I cal'lated maybe you'd +be willin' to give me a note, a letter introducin' me, you see. Then +I could tell 'em why I come, and how I wanted to talk with 'em about +sellin' some more of the same stock they sold for you. That would be all +right, wouldn't it, Mr. Bangs?” + +Galusha did not answer. The absolute hopelessness of the situation was +beginning to force itself upon his understanding. Whether or not he gave +the letter of introduction, the light keeper would go to Cabot, Bancroft +and Cabot--oh, how on earth did he ever learn that THEY had anything +to do with it?--and begin talkin' about Martha Phipps' stock; and they +would deny knowing anything of it; and then the captain would persist, +giving details; and Barbour and Minor and the rest would guess the truth +and probably write Thomas, who would eventually tell Cousin Gussie; and +the light keeper would return home and tell Martha, and she would learn +that he had lied to her and deceived her-- + +“Well, what do you say, Mr. Bangs?” inquired Captain Jethro. + +Bangs turned a haggard gaze in the speaker's direction. The latter was +standing in exactly the same attitude, feet apart, hand to beard, sad +eyes gazing out to sea; just as he had stood when Galusha's sympathy had +gone out to him as a “helpless, dreaming child.” + +“What are you laughin' at?” asked Captain Jeth, switching his gaze from +old ocean to the face of the little archaeologist. + +Galusha had not laughed, but there was a smile, a wan sort of smile, +upon his face. + +“Oh, nothing in particular,” he replied. “I was reflecting that +it seemed rather too bad to waste pity in quarters where it was +not--ah--needed, when there was such a pressing demand, as one might +say, at home.” + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +The earnest young man behind the counter in the office of Cabot, +Bancroft and Cabot--the young man who had so definitely classified +Galusha Bangs as a “nut”--was extremely surprised when that individual +reappeared before his window and, producing the very check which he had +obtained there so short a time before, politely requested to exchange +it for eighty-two hundred dollars in cash and another check for the +balance. + +“Why--why--but--!” exclaimed the young man. + +“Thank you. Yes, if--ah--if you will be so good,” said Galusha. + +The young man himself asked questions, and then called Mr. Minor into +consultation, and Mr. Minor asked more. The answers they received were +not illuminating, but in the end the transaction was made as requested. + +“But, Bangs,” said Minor, laughing, “what I can't understand is why you +want to bother with the check for eleven hundred and odd--whatever it +is. Why not take the whole amount in cash and be done with it?” + +Galusha shook his head. “I prefer it the--ah--other way. If you don't +mind,” he added, politely. + +“Oh, we don't mind. But--well, it seems rather funny, that's all. Ha, +ha!” + +“Does it? Yes, I--ah--dare say it does.” + +“Ha, ha! Yes, rather. Of course, it is your business, you know, but--” + +He laughed again. The harassed Galusha waited until the laugh was over. +Then he said, gently, “Yes, I was under that impression.” + +“Eh? What impression?” + +“That it was, as you say, my--ah--business.” + +“Yes. Why... Eh? Oh!... Humph!... Why, yes, surely, certainly. Here,” + turning briskly to the clerk, “give Mr. Bangs what he wishes at once.” + +He walked away, pulling thoughtfully at his mustache. Galusha, rubbing +his chin, looked gravely after him. The clerk began making out the +check. This done and the check entrusted to a messenger to be taken to +the private office for signing, the next business was the counting of +the money. + +“Eighty-two hundred, you said?” asked the clerk. + +“Eighty-two hundred--ah--yes,” said Galusha. + +Eight thousand was, of course, the price at par of Jethro Hallett's +four hundred shares of Wellmouth Development stock. The additional two +hundred was a premium paid, so to speak, to the departed spirit of the +late Mrs. Jethro Hallett. She, by or through the Chinese control of Miss +Marietta Hoag, had notified her husband that he was destined to sell his +Development shares at a profit, a small profit perhaps, but a profit, +nevertheless. + +So, when at that point of their conversation in the lantern room of the +Gould's Bluffs light, Galusha, recognizing his helpless position and the +alternative of buying the Hallett holdings or being exposed to Cousin +Gussie as a sentimental and idiotic spendthrift and to Martha Phipps as +a liar and criminal--when Galusha, facing this alternative, stammered a +willingness to go to Boston and see if he could not dispose of Jethro's +stock as he had Martha's, the captain added an additional clause. + +“I won't sell for par,” he declared stubbornly. “Julia revealed to me +that I wouldn't, and so I sha'n't. I'll sell for fifty cents a share +extry, but I won't sell for twenty flat. Rather than do that I'll go +to them Cabot folks myself and see if I can't find out who's buyin' and +why. Then I'll go to the real buyers and make the best trade I can with +them. If they really want to get hold of that stock, fifty cents a share +won't stand in their way, I'll bet you.” + +It did not stand in Galusha's way, either. In his desperate position he +would have paid any amount obtainable rather than have the light keeper +go to Boston on such an errand. + +Leaving the clerk's window with his pocket bulging with bank notes, Mr. +Bangs proceeded sadly, but with determination, to the private office +of Mr. Barbour, his cousin's “second secretary.” There, producing from +another pocket a huge envelope, portentously daubed and sealed with red +wax, he handed it to Barbour. It contained the two stock certificates, +each signed in blank, Martha's for two hundred and fifty shares, Captain +Jethro's for four hundred. The envelope and the wax he had procured at a +stationer's near the South Station. The obliging salesman had permitted +him to do the sealing on the premises. + +“Mr. Barbour,” he faltered, “I should like to leave this with you, +if--if quite convenient, that is to say.” + +Barbour turned the big envelope over. + +“Yes, Mr. Bangs, surely,” he said, but he looked puzzled. “What is it?” + +Galusha blushed and stammered. “Why--why--” he began; “I--ah--you +see--it is--ah--something of mine.” + +“Something you wish me to take care of?” asked Barbour, still looking at +the envelope. + +His caller grasped at the straw. + +“Yes--yes, that is it,” he said, eagerly. “Dear me, yes. If you will be +so kind.” + +“Yes, indeed, Mr. Bangs. No trouble at all. I'll put it--” + +But the little man stopped the sentence in the middle. + +“If--if you please,” he protested. “Ah--please don't. I don't wish to +know where you put it. Really, I don't, not in the least. I very much +prefer not to know where it is.... Ah--good-day, Mr. Barbour. Thank you +very much.” + +The general opinion in the office of Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot +concerning the senior partner's queer cousin was strengthened by this +visit. The surmise that Galusha Bangs was a “nut” became a conviction. + +But, for the “nut” himself, life during the coming weeks and months +became a much less worrisome struggle. Returning to East Wellmouth, +for the second time laden with legal tender, he delivered his burden to +Captain Jethro, who, in return, promised faithfully never to reveal a +word concerning the sale of his Development stock or drop a hint which +might help to locate its purchasers. + +“Course I won't say nothin',” vowed the captain. “I realize that +business men don't want their business talked about. And if them Cabot, +Bancroft and Cabot folks are tryin' to buy in the stock, whether it's +for themselves or somebody else, they'll want it kept dark. No, I ain't +told a soul on this earth and I WON'T tell one. That is satisfactory, +ain't it?” + +The shadow of a smile passed across Galusha's face. “Quite, quite,” he +replied. “Nothing could be more so unless--” + +“Well, unless what?” + +“Oh, nothing, nothing. Thank you--ah--thank you very much.” + +It had occurred to him that, considering the light keeper's +peculiarities, the promise not to tell a soul on earth might be +stretched to include those elsewhere; but he kept the thought to +himself. Captain Jethro did not press his question. The shrewd +old captain was so thoroughly delighted at having sold, and at the +prophesied profit, his troublesome holdings in the Wellmouth Development +Company, that his mood was neither combative nor inquisitive. + +Galusha did not tell Miss Phipps of his business deal with the light +keeper. In the first place, his telling her would involve more deception +and, also, might lead to more possibilities of discovery. The average, +well-meaning person, having been driven by relentless fate to the +committing of murder, could scarcely have felt more conscience-stricken +and depraved than did little Galusha Bangs at having lied to Martha +Phipps. Of course, the lies and deceit had resulted in a distinct +benefit to her and had been perpetrated solely with that idea, but this +fact he ignored entirely. And no murderer could have been more anxious +to hide his guilty secret than was he. So, for the first few days +after his return with the light keeper's money, he was inclined to be +thoughtful and nervous, to fall into troubled trances at table or in +the middle of a conversation, and to start rather violently when aroused +from those trances. Primmie was disposed to attribute these lapses to +disease. She confided her fears to her employer. + +“You know what I think 'tis makes him act so, Miss Martha?” she asked, +on one occasion. + +“Makes who act how?” + +“Makes Mr. Bangs set there and go moonin' off and not pay no attention +and then jump when you wake him up as if you'd stuck a pin in him. You +know what I think 'tis? I think maybe it's dropsy.” + +“WHAT?” + +“Um-hm. I had a great-aunt once; had a slew of 'em, fur's that goes, +'cause my grandmother on the starboard side--” + +“WHAT side?” + +“Eh! Oh, that's what pa used to call his side of the family, the +starboard side. All ma's folks was port side, 'cordin' to his tell. +He'd worked aboard vessels, pa had; that is, as much as he ever worked +anywheres. Well, anyhow, his grandmother she had eight sisters and three +brothers, so I had great-aunts thicker'n miskeeters in a swamp hole--my +savin' soul, yes! Well, anyhow, one of 'em, Aunt Lucifer 'twas--” + +“PRIMMIE! WHAT was her name?” + +“Lucifer. Ma and us children always called her Aunt Lucy, though; she +liked it better.” + +“Heavens and earth! I should think she might. WHAT possessed anybody to +name a child Lucifer? And a girl-child at that!” + +“Does sound kind of funny, don't it? Folks 'most always used to laugh +when they heard what her name was. That is, fust along they did; but +they never laughed but once when she was around. Talk about makin' +anybody mad! And temper--my Lord of Isrul! Why, if they laughed at +her name she was li'ble to grab hold of the fust thing come to hand, +flatiron or frying pan or chunk of stove wood or anything, and let 'em +have it rattlety-bang-jing. _I_ never seen her do it, of course--all +that was afore MY time--but pa used to say it never made no difference +whether 'twas the man come tryin' to collect the store bill or the +minister or anybody, she'd up and flatten him just the same. Course pa +said 'twas a whole lot more li'ble to be the bill man than the minister +'cause there was precious few ministers ever--” + +“There, there, Primmie! I can't stop to listen any longer, I'm busy. But +do tell me why they named the poor thing Lucifer? How did they ever hear +the name, anyway; way over in those Mashpaug woods?” + +“Oh, there was a story about that, kind of a pretty story 'twas, +too. 'Cordin' to pa's tell, the fust time Aunt Lucy's ma--my great +grandmother, and the land knows what HER name was, _I_ don't--the fust +time she went out after the baby was born she went to camp meetin'. And +one of the ministers there he talked some consider'ble about a critter +name of Lucifer that was a fallen-down angel, whatever that is. Well, my +great-grandmother she didn't understand much about what he was talkin' +about--I cal'late none of 'em did fur's that goes, and no wonder--but +the name of Lucifer sort of stuck in her head 'cause she thought 'twas +kind of pretty. And when she got back home they told her the baby had +fetched loose from the bed where it had been asleep and fell onto the +floor and pretty nigh busted itself in two. And it never hardly cried +at all--was a reg'lar angel they said--and that made her think about the +fallen-down angel she'd just heard tell of to camp meetin' and its name +was Lucifer. And they hadn't named the baby yet, so--” + +“I see. Ha, ha! Primmie, you are--well, there aren't many like you, I'm +sure. Now I must go. Well, what is it?” + +“Oh, nothin', only I ain't told you why I think Mr. Bangs may be comin' +down with dropsy. You see, Aunt Lucy--this Lucifer one I've been tellin' +you about--she had it. I only remember her 'long towards her last. She +wan't heavin' any teakittles at folks then; my savin' soul, no! She used +to set in a big rockin'-chair over by the stove and was all puffed-up +like--like a featherbed, you might say; and she'd kind of doze along and +doze along and you could holler your head off and she wouldn't pay no +attention, and then she'd kind of wake up, as you might say, and sing +out, 'Hey? What say?' just like Mr. Bangs, for all the world. And 'twas +dropsy she had, so now you see, don't you, Miss Martha?” + +“Yes, yes, Primmie, I see. Tut, tut, tut! You certainly have a great +imagination, of its kind. I shouldn't worry about Mr. Bangs' disease, if +I were you. The poor man isn't really strong yet and he has been runnin' +back and forth to Boston lately altogether too much for his own good. He +is tired and his nerves are tired, too; so we must make it as easy as we +can for him, Primmie, you and I.” + +“Yes'm. He's a good man, ain't he?” + +“Indeed he is!” + +“Yes'm. Even if he is so kind of--of funny.” + +Often, in earlier conversations with her housemaid, Miss Phipps had +agreed that her lodger was, to say the least, “funny”; but now she +seemed to resent the word. + +“Humph!” she observed, crisply, “if he is, I presume likely he has the +right to be. And I know this, if there were more 'funny' people like +him in this world it would be a big improvement. Primmie, go and do your +sweepin'.” + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +With the end of the following week spring came in earnest to Gould's +Bluffs, not yet as a steady boarder--spring in New England is a young +lady far too fickle for that--but to make the first of her series of +ever-lengthening visits. Galusha found her, indeed, a charming young +person. His walks now were no longer between snowdrifts or over frozen +fields and hills. Those hills and fields were still bare and brown, of +course, but here and there, in sheltered hollows, tiny bits of new green +began to show. In April, by disturbing the layers of dead leaves and +sodden vegetation through which these hints of greenness peeped, one was +likely to come upon fragrant treasures, the pink and white blossoms of +the trailing arbutus. + +There was a superfluity of mud, of course, and as Miss Phipps often +informed him, Galusha's boots and lower trouser legs were “sights to +see” when he came back from those walks. He expressed contrition and +always proclaimed that he should be much more careful in future--much +more, yes. But he was not, nor did he care greatly. He was feeling quite +well again, better than he had felt for years, and spring was in his +middle-aged blood and was rejuvenating him, just as it was rejuvenating +the world and its creatures about him, including Lucy Larcom, Martha's +ancient and rheumatic Thomas cat. Lucy--an animal as misnamed as +Primmie's “Aunt Lucifer”--instead of slumbering peacefully and +respectably in his cushioned box in the kitchen, which had been his +custom of winter nights, now refused to come in at bedtime, ignored his +mistress' calls altogether, and came rolling home in the morning with +slit ears and scarred hide and an air of unrepentant and dissipated +abandon. + +Galusha, inspecting the prodigal's return one morning, observed: “Luce, +when I first met you, you reminded me strongly of my Aunt Clarissa. The +air of--ah--dignity and respectable disapproval with which you looked me +over was much like hers. But now--now, if you wore a hat on one side and +an--ah--exuberant waistcoat, you would remind me more of Mr. Pulcifer.” + +With April came the fogs, and the great foghorn bellowed and howled +night after night. Galusha soon learned to sleep through the racket. It +was astonishing, his capacity for sleep and his capability in sleeping +up to capacity. His appetite, too, was equally capable. He was, in fact, +feeling so very well that his conscience began troubling him +concerning his duty to the Institute. He wrote to the directors of that +establishment suggesting that, as his health was so greatly improved, +perhaps he had better return to his desk. The reply was prompt. The +directors were, so the letter said, much pleased to hear of his improved +health, but they wished him to insure the permanence of that improvement +by remaining away for another six months at least. “We have,” the writer +added, “a plan, not yet definite and complete, although approaching that +condition, which will call for your knowledge and experienced guidance. +Our plan will probably materialize in the fall or winter. I can say no +more concerning it now, except to add that we feel sure that it will +be acceptable to you and that you should take every precaution to gain +strength and health as a preparatory measure.” + +Galusha could not guess what the plan might be, but he was a bit +surprised to find himself so willing to agree to the directors' mandate +that he remain in East Wellmouth for the present. His beloved desk in +his beloved study there in Washington had been torn from him, or rather +he had been torn from it, and for a time it had really seemed as if the +pangs of severance might prove fatal. By all that was fit and proper he +should fiercely resent the order to remain away for another six months. +But he did not resent it fiercely; did not resent it at all; in fact, to +be quite honest, he welcomed it. He was inwardly delighted to be ordered +to remain in East Wellmouth. Such a state of mind was surprising, quite +nonunderstandable. + +And, day by day and week by week, the fear that his guilty secret +concerning the Wellmouth Development stock might be discovered became +less and less acute. Captain Jethro never mentioned it; Martha Phipps, +when she found that he preferred not to discuss it, kept quiet, also. +Perhaps, after all, no one would ever know anything about it. And the +change in Martha's spirits was glorious to see. + +He and Lulie Hallett had many quiet talks together. Ever since the +evening of the seance when, partially by craft and partially by luck, +he had prevented her father's discovering young Howard's presence in +the house, she had unreservedly given him her friendship. And this gift +Galusha appreciated. He had liked her when they first met and the liking +had increased. She was a sensible, quiet, unaffected country girl. She +was also an extremely pretty girl, and when a very pretty girl--and +sensible and unaffected and the rest--makes you her confidant and asks +your advice concerning her love affair and her heart's most precious +secrets, even a middle-aged “mummy duster,” whose interest in the female +sex has, until very recently, centered upon specimens of that sex who +have been embalmed several thousand years--even such a one cannot help +being gratified by the subtle flattery. + +So when Lulie asked his advice Galusha gave it, such as he happened to +have in stock, whole-heartedly and without reserve. He and she had many +chats and the subjects of these chats were almost invariably two--her +father and Nelson Howard. How could she reconcile the one with and to +the other? Mr. Bangs' council was, of course, to wait and hope, but +a council of procrastination is, to say the most, but partially +satisfying. + +One afternoon, in the middle of May, he met her on the way back from the +village and, as they walked on together, he asked her if there were any +new developments in the situation. She looked troubled. + +“I don't exactly know what you mean by developments,” she said. “If you +mean that father is any more reconciled to Nelson, he isn't, that's all. +On any other subject he is as nice as he can be. If I wanted anything in +the world, and he had money enough to buy it, I do believe I could have +it just for the asking. That is a good deal to say,” she added, with a +half smile, “considering how fond father is of money, but honestly, Mr. +Bangs, I think it's true.” + +Galusha declared that he had no doubt of its truth, indeed, no. + +“But, you see,” continued Lulie, “the one thing I do want--which is for +father to like Nelson--can't be bought with money. I try to talk with +him, and argue with him; sometimes when he is especially good-natured +and has been especially nice to me, I try to coax him, but it always +ends in one way; he gets cross and won't listen. 'Don't talk to me +about that Howard swab, I won't hear it.' That's what he always says. He +always calls Nelson a 'swab.' Oh, dear! I'm so tired of it all.” + +“Yes--ah--yes, I'm sure you must be. Ah--um--swab? Swab? It doesn't +sound agreeable. What is a--ah--swab, may I ask?” + +“Oh, I believe it's a kind of mop that the sailors use aboard ship to +clean decks with. I believe that is what it is.” + +“Indeed? Yes, yes, of course. Now that is quite interesting, isn't it? +A mop--yes. But really, I don't see why Mr. Howard should be called +a--ah--mop. There is nothing about him which suggests a mop to me. Now +in my case--why, this very morning Miss Mar--Miss Phipps suggested that +my hair needed cutting very badly. I hadn't noticed it, myself, but when +she called my attention I looked in the mirror and--ah--really, I was +quite a sight. Ah--shaggy, you know, like a--like a yak.” + +“A what?” + +“A yak. The--ah--Tibetan animal. I spent a season in Tibet a number +of years ago and they use them there for beasts of burden. They have a +great deal of hair, you know, and so did I--ah--this morning. Dear me, +yes; I was quite yaklike.” + +Lulie turned an amused glance at him. “So Martha tells you when--” + she began, and then stopped, having spoken without thinking. But her +companion was not offended. + +“Oh, yes, yes,” he said cheerfully. “She tells me many things for my own +good. She quite manages me. It is extremely good of her, for goodness +knows I need it. Dear me, yes!” He thoughtfully rubbed his shorn neck +and added, “I told that barber that my hair needed cutting badly. +I--ah--fear that is the way he cut it.... I read that joke in the paper, +Miss Lulie; it isn't original, really.” + +He smiled and she burst out laughing. But she did not laugh long. When +she next spoke she was serious enough. + +“Mr. Bangs,” she said, “you don't think it dishonorable, or mean to +father, for me to keep on seeing Nelson, do you? Father keeps ordering +me not to, but I never say I won't. If he asked me I should tell him +that I did.” + +Galusha's answer was promptly given. + +“No, I don't think it dishonorable,” he said. “Of course, you must see +him. It is too bad that you are obliged to see him in--ah--ah--dear me, +what is the word I want? Clan--clan--sounds Scottish, doesn't +it?--oh, yes, clandestine! It is too bad you are obliged to see him +clandestinely, but I suppose your father's attitude makes anything else +impossible. I am very sorry that my claiming to be the evil influence +has had so little effect. That was a mistake, I fear.” + +“Don't say that, Mr. Bangs. You saved us all from a dreadful scene, and +father himself from--I hate to think what. Don't ever say that it was a +mistake, please. But I do so hate all this hiding and pretending. Some +day it will have to end, but how I don't know. Nelson comes first, +of course; but how can I leave father? I shall see him--Nelson, I +mean--to-night, Mr. Bangs. He has written me saying he is coming over, +and I am going to meet him. He says he has good news. I can't think what +it can be. I can't think of any good news that could come for him and +me, except that father has stopped believing in Marietta Hoag's +spirits and has gotten over his ridiculous prejudice; and that WON'T +come--ever.” + +“Oh, yes, it will! I'm sure it will. Dear me, you mustn't lose heart, +you know.” + +“Mustn't I? No, I suppose I mustn't. Thank you, Mr. Bangs. Nelson and I +are ever and ever so much obliged to you. You are a great comfort to me. +I told Martha that very thing yesterday,” she added. + +Galusha could not help looking pleased. “Did you, indeed?” he observed. +“Well, well--ah--dear me, that was a rather rash statement, wasn't it?” + +“Not a bit. And do you want to know what she said? She said you were a +great comfort to a good many people, Mr. Bangs. So there; you see!” + +That evening the moon rolled, like a silver bowl, over the liquid rim of +the horizon, and, upsetting, spilled shimmering, shining, dancing +fire in a broad path from sky edge to the beach at the foot of Gould's +Bluffs. At the top of that bluff, in the rear of a clump of bayberry +bushes which shielded them from the gaze of possible watchers at the +lighthouse, Nelson Howard and Lulie, walking slowly back and forth, saw +it rise. + +Nelson told her the good news he had mentioned in his letter. It was +that he had been offered a position as operator at the great wireless +station in Trumet. It was what he had been striving for and hoping for +and his war record in the radio service had made it possible for him +to obtain it. The pay was good to begin with and the prospect of +advancement bright. + +“And, of course, the best of it is,” he said, “that I shall be no +further away from you than I am now. Trumet isn't a bit farther than +South Wellmouth. There! Don't you think that my good news IS good news?” + +Of course she did and said so. + +“And I'm awfully proud of you, too,” she told him. + +“Nothing to be proud of; I'm lucky, that's all. And don't you see, dear, +how this is going to help us? I shall be earning good pay and I shall +save every cent possible, you can bet on that. Rooms are furnished by +the company for single men, and houses, nice, comfortable houses, for +the married ones. In three months, or in six at the most, I shall have +added enough to what I have saved already to make it possible for us to +be married. And we WILL be married. Just think of you and me having one +of those pretty little houses for our own, and being there together, in +our home! Just think of it! Won't it be wonderful!” + +He looked down into her face and smiled and she, looking up into his, +smiled, too. But she shook her head, nevertheless. + +“Yes, dear,” she said, “it would be wonderful. But it's too wonderful to +be true, I'm afraid.” + +“Why? Nonsense! Of course it can be true. And it's going to be, too, in +six months, perhaps sooner.” + +But still she shook her head. + +“It can't be, Nelson,” she said, sadly. “Don't you see it can't? There +is father.” + +“Your father will be all right. That's one of the good things about this +new job of mine. You will be only a little way from him. He'll be here +at the light, with Zach to look after him, and you can come over every +few days to make sure things are going as they should. Why--” + +She touched his lips with her fingers. + +“Don't, dear,” she begged. “You know you're only talking just because +it is nice to make-believe. I like to hear you, too; but what is the use +when it's ONLY make-believe? You know what father's health really +is; you know how nervous he is. Doctor Powers told me he must not be +overexcited or--or dreadful things might happen. You saw him at that +horrid seance thing.” + +He shrugged. “If I didn't see I heard,” he admitted. + +“Yes, you heard. And you know how near--Now suppose I should tell him +that you and I intended getting married and going to Trumet to live; +what do you think would happen?” + +“But, look here, Lulie: You've got to tell him some time, because we ARE +going to be married, you know.” + +“Are we? Yes, I--I hope we are. But, oh, Nelson, sometimes I get almost +discouraged. I CAN'T leave him in that way, you know that. And, in a +sense, I don't want to leave him, because he is my father and I love +him.” + +“But, confound it, you love me, too, don't you?” + +“You know I do. But--but--oh, dear! What can I do?” + +He did not answer at once. After a moment he said, rebelliously: “You +have got your own life to live. Your father has lived the biggest part +of his. He hasn't any right to prevent your being happy. It would be +different if he had any excuse for it, reasonable excuse. I'm a--well, +I'm not a thief--or a fool, quite, I hope. I can provide for you +comfortably and I'll do my level best to be a good husband to you. If +there was any excuse for his hating me, any except that idiotic spirit +craziness of his. And what right has he to order you around? A hundred +years or so ago fathers used to order their sons and daughters to marry +this one or the other, and if they didn't mind they disinherited 'em, or +threw 'em out of doors, or some such stuff. At least, that's the way it +worked, according to the books and plays. But that doesn't go nowadays. +What right has he--” + +But again she touched his lips. + +“Don't, Nelson, please,” she said, gently. “Rights haven't anything to +do with it, of course. You know they haven't, don't you? You know it's +just--just that things are AS they are and that's all. If father was as +he used to be, his real self, and he behaved toward you as he is doing, +I shouldn't hesitate at all. I should marry you and feel I was doing +exactly right. But now--” + +She stopped and he, stooping, caught a gleam of moisture where the +moonlight touched her cheek. He put his arm about her waist. + +“Don't, dear,” he said, hastily. “I'm sorry. Forgive me, will you? Of +course you're dead right and I've been talking like a jackass. I'll +behave, honest I will.... But what ARE we going to do? I won't give you +up, you know, no matter if every spirit control in--in wherever they +come from orders me to.” + +She smiled. “Of course we're not going to give each other up,” she +declared. “As for what we're going to do, I don't know. I suppose there +is nothing to do for the present except to wait and--and hope father may +change his mind. That's all, isn't it?” + +He shook his head. “Waiting is a pretty slow game,” he said. “I wonder, +if I pretended to fall in love with Marietta Hoag, if those Chinese +spooks of hers would send word to Cap'n Jeth that I was really a fairly +decent citizen. Courting Marietta would be hard medicine to take, but if +it worked a cure we might try it. What do you think?” + +“I should be afraid that the remedy might be worse than the disease. +Once in Marietta's clutches how would you get away?” + +“Oh, that would be easy. I'd have Doctor Powers swear that I had been +suffering from temporary softening of the brain and wasn't accountable +for what I'd been doing.” + +“She might not believe it.” + +“Maybe not, but everybody else would. Nothing milder than softening of +the brain would account for a fellow's falling in love with Marietta +Hoag.” + +A little later, as they were parting, she said, “Nelson, you're an +awfully dear fellow to be so thoughtful and forbearing and--and patient. +Sometimes I think I shouldn't let you wait for me any longer.” + +“Let me! How are you going to stop me? Of course I'll wait for you. +You're the only thing worth waiting for in the world. Don't you know +that?” + +“I know you think so. But, oh, dear, it seems sometimes as if there +never would be any end to the waiting, and as if I had no right to +ask--” + +“There, there! Don't YOU begin talking about rights. There's going to be +an end and the right kind of end. No Chinese spooks are going to keep us +apart, my girl, not if I can help it.” + +“I know. But can you help it?... I must go now. Yes, I must, or father +will wonder where I am and begin looking for me. He thinks I am over at +Martha Phipps', you know. Good-night, dear.” + +“Good-night, girlie. Don't worry, it's coming out all right for us, I'm +sure of it. This new job of mine is the first step in that direction. +There! Kiss me and run along. Good-night.” + +They kissed and parted, Lulie to hasten back along the path to the +light and Nelson to stride off in the opposite direction toward South +Wellmouth. Neither of them saw two figures which had, the moment before, +appeared upon the summit of the knoll about thirty yards from the edge +of the bluff and directly behind them. But the pair on the knoll saw +them. + +Martha Phipps had been standing by the window of the sitting room in her +home looking out. She had been standing there for some minutes. Galusha +Bangs, in the rocking-chair by the center table, was looking at her. +Suddenly Martha spoke. + +“I declare!” she exclaimed. “I do believe that's the loveliest moon I +ever saw. I presume likely,” she added, with a laugh, “it's the same +moon I've always seen; it just looks lovelier, that's all, seems to me. +It will be beautiful to look at from the top of the bluff, the light on +the water, I mean. You really ought to walk over and see it, Mr. Bangs.” + +Galusha hesitated, rubbed his spectacles, and then was seized with an +inspiration. + +“I--I will if you will go, too,” he said. + +Martha turned to see if he was in earnest. + +“Mercy me!” she exclaimed. “Why should I go? I've seen that moon on that +same water more times than I like to count.” + +“But you haven't seen it--ah--recently. Now have you?” + +“Why, no, I don't know as I have. Come to think of it, I don't believe +I've been over to the top of the bank to see the moonlight since--well, +since father died. Father loved to look at salt water by sunlight +or moonlight--or no light. But, good gracious,” she added, “it seems +awfully foolish, doesn't it, to go wading through the wet grass to look +at the moon--at my age?” + +“Why, not at all, not at all,” persisted Galusha. “I must be--ah--vastly +older than you, Miss Phipps, and--” + +“Nonsense!” + +“Oh, but I am, really. One has only to look at me to see. And there +are times when I feel--ah--incredibly ancient; indeed, yes. Now in your +case, Miss Martha--” + +“In my case I suppose I'm just a slip of a girl. For mercy sakes, don't +let's talk ages, no, nor think about 'em, either.... Do YOU want to go +out to-night to look at that moon, Mr. Bangs?” + +“Why, yes--I--if you--” + +“Then get your rubbers and cap. I'll be ready in a minute.” + +The moon was well up now and land and sea were swimming in its misty +radiance. There was not a breath of wind and the air was as mild as if +the month had been June and not May. Under their feet the damp grass and +low bushes swished and rustled. An adventurous beetle, abroad before his +time, blundered droning by their heads. From the shadow of a bunch of +huckleberry bushes by the path a lithe figure soared lightly aloft, a +furry paw swept across, and that June bug was knocked into the vaguely +definite locality known as the “middle of next week.” + +Martha uttered a little scream. “Goodness gracious me!” she exclaimed. +“Lucy Larcom, you bad cat, how you did scare me!” + +Lucy leaped soundlessly over the clump of huckleberry bushes and +galloped gayly into the distance, his tail waving like a banner. + +“WELL!” observed his mistress; “for a cat as old as you are I must say!” + +“He feels young to-night,” said Galusha. “It must be the--ah--moonlight, +I think. Really, I--ah--I feel surprisingly young, myself. I do, +indeed!” + +Martha laughed blithely. They came to the abrupt little slope at the +southwestern edge of the government property and when he offered to help +her down she took his hand and sprang down herself, almost as +lightly and easily as Lucy could have done it. Galusha laughed, too, +light-heartedly as a boy. His spectacles fell off and he laughed at +that. + +The minute afterward they arrived at the crest of the knoll. Another +moment and the silhouetted figures of Lulie Hallett and Nelson Howard +appeared from behind the clump of bayberry bushes and walked onward +together, his arm about her waist. The pair on the knoll saw the +parting. + +Lulie ran up the path and the door of the light keeper's cottage closed +behind her. Howard disappeared around the bend of the hill. Martha and +Galusha turned hastily and began walking toward home. Neither spoke +until they were almost there. Then Miss Phipps, apparently feeling that +something should be said, observed: “The moon was--was real pretty, +wasn't it, Mr. Bangs?” + +Galusha started. “Eh?” he queried. “Oh, yes! yes, indeed! Ah--quite so.” + +He made the next remark also; it was quite irrelevant. + +“Youth,” he said, musingly. “Youth is a wonderful thing, really it is.” + +Possibly his companion understood his thought, or had been thinking +along the same line herself. At all events she agreed. “Yes, it is,” she +said. “It is so. And most of us don't realize how wonderful until it's +gone.” + +From the shadows by the gate Lucy Larcom sprang aloft to knock another +beetle galley-west. Lucy was distinctly a middle-aged cat, but he did +not allow the fact to trouble him. He gathered his June bugs while he +might and did not stop to dream vain dreams of vanished youth. + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Early June came to Gould's Bluffs. The last of the blossoms fell from +the apple and pear trees in the Phipps' orchard, there were young +swallows in the nests beneath the eaves of the shed, and tulips and +hyacinths gave color and fragrance to the flower beds in the front yard. +Down in the village Ras Beebe began his twice-a-year window dressing, +removing the caps, candy, sweaters, oil heaters, patent medicines and +mittens to substitute bathing suits, candy, straw hats, toy shovels, +patent medicines and caps. Small boys began barefoot experiments. +Miss Tamson Black departed for Nantucket to visit a cousin. Mr. Raish +Pulcifer had his wife resurrect his black-and-white striped flannel +trousers from the moth chest and hang them in the yard. “No use +talkin',” so Zach Bloomer declared, “summer is headin' down our way. +She'll be here afore we know it.” + +She was. One pleasant morning Galusha, emerging from the Phipps' “side +door,” saw workmen about the premises of the Restabit Inn. For a week +thereafter the neighborhood echoed with hammer blows and reeked with the +smell of new paint. The Restabit Inn, shaking off its winter shabbiness, +emerged scrubbed, darned, patched and pressed, so to speak, in its +last--and several “lasts before that”--summer suit made over, ready to +receive callers. + +On the twentieth of the month the callers began to arrive. East +Wellmouth broke out, as a child breaks out with the measles, in +brilliant speckles, the disease in this instance being unmistakably +a pronounced case of summer boarders. The “speckles” were everywhere, +about the post office, in Ras Beebe's store, about the lighthouse, +on the beaches, and far and wide over the hills and hollows. They +picknicked in the pine groves, they giggled in the back seats on prayer +meeting nights, they sang noisily on the way back to the hotel after +evening mail sorting, they danced jazzily in the hotel parlor and on the +porches. + +Martha did not mind them; she said they were rather nice, on the +whole, because they helped to remind her that all creation wasn't East +Wellmouth. Galusha didn't object to them, except when they were TOO +noisy at midnight or thereabouts and interfered with his slumbers. +Primmie condescended to them and aired her knowledge of local +celebrities and traditions. Captain Jethro ignored them utterly and +Lulie was popular among them. Only Zacheus, the philosopher, seemed to +find them unmitigated nuisances. Somehow or other the summer visitor got +under Mr. Bloomer's hard shell and upon his salt-seasoned nerves. + +“Blast 'em!” grumbled Zach, “I don't know why 'tis, but they rile me +like fury. Prob'ly it's because I ain't never been much used to 'em the +way I would have been if I'd been keepin' light ashore all my days. Out +on the old Hog's Back we never had no visitors to speak of and we used +to hanker for 'em. Here, by Godfreys, they don't give us no time to +hanker for nothin'. And they ask such foolhead questions! One woman, she +says to me yesterday, she says--I was showin' her the foghorn, and says +she: 'Do you have to turn a crank to make it go?' Think of that! A hand +crank to make the fourth highest-power foghorn on the coast blow! I lost +my patience. 'No ma'am,' says I, 'a crank ain't necessary. I just put +my mouth to the touch-hole,' I says, 'and breathe natural and she +chirrups.' She believed it, too. I cal'late I'll catch thunder from +Cap'n Jeth if he finds out what I told her, but I can't help it; there's +limits, by Godfreys domino, limits!” + +Galusha found, except for the slight annoyance of too many of these +sojourners, that summer at Gould's Bluffs and vicinity was even more +delightful than the fall and spring had been. His friends, the Halls, +whose invitation to their cottage at Wellmouth had been the cause of his +coming to the Cape, were not occupying that cottage this summer; they +had rented it for the season and gone abroad. So he had no old friends +to call upon. But his new friendships were enjoyable and dependable. His +health improved steadily; he gained in strength, and the fear that +his guilt in the affair of the Wellmouth Development stock might be +discovered grew less and less. Only one thing troubled him, and that +was so vague that it was scarcely a trouble. The Institute people had +written him of some great plan for his professional services, a plan +which was to develop in the fall. Now, by all that was right and proper, +he should have been tremendously curious concerning that plan, should +have been eagerly guessing what it might be and counting the days until +the time came for his return to work and its immediate development. +But he was not curious, he did not count the days; for some weird and +unnatural reason--or for no reason whatever--he was not eager to return +to work. He, Galusha Bangs, whose life had been devoted to his pet +science, who had had no thought except for that science, had labored +for it and in it every day for twenty years and had dreamed about it at +night--he did not seem to care to go back to it. He did not seem to +want to go anywhere. Contentment for him was apparently right there +at Gould's Bluffs and nowhere else. Amazing but true. And no less +disgraceful than amazing. It was a state of mind, of course, a +psychological state due to physiological causes and doubtless was but +temporary. Nevertheless, it troubled him a bit. + +One morning in July he received a shock. Zacheus, returning from the +post office, met him at the Phipps' gate and handed him a letter. + +“Come in last night's mail,” explained Zach. “I happened to be cruisin' +up to the village so I thought I might as well fetch it down to you, Mr. +Bangs.” + +Galusha thanked him and put the letter in his pocket. After +dinner, having gone to his room, he was searching his pockets for a +handkerchief; finding his handkerchief invariably entailed a search, +because he was quite as likely to have put it in his waistcoat pocket as +in those of his trousers, and just as likely to find it at last in the +pocket of his overcoat downstairs on the rack. In this case he did +not find it at all, having dropped it on the road, but he did find the +letter. Still wondering where he could have put the handkerchief, he +absently tore open the envelope and began to read, as follows: + + +“Professor Galusha C. Bangs, East Wellmouth, Mass. + +“DEAR SIR: + +“Mr. Augustus Cabot wishes me to inform you that he has returned to this +office, having, so he feels, quite regained his health. He sends his +regards to you and hopes that you, too, are getting on toward complete +recovery.” + + +Galusha, having read so far, leaned back in his chair. Cousin Gussie +well again! Back again at his Boston office! Why, this was unexpected +news! He was gratified and pleased, of course. Nevertheless, coupled +with the gratification was a slight feeling of uneasiness. Nevada--well, +Nevada was such a long and safe way off; whereas Boston was so very +and dangerously near. To a person with a guilty conscience, one with +a secret to conceal, the advantages of Nevada as a residence for a +possibly inquisitive relative were obvious. And was Thomas writing +merely to impart the news of his employer's return? Or were there other +reasons? + + +“You will remember” [began the next sentence of the letter], “writing +him some time ago, while he and I were in Nevada, asking his advice +concerning some corporation, the stock of which a friend of yours was +considering, either as a purchase or sale, I do not remember which.” + + +Galusha closed his eyes and passed an agitated hand across his forehead. +His question was answered; there WERE other reasons. + + +“You may not be aware” [the letter continued], “of the forest fire +which, on April seventeenth, destroyed the sanitarium and camps in which +Mr. Cabot and I were staying. The entire institution, including our own +camp, was burned and with it were destroyed all my business records, +letters received, copies of letters sent, etc. At the time we were not +at all concerned with this loss, being fearful of the effect which +the excitement might have upon Mr. Cabot's health. I am glad to say, +however, that the effect, if any, was not injurious. But the loss of all +correspondence, including that with you, is now causing some annoyance. +My recollection is that I advised your friend not to buy any stock of +the nature you described, or, if he owned any, not to attempt a forced +sale. As we have heard nothing further from you since, and as neither +our Mr. Minor nor Mr. Barbour report your consulting them on the +subject, I take it your interest in the matter is closed.” + + +Again Galusha leaned back in his chair. But this time he drew a long +breath of relief. Mr. Thomas “took it” that his interest in the matter +was closed, did he? Well, it was, indeed it was. The sole interest he +now had in the Wellmouth Development Company was to forget it utterly. + +And yet, if it was not concerning the Development matter that Thomas was +writing, what was it? The beatific smile which had followed the sigh of +relief faded from his face and he began to read again. + + +“In looking over your affairs which, among others, have kept me very +busy since my return, I find,” wrote Thomas, “that Mr. Barbour, at your +request, sent you a check on March 13th, for fourteen thousand three +hundred and ten dollars and thirty-eight cents, the same being your +share of the Tinplate reorganization profits. On March 15th, you came +personally to this office and exchanged that check for five thousand +dollars in cash and another check for ninety-three hundred and ten +dollars and thirty-eight cents. On March 24th, according to our records, +you again came in person and exchanged this new check for eighty-two +hundred dollars in cash and a third check for eleven hundred and ten +dollars and thirty-eight cents. This third check we do not find has as +yet been presented for payment nor has it been deposited to your account +with us. Considering the lapse of time since the check was drawn, this +seems somewhat unusual and so I am writing to ask concerning it. Mr. +Cabot wishes me to add, also, that as thirteen thousand, two hundred +dollars, the amount of cash drawn by you on the two occasions mentioned, +is a large sum, he is, as your financial guardian--this is the term he +requests me to use--a trifle anxious concerning it. He cannot, he says, +conceive of a use to which you could put such a sum, particularly in +your present location on the Cape. He wishes me to ask you to write him +particulars in the matter. To his request I am adding my own concerning +the missing check. A prompt reply will greatly oblige us both. +Apologizing for the inconvenience which this may cause you, and with Mr. +Cabot's sincere regards and good wishes, I am, + +“Yours respectfully, + +“GEORGE L. THOMAS.” + + +Mr. Bangs' smiles, beatific or otherwise, had so far vanished by this +time that he could not summon them again that day. He attempted to +appear cheerful during supper that evening and breakfast next morning, +but it was a sorrowful cheer. Martha asked if he was sick. He said he +was not, indeed no, really, but she looked as if she did not believe +him. Primmie's suspicions of dropsy, or some equally distressing +ailment, revived. She watched him for signs of relapse. + +The letter requested an immediate reply. That reply was neither written +nor sent. Mr. Bangs could not think of a reply which would embrace the +two elements, safety and sanity. It was impossible to tell the truth +and dangerous to attempt to tell anything else. So he did not answer the +Thomas letter. + +In a week he received a second one, asking if he had gotten the first. +This simply HAD to be acknowledged, so he did so. He wrote that his +friend was no longer interested in the stock concerning which he had +inquired. Also he returned the check for the balance of the Tinplate +payment--it had been lying in his bureau drawer ever since he brought +it from Boston--but he made no mention of what he had done with the +eighty-two hundred dollars in cash nor the five thousand which he had +previously drawn. He did not refer to these sums at all. He requested +that the check for the Tinplate balance be deposited to his account and +sent it in the envelope with his letter to Thomas. Then he fearfully +awaited the next blow. + +It came, and in a new fashion, about a week later. He and Martha were in +the sitting room after supper when the telephone bell rang. + +“Pardon me, Miss Martha,” said Galusha, “but wasn't that our--I should +say your ring?” + +Martha smiled. “I didn't notice,” she said. “You're always thinkin' you +hear our ring, Mr. Bangs. The last time you heard it and called me to +the 'phone, it turned out to be Emulous Dodd, the undertaker. He said, +'I don't want you.' I told him I was thankful for that.” + +Her lodger shook his head. “I'm very sorry,” he said. “These telephone +calls down here--'Two long and three short' and--ah--the like--they +do confuse me, I admit. I really can't seem to get accustomed to them. +Now... Oh, but that IS your ring, isn't it, Miss Martha?” + +It was. Martha took down the receiver. + +“Yes... yes,” she said. “Yes, this is Phipps.... Oh, all right.... The +girl says it's a long-distance call,” she added, turning to Galusha. +“Who can be callin' ME from long distance?... Yes... yes.... This is +Miss Phipps speakin' now.... Who?... Oh, Mr. Bangs? Yes, he's right +here. It's for you, Mr. Bangs.” + +Galusha took the receiver from her hand. “Ah--hello!” he hailed. The +wire buzzed and sang. Then, in his ear and with surprising clearness and +nearness, a voice said, brusquely: “Hello! Hello, there! Is that you, +Loosh?” + +Galusha recognized the voice. He had not heard it for a long time, but +he recognized it at once. And, recognizing it, something like panic +seized him. + +“Hello!” shouted the voice again. “Hello, Galusha! Is that you?” + +Galusha glanced fearfully over his shoulder. Martha was gazing at him. +She looked alarmed. + +“Oh, what is it, Mr. Bangs?” she asked. “It--it's not bad news, is it?” + +“No--ah--no,” he faltered. “I--I--” + +“Eh? What's that?” demanded the voice in the receiver, impatiently. +“Hello! Who is this, anyway?” + +“Is there somebody sick or--or anything?” asked Martha. “No--no, Miss +Martha. It's all right, really. Yes, indeed, I--Oh, quite right. Yes.” + +“But you look so frightened.” + +“Do I? Oh, not in the least. That is, I... Yes, yes, I hear. Yes, this +is Bangs speaking.” + +“Oh, it is! Well, I'm glad you're speaking at last. You're Galusha +Bangs, you say?” + +“Yes. Yes, I--I think so.” + +“You THINK so! That's good! Don't you know whether you are or not?” + +“I meant I--I thought I said so. I am Galusha Bangs. Yes.” + +“Good! Then we've settled so much. You know who I am, of course?” + +Did he? Oh, if he only did not! He cast another alarmed glance in his +landlady's direction. He wondered if the voice which was so distinctly +audible in his ear could be heard and understood in the room. Oh, this +was dreadful, dreadful! + +“HELLO!” roared the voice again. “Hello, Bangs! Are you there?” + +“Oh, yes--ah--yes. I am here. Quite so--yes.” + +“Well, I'm glad. I thought you might have gone clamming or something. +Well, I asked if you knew who this was? Do you?” + +Galusha swallowed, shut his eyes, and then faced the inevitable. + +“It--it is Cousin Gussie, isn't it?” he faltered. + +He heard, or imagined that he did, a little gasp of surprise from Miss +Phipps. He did not dare look again in her direction. + +“That's right,” said the voice. “You're a good guesser. How are you, +anyway?” + +Galusha stammered that he was very well. He added that he was glad to +see his relative. The relative promptly observed that his eyesight must +be remarkably good. + +“You know what I've called you up for, of course?” she added. + +Martha had risen and was leaving the room on tiptoe. + +“You and your cousin can talk better alone, I know,” she whispered. “I +want to see Primmie a minute, anyway.” + +Her lodger regarded her mutely. The expression of dumb misery on his +face caused her to pause for an instant. + +“You're SURE there's no bad news, Mr. Bangs?” she asked, anxiously. + +He managed to smile, but the smile was not a convincing success. +“Oh, yes--ah--quite, quite,” he protested. “It--it is--ah--extremely +pleasant, really.... Yes--yes, Cousin Gussie, I am--I am still here.” + +“Oh, you are! Fine! I thought probably you had gone to dig another +quahaug. Why don't you answer letters?” + +Galusha glanced desperately at the kitchen door. Thank heaven, it was +closed. + +“I answered yours,” he declared. + +“You did not. You only half answered it. That idiot Barbour sent you a +check for over fourteen thousand dollars. Of course, if I had been well +and here he wouldn't have done any such fool thing. He says you told him +to.” + +“Ah--did I?” + +“Did you? Don't you know whether you did or not? Well, never mind. +You came up here on two separate occasions, so they tell me, and drew +thirteen thousand of that in cash and took it away with you. Now what on +earth did you do that for?” + +Galusha did not answer. Cabot immediately demanded to know if he was +still there. Assured of this, he repeated his question. + +“I--I wanted it,” faltered Galusha. + +“You WANTED it! Wanted thirteen thousand two hundred dollars in cash +down there on the clam flats? What did you want it FOR?” + +“I--I--Well, you see--you see--” + +“No, I don't see. Now, look here, old man: I realize you're of age and +that your money is your own, and all that. It isn't, legally speaking, +one single bit my business if you take every cent you've got and sink it +in the middle of Cape Cod Bay. But I promised your aunt before she died +that I would try and see that you didn't do that kind of thing. She knew +you couldn't take care of money; I knew it; why, confound it, you knew +it, too! You and I talked that whole matter over and we agreed I wasn't +to give you any large sums of your money, no matter how hard you begged +for them, unless you told me why you wanted them and I was satisfied it +was all right. Didn't we agree to that? Isn't that so?” + +“Why--why, yes, Cousin Gussie. You have been very kind. I appreciate it, +I assure you.” + +“Oh, be hanged! I haven't been kind. I've only been trying to keep you +from being TOO kind to people who work you for a good thing, that's all. +Look here, Loosh: _I_ know what you've done with that thirteen thousand +dollars.” + +Galusha shot one more pitiful glance in the direction of the kitchen. + +“Ah--ah--do you?” he stammered. + +“Yes. You've given it away, haven't you?” + +“Well--well, you see--” + +“You have? I knew it! And I know whom you've given it to.” + +There was no answer to be made to this appalling assertion. Poor Galusha +merely clung to the receiver and awaited his death sentence. + +“You've given it to some mummy-hunter to fit out another grave-robbing +expedition. Now, haven't you?” + +“Why--why--” + +“Be a sport now, Loosh! Tell me the truth. That's what you've done, +isn't it?” + +Galusha hesitated, closing his eyes, struggled with his better +nature, conquered it, and faltered: “Why--why--in a way of speaking, I +suppose--” + +“I knew it! I bet Minor a dinner on it. Well, confound you, Loosh; don't +you realize they're only working you for what they can get out of you? +Haven't I told you not to be such an ass? You soft-headed old... Here! +What's the matter with this wire? Hello, Central! Hello!...” + +The Cabot oration broke off in the middle and was succeeded by a series +of rattles and thumps and jingles like a barrel of kitchenware falling +downstairs; this was followed by a startling stillness, which was, in +turn, broken by an aggrieved voice wailing: “Say, Central, why can't I +get that twenty-seven ring fourteen Bayport? I bet you you've given me +every other d----number on Cape Cod!” + +Galusha hung up the receiver. Then he sat down in the rocker and gazed +at the opposite wall. His secret was safe. But that safety he had bought +at the price of another falsehood--told to Cousin Gussie this time. +He did not seem to be the same Galusha Cabot Bangs at all. That +Galusha--the former Galusha--had considered himself a gentleman and +would no more have told a lie than he would have stolen his neighbor's +spoons. This one--his present self--lied not only once but twice and +thrice. He told one untruth to cover another. He lived in an atmosphere +of blackest falsehood and deception. The sole ray of light in the +darkness was the knowledge that Martha Phipps did not know his real +character. She considered him honest and truthful. In order that she +might continue to think him so, he would go on prevaricating forever, if +necessary. + +It preyed upon his conscience, nevertheless. The thought uppermost in +his mind was expressed in a reply which he made to a question asked by +Mr. Bloomer on an afternoon of that week. Zach and Primmie were, as so +often happened, involved in an argument and, as also so often happened, +they called on him to act as referee. + +“We was talkin' about names, Mr. Bangs,” explained Primmie. “He's always +makin' fun of my name. I told him my name was pretty enough to get put +into poetry sometimes. You know--” + +“I told her,” broke in Zach, solemnly, but with a wink at Galusha, +“that the only thing I could think of to rhyme with 'Primrose' was 'Jim +Crows.'” + +“I never said it rhymed,” protested Miss Cash, hotly. “You can have +your name in poetry without its rhymin', I guess likely. You're always +tellin' me about how 'Zacheus he, climbed up a tree--' Now if your name +had to rhyme 'twould have to be--er--er--well, nothing',” triumphantly; +“'cause nothin' COULD rhyme with Zacheus.” + +Mr. Bloomer, solemn as ever, shook his head. + +“Yes, it could,” he declared. “What's the name of that plant Lulie's got +in the settin' room window over home? The one with the prickers on it. +Cat-tailed--no, rat-tailed--um--” + +“Cactus.” Galusha supplied the word. + +“That's it,” said Zach. “That would do it. + + + 'Old man Zach'us + Shinned up a cactus--' + + +Have to step lively, wouldn't he?” he added, with a chuckle. + +Primmie sniffed. “Silly!” she retorted. “What was that pretty piece of +poetry you told me the other day that had my name in it, Mr. Bangs? The +one about it bein' so and so and not much else? You know the one.” + +Galusha obliged. + + + “'A primrose by the river's brim + A yellow primrose was to him, + And it was nothing more.'” + + +“There!” said Primmie, triumphantly. “Do you hear that, Zach Bloomer? +That's poetry, the real kind. And it's got my name in it, too.” + +Zach shook his head. + +“You ain't a yellow primrose, Posy,” he said. “You're a red one-red and +speckled. Mr. Bangs,” he added, before the outraged Primmie could reply, +“I think consider'ble about names, havin' such a out-of-common sort of a +one myself. I never heard your name afore.... Galusha.... Godfreys! Was +you named for somebody in the family?” + +“Yes.” + +“I see. Yes, yes. Most generally names like that, the tough ones, +come out of the Bible in the fust place. Is your name in Scriptur' +anywheres?” + +“I don't know. I--ah--presume I should, but I don't.” + +“Um-hm. Queer names in the Bible.... Um-hm. And some good ones, too.... +I've always been a good deal interested in names. Used to set around +hours at a stretch, when I was aboard the old lightship, and try to pick +out what name in Scriptur' I cal'lated I'd ruther be called. Finally +I got down to two--John and Paul. Both of 'em short and sensible, no +frills to 'em. Of the two I figgered maybe Paul would fit me best. Paul, +he was shipwrecked one time, you remember, and I've been wrecked no +less'n three.... Paul.... Um-hm.... Say, Mr. Bangs, have you ever tried +to fit yourself with a Bible name?” + +Galusha smiled and said he never had. Primmie, who had been silent for +almost three minutes, could remain so no longer. + +“I think Solomon would be the right name for you, Mr. Bangs,” she cried, +enthusiastically. “You know such a terrible lot--about some kinds of +things.” This last a hasty addition. + +Zach snorted. “Solomon!” he repeated. “Dan Beebe--Ras Beebe's cousin +over to Trumet--named his boy Solomon, and last week they took the +young-one up to the State home for feeble-minded. What name would you +pick out of the Bible for yourself, Mr. Bangs?” + +It was then that Galusha made the reply to which reference has been +made. His smile changed and became what Primmie described as “one of his +one-sided ones.” + +“Ah--um--well--Ananias, perhaps,” he said, and walked away. + +Zach and Miss Cash stared after him. Of course, it was the latter who +spoke first. + +“Ananias!” she repeated. “Why, Ananias was the feller that--that lied so +and was struck down dead. I remember him in Sunday school. Him and his +wife Sophrony. Seems to me 'twas Sophrony; it might have been Maria, +though. But, anyhow, they died lyin'.” + +“That so? I thought they lied dyin'.” + +“Oh, be still! But what did Mr. Bangs pick out THAT name for--of all +names? Can you tell me that?” + +Zacheus could not, of course, nor did he attempt it. Instead, he rose +and gazed sadly at his companion. + +“He said it for a joke, Buttercups,” he observed. “Joke. YOU know, a +joke. One of them things that--I tell you what: You look up 'joke' in +the dictionary and then, after you've found out what 'tis, I'll lend you +a patent-medicine almanac with one or two of 'em in it.... Well, I've +got to be gettin' under way. So long, Posy.” + +Possibly Primmie might have inquired further into the reasons which +led the Phipps' lodger to select for himself the name of the person +who “died lying,” but that very afternoon, while on an errand in the +village, she heard the news that Nelson Howard had been offered a +position as operator at the Trumet wireless station, had accepted +and was already there and at work. Every professional gossip in East +Wellmouth was talking about it, not only because of its interest as a +piece of news, but because of the astonishing fact that no one but those +intimately interested had previously known of the offer. + +“Why in the world,” said Becky Blount, expressing the opinion of what +Captain Jethro Hallett would have called her “tribe,” “he felt 'twas +necessary to hide it as if 'twas something to be ashamed of, _I_ don't +see. Most folks would have been proud to be offered such a chance. +But that Nelse Howard's queer, anyhow. Stuck-up, I call him; and Lulie +Hallett's the same way. She nor him won't have anything to do with +common folks in this town. And it'll be worse NOW.” + +This was quite untrue, of course, for Lulie and Nelson were extremely +friendly with all except the Blounts, Marietta Hoag, and a few more of +their kind. The solid, substantial people in the village liked them, +just as they liked and respected Martha Phipps. These people took pains +to congratulate young Howard and to whisper a hope to Lulie that her +father's unreasonable opposition to the former might be lessened by the +news of his advancement. + +Primmie, returning home with the sensation, was disappointed to find it +no sensation at all. Lulie had told both Miss Phipps and Galusha shortly +after Nelson told her. She had told her father also, but he had not +expressed gratification. Instead, the interview between them had ended +unpleasantly. + +“The first thing he did,” said Lulie, when telling the story to her +confidants at the Phipps' home, “was to ask me how I knew about it. I +told him that Nelson told me.” + +Martha lifted her brows. “My!” she exclaimed. “You did?” + +“Yes, I did. I don't know why exactly. Somehow I felt just then as if I +didn't care.” + +“And what did he say?” + +“He didn't say as much as I thought he would. He turned and stared at +me under those big eyebrows of his, and then he said: 'When did you see +him?' I said, 'Yesterday.' 'When did you see him before that?' I said, +'About a week ago. Nelson and I usually see each other about once a +week, father,' I told him.” + +“My!” exclaimed Martha, again. “That was plain enough, to be sure.” + +“Yes, wasn't it? I wonder now that I had the courage. He didn't flare up +as I expected he would, as I am sure he would have done last fall, for +instance. He just looked and looked at me. Then he said: 'Are you really +planning to marry that fellow, Lulie?' I thought that as I had gone so +far, I might as well go the rest, so I said: 'Yes, father, some day. +Not as long as you want me or need me, but some day, if he is willing +to wait for me.' He just kept on pulling his beard and looking at me. +At last, when he did speak, he asked, 'In spite of me and--and your +mother?' It made me feel dreadfully wicked; I almost cried, I guess. But +I had to go through with it then, so I said: 'I don't want to marry “in +spite” of any one, father. You know I don't. And I shall never leave +you--never. But can't you PLEASE see Nelson as he is and not--and not--' +He interrupted me there; in fact, I doubt if he heard me. 'Your mother +has warned me against that young fellow,' he said. 'You know she has, +Lulie.' 'I know you THINK she has, father,' I said.” + +Martha's hands fell in her lap. Galusha shook his head. + +“Dear me!” he observed. “Dear me!” + +Lulie nodded. “Yes, I know,” she said. “As soon as I said it I thought +'Dear me,' too. But I don't believe he heard that, either. He seemed +to be thinking and didn't speak for ever so long. Then he said, 'The +revelations from above ain't to be set aside. No, no, they lay a duty on +us.' Then he stopped again and turned and walked away. The last words he +said, as he was going out of the room, were, 'Don't let me ever see that +Howard around this house. You hear me?' And that is the way it ended. He +hasn't mentioned the subject since. But, at least,” said Lulie, with an +attempt at a smile, “he didn't call Nelson a 'swab.' I suppose that is +some comfort.” + +Martha and Galusha agreed that it was. The latter said: “It seems to +me that you may consider it all quite encouraging, really. It is only +the--ah--spirits which stand in the way now.” + +“Yes, but oh, Mr. Bangs, they always will stand in the way, I'm afraid. +Other things, real things or real people we might change or persuade, +but how can you change a--a make-believe spirit that isn't and never +was, except in Marietta Hoag's ridiculous imagination? Oh, Martha,” she +added, “you and Mr. Bangs don't think I'm horrid to speak like this, +do you? Of course, if I believed, as father does, that it was really my +mother's spirit speaking, I should--well, I should be.... But what is +the use? I CAN'T believe such a thing.” + +“Of course you can't, child,” said Martha. “I knew your mother and if +she was comin' back to this earth she wouldn't do it through Marietta +Hoag's head. She had too much self-respect for that.” + +Galusha stroked his chin. “I suppose,” he said, “if there were some +way in which we might influence that imagination of Miss--ah--Hoag's, a +change might be brought about. It would be difficult to reach the said +imagination, however, wouldn't it? I once found a way to reach a tomb +of the XIIIth Dynasty which had been buried for thousands of years under +thirty-three feet of rock and sand. I located it by accident--that is, +in a way, it was an accident; of course, we had been searching for some +time. I happened to strike the earth at a certain point with my camera +tripod and it sounded quite hollow. You see, there was a--ah--sort of +shaft, as one might say, which came quite close to the surface at that +point. It sounded surprisingly hollow, like a--like something quite +empty, you know. Yes.” + +Martha nodded. “If you struck Marietta's head anywhere,” she observed, +“it would sound the same way. She's got about as much brains as a punkin +lantern.” + +“Yes--ah--yes, but I fear we should gain little by doing that. We +shouldn't get at our 'spirit' that way. But perhaps we may find a way. +There are obstacles, but there were obstacles above and about that tomb +also. Dear me, yes. We must consider, Miss Lulie; we must, so to speak, +consider.” + +His advice to Nelson was similar. + +“I should say the situation was a bit more encouraging, Mr. Howard,” + he said. They had been discussing Lulie's talk with her father. Nelson +nodded. + +“Perhaps it is, a little bit,” he admitted. “It seems barely possible +that the old man is not quite as bitter against me as he was. For +instance, I met him yesterday at the post office and said 'Good-morning, +Cap'n Jeth.' I always speak to him whenever I meet him, make it a point +to, but he never speaks to me. He didn't speak yesterday, but he did +bow. It was more of a bob than a bow and he looked savage enough to bite +me; but, at least, he went so far as to show he knew I was on earth. +That was rather funny, too, his doing that. I wonder why he did.” + +Galusha reflected a moment. Then he said: “I shouldn't be greatly +surprised if your new position at the radio station may be the cause, +Captain Hallett is--ah--not unmindful of success in business. Miss +Mar--ah--that is, Miss Phipps says he is a very shrewd business man. +My own experience,” he added, meditatively, “would lead me to that +conclusion, also.” + +Nelson was surprised. + +“Have you had business dealings with the cap'n?” he asked. “I never +thought of you as a business man, Mr. Bangs.” + +Galusha started and seemed embarrassed. + +“Oh--ah--ah--I'm not, Mr. Howard,” he declared, hastily. “Indeed, no.” + +“But you spoke of your business experience with Cap'n Jeth; or I thought +you did.” + +The little archaeologist looked very solemn. + +“Such experiences as I have had with Captain Hallett,” he observed, +“have been--ah--most unbusinesslike.” + +They parted a few minutes later. Said Nelson, gloomily: + +“I'm afraid the situation hasn't changed a whole lot, after all, Mr. +Bangs. Cap'n Jeth may think more of my new job than he did of my old +one, but he doesn't think any better of me as a son-in-law. And he +won't, so long as he believes in that fool spirit stuff.” + +Galusha stroked his chin. “We must consider those spirits, Mr. Howard,” + he said. “Dear me, yes; we must seriously consider those spirits.” + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +August is the banner month at all northern seaside resorts. August at +East Wellmouth crowded the Restabit Inn to overflowing. On pleasant +Sundays the long line of cars flying through the main road of the +village on the way to Provincetown met and passed the long line +returning Bostonward. The sound of motor horns echoed along the lane +leading to Gould's Bluffs. Galusha found it distinctly safer and less +nerve-racking to walk on the grass bordering that lane than in the lane +itself, as had hitherto been his custom. The harassed Zacheus led more +visitors than ever up and down the lighthouse stairs, expressing his +opinion of those visitors, after their departure, with fluency and +freedom. Mr. Bloomer's philosophy helped him through most annoyances but +it broke down under the weight of the summer boarder and his--or--her +questions. + +Galusha, in his daily walks, kept far afield, avoiding the traveled +ways. His old resort, the Baptist cemetery, he seldom visited now, +having examined and re-examined all the interesting stones within its +borders. He had discovered another ancient burial ground, over on the +South Wellmouth road, and occasionally his wanderings took him as far as +that. The path to and from this cemetery led over the edge of the bluff +and wound down to the beach by the creek and landlocked harbor where his +hat--the brown derby--had put to sea that Sunday morning in the previous +October. The path skirted the creek for a little way, then crossed on a +small bridge and climbed the pine-clad hills on the other side. + +Late one afternoon in August, Galusha, returning along this path, met +a man coming in the other direction. The man was a stranger to him +and obviously not a resident of East Wellmouth. He was a stout, +prosperous-looking individual, well-dressed and with a brisk manner. +When Mr. Bangs first saw him he was standing at a point near the foot +of the bluff, and gazing intently at the view. Galusha turned the corner +above the bridge where the path re-entered the pine grove. When he +emerged again the man had walked on to the little rise by the farther +edge of the creek. He was standing there, as he had stood at the point +where Galusha first noticed him, looking about, up and down the creek, +across the little harbor, at the beaches, the sand cliffs, the pines and +the sea. + +Galusha crossed the bridge and approached along the path. The stranger +heard his step and turned. + +“Good-afternoon,” said Galusha. + +The man nodded and returned the greeting. + +“Nice view from here,” he observed. Galusha agreed that the view was +very nice, indeed. He passed on and turned to climb the bluff. Then the +stranger called to him. + +“Excuse me,” he said. “But may I ask you a question or two? Don't want +to keep you if you are in a hurry, though.” + +Galusha declared himself to be not in the least hurried. The man walked +toward him. + +“Are you acquainted about here?” he asked. + +“Why--why--ah--yes, to some extent. Yes.” + +“I mean do you know the lay of the land in this vicinity?” + +“Why--ah--yes, I think so. Fairly well.” + +“I see. Can you tell me how much water there is in that channel out +yonder?” He pointed toward the mouth of the inlet, where the two lines +of creaming breakers approached each other, but did not meet. + +“No--no, I am sorry, but I can't.” + +“How deep is it off here opposite where we're standing?” + +“Dear me! I'm afraid I don't know that, either. When you asked +concerning the lay of the land I didn't understand you meant +the--ah--lay of the water. I'm very sorry.” + +The man laughed. “That's all right,” he said. “Asked my question the +wrong way, didn't I? Well, tell me a little about the land, then. Are +the woods the other side of that hill or only on this?” + +Galusha informed him concerning the extent of the pine grove. The +stranger asked some questions about the course of the creek above the +bridge, the distance from the main highway, whether the land beyond the +hill was settled or unoccupied. His final question was concerning the +Restabit Inn. + +“Any other hotels around here within ten miles?” he asked. When told +there were not, he merely nodded, making no comment. + +“Well, I'm much obliged,” he said. “I was just loafing around and a +little curious, that's all. Thanks. Hope I haven't kept you too long. +Good-day.” + +Galusha followed the winding path up the face of the high bluff. When, +having reached its top, he paused to get fresh breath in place of that +he had lost, he looked down and saw his questioner standing where he had +left him and, apparently, still admiring the view. + +The following afternoon they saw each other again. This time the +stranger was on the other side of the creek, wandering about at the +edge of the pine grove. He acknowledged Galusha's bow with a wave of the +hand, but he did not come nearer to ask more questions. + +That evening, at the supper table, Mr. Bangs mentioned the meeting. +Primmie, who prided herself upon knowing every visitor in town and where +he or she came from, was ready with the information in this case. + +“I know who he is,” she declared. “His name's Williams and him and his +wife's stoppin' at the Restabit. They never meant to stay there only one +night, but his automobile blowed up or busted out somethin' and they had +to send to Boston to get a new one. It's a dreadful expensive kind of +a one, the auto is, one of them--them Pieced-Arrows, all upholstery +and drapery window curtains and places to put bouquets and your feet in +winter to warm 'em--your feet, I mean, not the bouquets--and--” + +“There, there, Primmie,” said Martha. “That will do. For mercy sakes, +how did you find out all that?” + +“Their chauffeur told me. I know him, too. Him and me was introduced +last night when he stopped in to get a drink of water. His name is +Kelly, and he--” + +“Wait a minute. When you and he were introduced, you say? Who introduced +you?” + +“Why, he did, Miss Martha. You see, he was comin' along by and he see +me out settin' on the side steps, you know. And he stopped and he says: +'You look lonesome' he says. 'Well,' says I, 'I may LOOK so, but I +ain't; my savin' soul, no!' Then he wanted to know if he couldn't have a +drink of water and, of course--” + +“Yes, I see--of course. I think you had better sit in the house this +evenin', Primmie.” + +The “Pieced-Arrow” car, with Mr. Kelly on the driver's seat and Mr. and +Mrs. Williams inside, left East Wellmouth at the end of that week. Yet +once more before the season closed Galusha fancied that he caught a +glimpse of that car's owner. The time was the first week in September +and Galusha, returning later than usual along the path from South +Wellmouth, saw two figures walking along the beach of the inlet. They +were a good way off, but one certainly did resemble Williams as he +remembered him. The brisk step was like his and the swing of the heavy +shoulders. The other figure had seemed familiar, too, but it disappeared +behind a clump of beach-plum bushes and did not come out again during +the time that Galusha remained in sight. On reflection the latter +decided that he was mistaken. Of course, Williams could not be one of +the pair, having left the Cape. It was too dark to see plainly; and, +after all, it made little difference whether it was he or not. Mr. Bangs +stopped speculating on the subject and promptly forgot it entirely. + +On the morning after Labor Day there was a general exodus of city +sojourners from the Inn and on September 15 it closed its doors. The +weather was still beautiful and mild, even more so than during the +previous month, but East Wellmouth's roads and lanes were no longer +crowded. The village entered upon its intermediate season, that autumn +period of quiet and restful beauty, which those who know and love the +Cape consider most delightful of the year. + +Galusha enjoyed its beauties hugely. He could stroll where he pleased +now and no charging and bellowing motor car was likely to awaken him +from his daydreams and cause him to leap frantically into the gutter. +Sunsets over the western dunes and the Bay were hazily wonderful +fantasies of crimson and purple and gold and sapphire, with the nets +and poles of the distant fish weirs scattered here and there about the +placid water like bits of fairy embroidery. And then to end his walk by +turning in at the Phipps' gate; the lamplight in the cozy dining room +shining a welcome and Martha's pleasant, attractive face above the +teacups. It was like coming home, like coming to a real home, his home. +He dreaded to think of leaving it--even for his loved science and the +promised “great plan” which the Institute people were to present him +that very fall or winter. + +He had heard nothing further from them concerning the plan, but he knew +he was likely to hear at any moment. He was well, perfectly well now, +and stronger than he had been for a long, long time. He felt himself +abundantly able to take charge of an exploring expedition, or to +reorganize a department, to do anything which the Institute might ask +him to do. His guess was that the plan was for another archaeological +expedition, one to go farther afield and equipped for more thorough +research than any yet sent out. He himself had urged the need of such an +expedition many times, but when the war came all such ideas were given +up. The giving up had been, on his part, although he realized the +necessity which prompted it and even urged the yielding to that +necessity, a bitter disappointment. + +And now--well, now he could not seem to arouse an atom of real +enthusiasm. He should be too excited to sleep, but he did sleep well. +When he dreamed of Egypt and the tombs of the Ptolemies, there was +always a Cape Cod cottage in the foreground. And the cottage never +varied in design; it was always the “Phipps' place,” and its mistress +was always standing in the doorway. That was the great trouble, he knew +it. He was going to be homesick for that cottage and its contents. If +they might only be transferred with him to Egypt, then the land of the +Pharaohs would be even more paradisical than he used to think it. + +He told Martha of the promised plan and its call to duty. Oddly enough, +thereafter they discussed it but little. Other subjects, although +mere commonplaces, they seemed to find more interesting. One evening, +however, they were together in the sitting room and Martha said: + +“I noticed you got a letter from Washin'ton to-day, Mr. Bangs.” + +Galusha nodded. “Yes,” he said. “It wasn't a letter exactly. Merely +another of the regular reports, that is all.” + +“I see.... Well, I suppose you will be hearin' from them pretty soon +about--about that other matter. The plan they told you they had for +you.” + +He nodded again. “Dear me, yes,” he agreed. “I suppose I shall.” + +“Why do you say 'Dear me'? You want to hear, don't you? It will be a +wonderful thing for you, I should think. It is sure to be somethin' you +will like, because they said so in their letter.” + +“Yes--ah--yes.” + +Both were silent for a brief interval, then Martha said: + +“I presume likely I shall be sittin' here in this very room this winter, +doin' just the very same thing I'm doin' now, knittin' or sewin', +with everything just as it is, cat and plants and Primmie and all the +everyday things I've been amongst all my life. And you'll be away off, +goodness knows where, among goodness knows what sorts of queer people +and queer places.... Well,” she added, with a smile, “you won't have any +one to fret you about whether you put on rubbers or not. That'll be a +comfort for you, at any rate.” + +He did not seem to find great comfort in the prospect. + +“I shall not put them on,” he said. “I know I sha'n't. I shall forget +all about them, and forget to eat at regular times, and to--ah--keep +my head covered in the sun. Why, do you know,” he added, in a burst of +confidence and quite as if he had not said the same thing before, +“when I am by myself I always forget things like that, things that real +people--ah--normal people, remember. Then I have--ah--indigestion and +headaches and all sorts of miserable ailments. I shall forget again, of +course, and my friends, the normal ones, will tell me, as they always +do, that I need a--ah--keeper, so to speak. Oh, dear, yes.” + +She was indignant. “A keeper!” she repeated. “The idea! I do wish you +wouldn't keep speakin' of yourself as simple-minded or crazy, Mr. Bangs. +You are absent-minded, I know, but what of it? Whose business is that?” + +He rubbed his chin. “Why, here,” he observed, smiling slightly, “you +have been kind enough to make it YOUR business, Miss Martha. The reason +I do not have--ah--sunstrokes and colds and headaches here is that you +take pains to see that I am protected against their causes. I realize +that. And I realize, too,” he added, “that in Egypt I shall miss +your--your great kindness. I shall miss all this--this room and +all--very much, indeed. I think--no, I know I have never spent such a +pleasant year as this has been. And I fear I shall never spend another +as pleasant.” + +She laughed, but she looked pleased, nevertheless. + +“Nonsense!” she exclaimed. “You'll have many more a great deal +pleasanter, of course. You're well now, Mr. Bangs, and good health makes +such a difference. You will enjoy your work more than ever.” + +“Will I? I don't believe I shall. That is very odd, I know, but I +think it is true. I have been thinking about it a great deal of late +and--ah--I--well, you know, I am very sure I shall be lonely.” + +“Lonely? You! Lonesome over in Egypt, after all you've told me about +your lovin' it so, Mr. Bangs! Lonesome for what, for mercy sakes?” + +“Why, for--for the Cape, you know; and this house and this pleasant room +and--and the kindness which has been shown me here.” + +“Don't. What do what you call kindnesses amount to--the little things +Primmie and I have been able to do for you--what do they amount to +compared to what you did for me? I shouldn't be in this house, I +shouldn't own it, if it wasn't for the interest you took and the trouble +you went to. Lonesome! I think I'M goin' to be the real lonesome one +this winter. Since you've been livin' here, Mr. Bangs, I've had a chance +to talk of somethin' beside the little two-for-a-cent things that most +of us Gould's Bluffs people have to talk about from December to +June. I've had the chance to talk about somethin' besides Primmie's +foolishness or Cap'n Jethro's 'spirits,' or the post office gossip. It +has been wonderful for me. When father was alive no gale that ever blew +could keep him from trampin' up to the office after his mornin' paper. +He used to say that readin' the paper was the only way he could keep +enough canvas drawing to pull him out of the doldrums. More of his sea +talk, that was, of course, but you understand what he meant.” + +Galusha understood. “We all have our--ah--doldrums,” he observed. + +“Yes, seems as if we did. But, there!” briskly picking up her knitting, +“I don't know as it does us much good to sit and talk about 'em. Primmie +had a book around here last week, an old thing, one of Mrs. Southworth's +it was; Primmie borrowed it somewhere. I looked it over one afternoon, +that was as much as I wanted to do with it, and I remember there was +an old woman in it who seemed to spend most of her time dreamin' of +her 'vanished past.' She seemed to worry over that vanished past a good +deal, but, so far as I could see, she didn't gain much by it. She might +have done some plain sewin' and gained more. I can't see that you and I +gain much by sittin' here and frettin' about next winter, Mr. Bangs. I +suppose when winter is really here you will be trottin' around Egypt on +a camel, or some sort of menagerie animal, and I shall be sweepin' and +dustin' and makin' pies. And we both will be too busy to remember we're +lonesome at all. I--Yes, Primmie, what is it?” + +Miss Cash's head and shoulders appeared between the door and the jamb. + +“Miss Martha,” she whispered, hoarsely, “there's somebody come to see +you.” + +“Come to see me? Who is it; Cap'n Jethro?” + +“No'm. It's Raish--I mean Mr. Pulcifer. And,” confidentially, “he won't +tell what he's come for, neither.” + +“And I presume likely you asked him that very thing. Well, bring him +into the dinin' room and tell him I'll be right there. Humph!” she +added, after Primmie had departed, “I wonder what Raish Pulcifer wants +to see me about. I can't imagine, but I guess it isn't likely to be very +important. I'll be back in a few minutes, Mr. Bangs.” + +It was, however, a full half hour before she re-entered the sitting +room, and when she did so there was a puzzled expression on her face. + +“Now, that's funny,” she observed, musingly; “that certainly is funny. +What is he drivin' at, I wonder?” + +“Mr. Pulcifer?” inquired Galusha. + +“Why, yes. He didn't say so in so many words; in fact, he didn't really +say much of anything right out. He wouldn't be Raish Pulcifer if he was +straight and plain. He talked about the weather and how he hadn't seen +me for some time and just thought he'd call, and so on. That was just +greasin' the ways for the launchin', as father would have said. He edged +around and edged around and finally brought up the thing I'm pretty sure +he came to see me about, my two hundred and fifty shares of Wellmouth +Development Company stock.” + +Galusha caught his breath. “Eh?” he exclaimed. + +“Yes; I think he came to see me about just those shares. Of course, he +thinks I've still got them. He talked about his own shares and about the +company in general and how it wasn't likely to amount to much and--oh, +well, never mind; he talked a mile before he gained a foot. But I think, +Mr. Bangs, I THINK he came to see if I would sell him that stock of +mine, and, if I would, what I would sell it for. Considerin' that only a +little while ago he told you he wouldn't touch the Wellmouth Development +stock with a ten-foot pole, that's kind of funny, isn't it?” + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Galusha had some difficulty in falling asleep that night. The habit of +dropping into a peaceful and dreamless slumber within five minutes after +blowing out his lamp, a habit which had been his for the past month, was +broken. He had almost succeeded in forgetting the Wellmouth Development +Company. His distress of mind and conscience concerning his dealings +with it had very nearly vanished also. He had been forced into deceit to +save Martha Phipps from great trouble, and the end justified the means. +Having reached that conclusion in his thinking, he had firmly resolved +to put the whole matter from his mind. + +His one plunge into the pool of finance he had come to believe destined +never to be revealed. No one had mentioned the Development Company or +its stock for weeks. It was, apparently, dead and satisfactorily buried, +and the Bangs' secret was entombed with it. + +And now, if Martha's surmise was correct, here was a “resurrection man,” + in the person of Mr. Horatio Pulcifer, hanging about the cemetery. The +capacity for hating was not in Galusha's make-up. He found it difficult +to dislike any one strongly. But he could come nearer to disliking Raish +Pulcifer than any one else, and now to dislike was added resentment. +Why in the world should this Pulcifer person interfere with his peace of +mind? + +In the morning, and with the bright September sunshine streaming into +the room, his disquietude of the previous night seemed rather foolish. +No doubt Miss Martha had been mistaken; perhaps Horatio had not had any +idea of buying her shares. Martha herself seemed a little doubtful. + +“I've been thinkin' it over,” she said, “and I wonder if I just imagined +that's what he was after. It seems almost as if I must have. I can't +think of any sensible reason why a man who was so dreadfully anxious to +sell, and only a little while ago, should be wantin' to buy now. Perhaps +he didn't mean anything of the kind.” + +Galusha comforted himself with the thought that this was, in all +probability, the truth: Miss Martha had misinterpreted the Pulcifer +purpose; Raish had not meant anything of the kind. + +But the comfort was short-lived. A few days later Doctor Powers called +at the Phipps' home. After he had gone Martha came to the sitting room, +where her lodger was reading the paper, and, closing the door behind +her, said: + +“Mr. Bangs, I guess I was right, after all. Raish Pulcifer WAS hintin' +at buyin' my Wellmouth Development stock.” + +Galusha dropped the paper in his lap. “Oh, dear! I--I mean, dear me!” he +observed. + +“Yes, I guess there isn't much doubt of it. Doctor Powers came here to +tell me that he had sold his shares to him and that Eben Snow and Jim +Henry Willis have sold theirs in the same place. He says he doesn't +know for certain, but he thinks Raish has bought out all the little +stockholders. He's been quietly buyin' the Development stock for the +last week.” + +Mr. Bangs took off his spectacles and put them on again. + +“Good gracious!” he stammered. + +“That's what Doctor Powers says. He stopped in, just as an old friend, +to drop the hint to me, so that I could be ready when Raish came to buy +mine. I asked him what the Pulcifer man was payin' for the stock. He +said as little as he had to, as near as he could find out. Of course, no +one was supposed to tell a word about it--Raish had asked 'em not to do +that--but SOMEBODY told, and then it all began to come out. As a matter +of fact, you might as well ask water to run up hill as to ask Jim Willis +to keep quiet about his own business or keep out of any one else's. The +price paid, so the doctor says he's heard, runs all the way from eight +dollars a share up to fourteen and a half. Poor old Mrs. Badger--Darius +Badger's widow--got the eight dollars. She was somethin' like me, I +guess--had given up the idea of ever gettin' a cent--and so she took +the first offer Raish made her. Eben Snow got the fourteen and a half, +I believe, the highest price. He needed it less than anybody else, which +is usually the way. Doctor Powers sold his for twelve and a half. Said +he thought, when he was doin' it, that he was mighty lucky. Now he +wishes he hadn't sold at all, but had waited. 'Don't sell yours for a +penny less than fifteen, Martha,' he told me. 'There's somethin' up. +Either Raish has heard somethin' and is buyin' for a speculation, +or else he's actin' as somebody else's agent.' What did you say, Mr. +Bangs?” + +Galusha had not said anything; and what he said now was neither +brilliant nor original. + +“Dear me, dear me!” he murmured. Martha looked at him, keenly. + +“Why, what is it, Mr. Bangs?” she asked. “Raish's buyin' the stock won't +make any difference to you, will it?” + +“Eh?... To ME? Why--why, of course not. Dear me, no. Why--ah--how could +it make any difference to me?” + +“I didn't mean you, yourself. I meant to the Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot +people, or whoever it was that bought my stock.” + +“Oh--oh, oh! To them? Oh, yes, yes! I thought for the moment you +referred to me personally. Ha, ha! That would have been very--ah--funny, +wouldn't it? No, I don't think it will make any difference to +Cousin--ah--I mean to the purchasers of your shares. No, no, +indeed--ah--yes. Quite so.” + +If Miss Phipps noticed a slight incoherence in this speech, she did not +comment upon it. Galusha blinked behind his spectacles and passed a hand +across his forehead. His landlady continued her story. + +“I asked Doctor Powers what reason Raish was givin' people for his +buyin'. The doctor said he gave reasons enough, but they weren't very +satisfyin' ones to a thinkin' person. Raish said he owned a big block of +the stock himself and yet it wasn't big enough to give him much say as +to what should be done with the company. Of course, nothin' could be +done with it at present, but still some time there might and so he +thought he might as well be hung for an old sheep as a lamb and buy in +what he could get, provided he could get it cheap enough. He had come to +the doctor first, he said. Ha, ha! That was kind of funny.” + +“Eh?... Oh, yes, certainly.... Of course.” + +“But I haven't told you yet why it was funny. It seems he told every +person he went to that he or she was the first. Doctor Powers prides +himself on bein' a pretty good business man and I guess it provoked him +to find that Raish had fooled him into takin' a lower price than some +of the rest got. He said as much to me. He said that he agreed with what +Raish said, that about he might as well be hung for an old sheep as a +lamb. So long as he WAS hung, so the doctor said, he didn't care what it +was for.” + +She laughed again and her lodger smiled, although rather feebly. He +murmured that it was very amusing. + +“Yes, wasn't it?” said Martha. “Well, the doctor was very anxious that +I should not sell at a cent less than fifteen dollars a share. I wonder +what he, or Raish Pulcifer either, would say if they knew I HAD sold +already, and for as much as father paid, too. Oh, I wonder if Raish +has been to see Cap'n Jeth yet. He won't buy HIS shares for any eight +dollars a piece, he can be sure of that.” + +Galusha nodded; he was sure of it, too. + +“But,” said Martha, ending the conversation for the time, “why do you +suppose Raish is buyin' at all? What is goin' on, anyway?” + +She was by no means the only one who was asking that question. Three +days later Captain Jethro asked Galusha the same thing. They met in the +lane leading to the village and the light keeper approached the subject +without preamble. + +“Say, Mr. Bangs,” he demanded, “what's Raish Pulcifer cal'late he's +doin'?” + +Galusha smiled. “I thank you for the compliment, Captain +Hallett,” he said, “but my intuition cannot keep pace with Mr. +Pulcifer's--ah--calculations. No, indeed.” + +Jethro pulled his beard. “I asked you,” he said, solemnly, “what Raish +Pulcifer cal'lated he was doin' buyin' up Development stock? Do you +know?” + +“No. Is he buying it?” + +“If you ain't heard that he is, you're about the only one in East +Wellmouth. Ain't you heard it?” + +Galusha would have liked to change the subject, but with Jethro Hallett +that was not an easy task, as he knew from experience. He did not +immediately make the attempt. + +“Why--ah--yes,” he admitted. “I have heard that he has +bought--ah--some.” + +“Um-hm. Who told you; Martha?” + +“Why--why--really, Captain, I don't know that I ought--You'll pardon me, +but--” + +“Been tryin' to buy Martha's, has he?” + +Galusha sighed. “Have you noticed,” he suggested, “what a remarkable +view one gets from this point? The village and the bay in front, and, in +the rear, the--ah--light and the--ah--rest. Quite remarkable, don't you +think so, Captain?” + +Captain Jethro looked gravely at the view. + +“Raish been to see Martha about buyin' her stock, has he?” he asked. + +Galusha rubbed his chin. “I have often wondered,” he said, “why no +summer cottage has been built just here. The spot would seem to possess +very marked advantages. Very--ah--very much so.” + +The light keeper cleared his throat. “Zach said he see Raish comin' out +of your gate t'other day,” he said. “Been to see Martha about her shares +then, had he?” + +“The--ah--proximity to the main road is an advantage in particular,” + Galusha continued. “One would be near it and yet, so to speak, secluded +from it. Really, a very exceptional spot, Captain Hallett.” + +Captain Jethro stroked his beard, frowned, and gazed steadily at the +face of the little archaeologist. Galusha gazed serenely and with a +pleased interest at the view. After a moment the light keeper said: +“He's been after mine, too.” + +“Eh?... Oh, indeed? You mean--” + +“I mean Raish Pulcifer's been tryin' to buy my Development stock same as +he has Martha's. Hey? What say?” + +“I said nothing, Captain. Not a word, really” + +“Humph!... Well, he's been tryin' to buy mine, anyway. And, nigh's as +I can find out, he's bought every loose share there is. All hands are +talkin' about it now; some of 'em are wonderin' if they hadn't better +have hung on. Eben Snow came to me this mornin' and he says, 'I don't +know whether I did right to let go of that stock of mine or not,' he +says. 'What do you think, Jeth?' I haven't got much use for Eben, +and ain't had for years; I went to sea with him one v'yage and that +generally tells a man's story. I've seen him at church sociables--in the +days when I wasted my time goin' to such things--spend as much as +five minutes decidin' whether to take a doughnut or a piece of pie. He +couldn't eat both, but he was afraid whichever he took the other might +turn out to be better. So when he asked me my opinion about his sellin' +his Development, I gave it to him. 'You've been wantin' to sell, ain't +you?' says I. 'I've heard you whinin' around for months because you +couldn't sell. Now you HAVE sold. What more do you want?' He got mad. +'You ain't sold YOUR holdin's at any fourteen dollars a share, have +you?' he says. I told him I hadn't. 'No, and I'll bet you won't, +either,' says he. I told him he'd make money if he could get somebody to +take the bet. Humph! the swab!” + +For the first time Galusha asked a direct question. + +“Did--ah--Mr. Pulcifer actually--ah--bid for your Development shares, +Captain Hallett?” he inquired. + +“Oh, he come as nigh to doin' it as I'd let him. Hinted maybe that he'd +give me as much as he did Snow, fourteen fifty. I laughed at him. +I asked him what made him so reckless, when, the last time he and I +talked, he was tryin' to sell me his own shares for ten. And now he +wanted to buy mine at fourteen and a half!” + +“And--ah--what reason did he give for his change of heart? Or didn't he +give any?” + +“Humph! Yes, he gave a shipload of reasons, but there wouldn't any +one of 'em float if 'twas hove overboard. He ain't buyin' on his own +account, that I KNOW.” + +“Oh--ah--do you, indeed. May I ask why you are so certain?” + +“For two reasons. First, because Raish ain't got money enough of his own +to do any such thing. Second, and the main reason why I know he ain't +buyin' for himself is because he says he is. Anybody that knows Raish +knows that's reason enough.” + +Galusha ventured one more question. + +“When he--ah--approached you, did you--that is, what excuse did you give +him for--for your lack of interest, so to speak?” + +“Hey? I didn't give him any. And I didn't tell him I wasn't interested. +I am interested--to see how far he'll go. I sha'n't tell him I've sold +already, Mr. Bangs; your Boston friends needn't worry about that. When I +sign articles I stick to my contract.” + +They had reached the Phipps' gate by this time and there they parted. +The light keeper strode off, rolling heavily, his beard blowing +across his shoulder. He had been, for him, remarkably good-humored and +talkative. Galusha was inclined to attribute the good humor to the fact +that Captain Jethro considered he had made a good bargain in selling his +own shares at a price so much higher than that obtained by Snow and the +rest. The next time they conversed the good humor was not as apparent. +But that occasion was almost a fortnight later. + +And, meantime, Mr. Pulcifer had become the center of interest in East +Wellmouth and its neighborhood. An important figure he always was, +particularly in his own estimation, but now the spotlight of publicity +which beat upon his ample figure had in its rays the blue tinge of +mystery. The question which all Wellmouth was asking was that which +Captain Jethro had asked Mr. Bangs: “What is Raish up to now?” + +And Mr. Pulcifer firmly refused to answer that question. Or, to be +more exact, he always answered it, but the answers were not considered +convincing. Some pretended to be satisfied with his offhand declaration +that he “had a little chunk of the stock and just presumed likely I +might as well have a little more. Ain't nothin' to make a fuss about, +anyhow.” A few pretended to accept this explanation as bona fide, but +the remainder, the majority, received it with open incredulity. + +The oddest part of it all was the fact that the great Horatio appeared +to dislike the prominent position which his activities held in the +community mind. Ordinarily prominence had been the delight of his soul. +In every political campaign, wherever the limelight shone brightest +there had strutted Mr. Pulcifer, cigar in mouth, hat over one eye, +serene self-satisfaction in the possession of mysterious knowledge +radiating from his person. He loved that sort of thing; to be the +possessor of “inside information,” however slight, or even to be +popularly supposed to possess it, had hitherto been the meat upon which +this, Wellmouth's, Caesar, fed and grew great. + +But Raish was not enjoying this particular meal. And his attitude +was not pretense, either; it was obvious that the more East Wellmouth +discussed his buying the Development stock the less he liked it. When +his fellow townsmen questioned him he grew peevish. + +“Oh, forget it!” he exclaimed to one of the unfortunate who came seeking +information. “You make me tired, Jim Fletcher, you and Ras Beebe and the +whole gang. By cripes, a feller can't as much as take a five cent cigar +out of his pocket without all hands tryin' to make a--a molehill out of +it. Forget it, I tell you!” + +Mr. Fletcher was a simple soul, decidedly not one of East Wellmouth's +intellectual aristocracy, but he was persistent. + +“Aw, hold on, Raish,” he expostulated, “I never said a word about your +takin' a five cent cigar out of your pocket.... Er--er--you ain't taken +one out, have you?” + +“No, and I ain't goin' to--not now.” + +“All right--all right. _I_ never asked you. All I said was--” + +“I know what you said.” + +“Why, no, you don't neither. You're all mixed up. Nobody's said anything +about cigars, or makin'--er--er--What was it you said they made?” + +“Oh, nothin', nothin'. A molehill is what I said.” + +“What kind of a hill?” + +“A molehill. Didn't you ever hear of a ground mole, for heaven sakes?” + +“Course I've heard of a ground mole! But what's a ground mole got to do +with a cigar, I want to know? And you said a moleHILL. What's a ground +mole doin' up on a hill?” + +“Not up ON one--IN one. A molehill is what a ground mole lives in, ain't +it? It's just a sayin'.... Oh, never mind! Go on! Take a walk.” + +“_I_ don't want to walk. And a ground mole lives in a hole, not a hill, +like a--like a ant. You know that as well as I do. And, anyhow, nobody +said anything about ground moles, or--or mud turtles neither, far's that +goes. No, nor five cent cigars. Now, Raish, I'll tell you what they're +sayin'; they say--” + +“And I'll tell YOU! Listen! Listen, now, because this is the last time +I'll tell anybody anything except to go--” + +“Sshh, shh, Raish! Alvira's right in the kitchen and the window's +open.... No, 'tain't, it's shut. Where will they go?” + +“Listen, you! I've bought those few extra shares of Development because +I had some myself and thought I might as well have a few more. I bought +'em and I paid for 'em. Nobody says I ain't paid for 'em, do they?” + +“No, no. Don't anybody say that. All they say IS--” + +“Be still! Now I bought those shares. What of it? It's my business, +ain't it? Yes. And I haven't bought any more. You can tell 'em that: I +HAVEN'T BOUGHT ANY MORE.” + +“Oh, all right, Raish, all right. I'll tell 'em you ain't. But--” + +“That's all. Now forget it! For-GET it!” + +Which should, perhaps, have been sufficient and convincing. But there +were still some unconvinced. For example, Martha happened to meet one +morning, while on an errand in the village, the president of the Denboro +Trust Company. He explained that he had motored over, having a little +matter of personal business to attend to. + +“I haven't seen you for some time, Miss Phipps,” he observed. “Not since +our--er--little talk about the Wellmouth Development stock. That was the +last time, wasn't it?” + +Martha said that it was. He lowered his voice a very little and asked, +casually: “Still holding on to your two hundred and fifty shares, are +you?” + +“Why, that was what you told me to do, wasn't it?” + +“Yes, yes. I believe it was. Humph! Just so, yes. So you've still got +those shares?” + +Martha smiled. “I haven't sold 'em to Raish Pulcifer, if that's what +you're hintin' at,” she said. + +He seemed a bit embarrassed. “Well,” he admitted, with a laugh, “I guess +I'll have to own that I did mean that. There seems to be a good many who +have sold to Pulcifer. All the little fellows, the small holders. You +haven't, you say?” + +“I haven't sold a share to him.” + +“Humph! Neither has Cap'n Jeth Hallett; he told me so just now.... +Hum!... What is Raish buying for? What's the reason he's buying? Have +you heard?” + +“I've heard what he's told other folks; that's all I know about it.” + +“Hum.... Yes, yes. Well, here's my advice, Miss Phipps: If I were +you--if I were you, I say, and he came to me and wanted to buy, I +shouldn't be in too big a hurry to sell. Not in too big a hurry, I +shouldn't.” + +“Why not?” + +He glanced at her quickly. “Oh, he HAS been to see you about buying your +shares, then?” he suggested. + +She shook her head. “I didn't say he had,” she replied. “I just asked +why I shouldn't sell if he wanted to buy, that's all. Why shouldn't I?” + +He seemed more embarrassed and a trifle irritated. + +“Why--why--Oh, well, I suppose you should, perhaps, if he offers you +enough. But I wish you wouldn't until--until--Well, couldn't you let me +know before you give him his answer? Would you mind doing that?” + +And now she looked keenly at him. “What would I gain by that?” she +asked. “YOU aren't thinkin' of buyin' more of that stock, are you? The +other time when we talked, you told me the Trust Company had all they +cared to own and were keepin' it because they had to. I would have been +glad--yes, awfully glad, to sell you my shares. But you wouldn't even +consider buyin'. Do you want to buy now?” + +He frowned. “I don't know what I want,” he said, impatiently. “Except +that the one thing we want to find out is why Pulcifer is buying. The +Trust Company holds a big block of that stock and--and if there is +anything up we want to know of it.” + +“What do you mean by 'anything up'?” + +“Oh, I mean if some other people are trying to get--er--into the thing. +Of course, it isn't likely, but--” + +He did not finish the sentence. She asked another question. + +“Has Raish been to see you about buyin' the Trust Company stock?” she +asked. + +“No. He hasn't been near us.” + +“Perhaps he would if you told him you wanted to sell.” + +“I don't know that we do want to sell. That's a pretty good piece of +property over there and some day--Ahem! Oh, well, never mind. But I +wish you would let us know before you sell Pulcifer your holdings. It +might--I can't say positively, you know--but it MIGHT be worth your +while.” + +Martha, of course, made no promise, but she thought a good deal during +her walk homeward. She told her lodger of the talk with the Trust +Company official, and he thought a good deal, also. + +His thoughts, however, dealt not with the possible rise in value of +the six hundred and fifty shares which, endorsed in blank, reposed, +presumably, somewhere in the vaults of Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot. He +thought not at all of anything like that. He had gotten rid of those +certificates and hoped never to hear of them again. But now, with all +this stir and talk, there was distinct danger that not only he but +others might hear of them. Galusha Bangs and Raish Pulcifer had, just +now, one trait in common, both detested the publicity given their +dealings in the securities of the Wellmouth Development Company. + +But, in spite of this detestation, Horatio still seemed anxious to deal +in those securities. He visited the Phipps' home twice that week, both +times after dark and, as the watchful Primmie observed and commented +upon, each time coming not by the lane, but across the fields. And when +he left, at the termination of his second visit, the expression upon his +face was by no means one of triumph. + +And Martha, of course, told her lodger what had transpired. + +“I declare,” she said, after her caller had gone, “I shall really begin +to believe somethin' IS up in that Development Company, just as the +Trust Company man said. Raish certainly wants to buy the two hundred and +fifty shares he thinks I've got. This is the third time he's been to see +me, sneakin' across lots in the dark so nobody else would see him, +and each time he raised his bid. He got up to eighteen dollars a +share to-night. And, I do believe, if I had given him the least bit of +encouragement, he would have gone higher still. What do you think of +that, Mr. Bangs?” + +Galusha did not know what to think of it; he found it extremely +unpleasant to think of it at all. + +“Have you--ah--have you told him you do not intend selling?” he asked. + +“Why, no, I haven't. You see, if I do he'll think it's awfully queer, +because he knows how anxious I was, a while ago, TO sell. I just keep +puttin' him off. Pretty soon I suppose I shall HAVE to tell him I won't +sell no matter what he offers; but we'll try the puttin' off as long +as possible.” She paused, and then added, with a mischievous twinkle, +“Really, Mr. Bangs, I am gettin' a good deal of fun out of it. A few +months ago I was the one to go to him and talk about that stock. Now he +comes to me and I'm just as high and mighty as he ever was, you can be +sure of that. 'Well, Raish,' I said to him to-night, 'I don't know that +I am very much interested. If the stock is worth that to you, I presume +likely it's worth it to me.' Ha, ha! Oh, dear! you should have seen him +squirm. He keeps tryin' to be buttery and sweet, but his real feelin's +come out sometimes. For instance, to-night his spite got a little too +much for him and he said: 'Humph!' he said, 'somebody must have willed +you money lately, Martha. Either that or keepin' boarders must pay +pretty well.' 'Yes,' said I, 'it does. The cost of livin is comin' +down all the time.' Oh, I'm havin' a beautiful game of tit-for-tat with +Raish.” + +She laughed merrily. Galusha did not laugh. The game was altogether too +risky for him to enjoy it. A person sitting on a powder barrel could +scarcely be expected to enjoy the sight of a group of children playing +with matches in close proximity. An explosion, sooner or later, might be +considered certain. But the children continued to play and day after +day went by, and no blow-up took place. Galusha sat upon his barrel +pondering apprehensively and--waiting. There were times when, facing +what seemed the inevitable, he found himself almost longing for the +promised summons from the Institute. An expedition to the wilds of--of +almost anywhere, provided it was remote enough--offered at least a means +of escape. But, to offset this, was the knowledge that escape by flight +involved giving up East Wellmouth and all it had come to mean to him. +Of course, he would be obliged to give it up some day and, in all +probability, soon--but--well, he simply could not bring himself to the +point of hastening the separation. So he shifted from the powder barrel +to the sharp horn of the other dilemma and shifted back again. Both +seats were most uncomfortable. The idea that there was an element of +absurdity in his self-imposed martyrdom and that, after all, what he +had done might be considered by the majority as commendable rather than +criminal, did not occur to him at all. He would not have been Galusha +Cabot Bangs if it had. + +He meditated much and Primmie, always on the lookout for new symptoms, +noticed the meditations. When Primmie noticed a thing she never +hesitated to ask questions concerning it. She was dusting the sitting +room one morning and he was sitting by the window looking out. + +“You're thinkin' again, ain't you, Mr. Bangs?” observed Primmie. + +Galusha started. “Eh?” he queried. “Thinking? Oh, yes--yes!--I suppose I +was thinking, Primmie. I--ah--sometimes do.” + +“You 'most always do. I never see anybody think as much as you do, Mr. +Bangs. Never in my born days I never. And lately--my savin' soul! Seems +as if you didn't do nothin' BUT think lately. Just set around and think +and twiddle that thing on your watch chain.” + +The thing on the watch chain was a rather odd charm which Mr. Bangs had +possessed for many years. “Twiddling” it was a habit of his. In fact, he +had twiddled it so much that the pivot upon which it had hung broke and +Martha had insisted upon his sending the charm to Boston for repairs. It +had recently been returned. + +“What is that thing, Mr. Bangs?” asked Primmie. “I was lookin' at it +t'other day when you left your watch chain layin' out in the sink.” + +“In the sink? You mean BY the sink, don't you, Primmie?” + +“No, I don't, I mean IN it. You'd forgot your watch and Miss Martha she +sent me up to your room after it. I fetched it down to you and you and +her was talkin' in the kitchen and you was washin' your hands in the +sink basin. Don't you remember you was?” + +“Was I? I--I presume I was if you say so. Really I--I have forgotten.” + +“Course you have. And you forgot your watch, too. Left it layin' right +alongside that tin washbasin full of soapsuds. 'Twas a mercy you didn't +empty out the suds on top of it. Well, I snaked it out of the sink +and chased out the door to give it to you and you was halfway to the +lighthouse and I couldn't make you hear to save my soul. 'Twas then +I noticed that charm thing. That's an awful funny kind of thing, Mr. +Bangs. There's a--a bug on it, ain't there?” + +“Why--ah--yes, Primmie. That charm is a very old scarab.” + +“Hey? A what? I told Miss Martha it looked for all the world like a +pertater bug.” + +Galusha smiled. He held out the charm for her inspection. + +“I have had that for a long time,” he said. “It is a--ah--souvenir of my +first Egyptian expedition. The scarab is a rather rare example. I found +it myself at Saqqarah, in a tomb. It is a scarab of the Vth Dynasty.” + +“Hey? Die--what?” + +“The Vth Dynasty; that is the way we classify Egyptian--ah--relics, by +dynasties, you know. The Vth Dynasty was about six thousand years ago.” + +Primmie sat down upon the chair she had been dusting. + +“Hey?” she exclaimed. “My Lord of Isrul! Is that bug thing there six +thousand year old?” + +“Yes.” + +“My savin' soul! WHAT kind of a bug did you say 'twas?” + +“Why, I don't know that I did say. It is a representation of an Egyptian +beetle, Ateuchus Sacer, you know. The ancient Egyptians worshiped the +beetle and so they--” + +“Wait! Wait a minute, Mr. Bangs. WHAT did you say they done to it?” + +“I said they worshiped it, made a god of it, you understand.” + +“A god! Out of a--a pertater bug! Go long, Mr. Bangs! You're foolin', +ain't you?” + +“Dear me, no! It's quite true, Primmie, really. The ancient Egyptians +had many gods, some like human beings, some in the forms of animals. The +goddess Hathor, for example, was the goddess of the dead and is always +represented in the shape of a cow.” + +“Eh! A cow! Do you mean to sit there and tell me them +folks--er--er--went to church meetin' and--and flopped down and said +their prayers to a COW?” + +Galusha smiled. “Why, yes,” he said, “I presume you might call it that. +And another god of theirs had the head of a hawk--the bird, you know. +The cat, too, was a very sacred animal. And, as I say, the beetle, like +the one represented here, was--” + +“Hold on, Mr. Bangs! HO-OLD on! Don't say no more to me NOW. Let me kind +of--of settle my stomach, as you might say, 'fore you fetch any more +onto the table. Worshipin' cows and--and henhawks and--and cats and bugs +and--and hoptoads and clams, for what _I_ know! My savin' soul! What +made 'em do it? What did they do it FOR? Was they all crazy?” + +“Oh, no, it was the custom of their race and time.” + +“WELL!” with a heartfelt sigh, “I'm glad times have changed, that's +all I've got to say. Goin' to cow meetin' would be too much for ME! Mr. +Bangs, where did you get that bug thing?” + +“I found it at a place called Saqqarah, in Egypt. It was in a tomb +there.” + +“A tomb! What was you doin' in a tomb, for the land sakes?” + +“I was opening it, looking for mummies and carvings, statues, relics, +anything of the kind I might find. This scarab was in a ring on the +finger of the mummy of a woman. She was the wife of an officer in the +royal court. The mummy case was excellently preserved and when the mummy +itself was unwrapped--” + +“Wait a minute! Hold on just another minute, won't you, Mr. Bangs? +You're always talkin' about mummies. A mummy is a--a kind of an image, +ain't it? I've seen pictures of 'em in them printed report things you +get from that Washin'ton place. An image with funny scrabblin' and +pictures, kind of, all over it. That's a mummy, ain't it, Mr. Bangs?” + +“Why, not exactly, Primmie. A mummy is--” + +He proceeded to tell her much concerning mummies. From that he went on +to describe the finding of the particular mummy from whose finger the +scarab had been taken. Miss Cash listened, her mouth and eyes opening +wider and wider. She appeared to be slowly stiffening in her chair. +Galusha, growing interested in his own story, was waxing almost +eloquent, when he was interrupted by a gasp from his listener. She was +staring at him, her face expressing the utmost horror. + +“Why, dear me, Primmie, what is it?” he begged. + +Primmie gasped again. “And you set there,” she said, slowly, “and tell +me that you hauled that poor critter that had been buried six thousand +years out of--of--My Lord of Isrul! Don't talk no more to me now, Mr. +Bangs. I sha'n't sleep none THIS night!” She marched to the door and +there, turning, looked at him in awe-stricken amazement. + +“And to think,” she said, slowly, “that I always cal'lated you was meek +and gentle and--and all like that--as Moses's grandmother. WELL, it just +shows you can't tell much by a person's LOOKS. Haulin' 'em out of their +graves and--and unwrappin' 'em like--like bundles, and cartin' 'em off +to museums. And thinkin' no more of it than I would of--of scalin' a +flatfish. My savin' soul!” + +She breathed heavily once more and departed. That evening she came +to her mistress with a new hint concerning the reason for the Bangs' +absent-mindedness. + +“It's his conscience,” she declared. “He's broodin', that's what he's +doin'. Broodin' and broodin' over them poor remains in the showcases +in the museums. He may be a good man; I don't say he ain't. He's just +lovely NOW, and that's why his conscience keeps a-broodin', poor thing. +Oh, I know what I'm talkin' about, Miss Martha. You ask him some time +where he got that bug thing--a Arab, he calls it--that he wears on his +watch chain. Just ask him. You'll hear somethin' THEN, I bet you! Whew!” + +Galusha found considerable amusement in talks like those. Primmie was +a distinct relief, for she never mentioned the troublesome Development +Company. Talk in the village concerning it was dying down and Mr. +Pulcifer's assertion that he had bought only the shares of the small +holders was becoming more generally believed. But in the Gould's Bluffs +settlement this belief was scoffed at. Captain Jeth Hallett told Galusha +the truth and his statement was merely a confirmation of Martha Phipps'. + +“Raish is hotfoot after that stock of mine,” growled the light keeper. +“He's 'round to see me every day or two. Don't hint any more neither; +comes right out and bids for it. He's got to as high as nineteen a +share now. And he'd go higher, too. HOW far he'll go I don't know, but I +cal'late I'll keep him stringin' along till I find out.” + +He pulled at his beard for a moment and then added: + +“It's plain enough, of course, that Raish is agent for somebody that +wants to buy in that stock. Who 'tis, though, I can't guess. It ain't +your Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot crowd, Mr. Bangs. That's plain enough, +too.” + +Galusha tried to look innocently interested. + +“Oh--ah--yes,” he said. “Is it?” + +“Sartin 'tis. THEY wouldn't need to be sendin' anybody to buy my shares, +would they? They've bought 'em already. The whole thing is queer. Look +here! Why should anybody be chasin' ME for those shares? Why don't they +get a list of stockholders from the books? Those transfer books ought to +show that I've sold, hadn't they? They would, too, if any transfer had +been made. There ain't been any made, that's all the answer I can think +of. I signed those certificates of mine in blank, transferred 'em in +blank on the back. And somebody--whoever 'twas bought 'em--ain't turned +'em in for new ones in their own name, but have left 'em just the way +they got 'em. That's why Raish and his crowd think I've still got my +stock. Now ain't that funny, Mr. Bangs? Ain't that strange?” + +It was not at all funny to Galusha. Nor strange. The light keeper tugged +at his beard and his shaggy brows drew together. “I don't know's I did +right to let go of that stock of mine, after all,” he said, slowly. +“Don't know as I did, no.” + +Galusha asked him why. + +“Because I don't know as I did, that's all. If I'd hung on I might have +got more for it. Looks to me as if Raish's crowd, whoever they are, are +mighty anxious to buy. And the Denboro Trust Company folks might bid +against 'em if 'twas necessary. They've got too much of that stock to +let themselves be froze out. Humph!... Humph! I ain't sure as I did +right.” + +“But--but you did get a profit, Captain Hallett. The profit +you--ah--expected.” + +“Humph! I got a profit, but how do I know 'twas the profit Julia meant? +I ought to have gone and asked her afore I sold, that's what I ought to +have done, I cal'late.” + +He frowned heavily and added, in a tone of gloomy doubt: “I presume +likely I've been neglectin' things--things like that, lately, and that's +why punishments are laid onto me. I suppose likely that's it.” + +Galusha, of course, did not understand, but as the captain seemed to +expect him to make some remark, he said: “Oh--ah--dear me! Indeed? +Ah--punishments?” + +“Yes. I don't know what else they are. When your own flesh and blood--” + He stopped in the middle of his sentence, sighed, and added: “Well, +never mind. But I need counsel, Mr. Bangs, counsel.” + +Again Galusha scarcely knew what to say. + +“Why--ah--Captain Hallett,” he stammered, “I doubt if my advice would be +worth much, really, but such as it is I assure you it--” + +Captain Jethro interrupted. + +“Counsel from this earth won't help me any, Mr. Bangs,” he declared. +“It's higher counsel that I need. Um-hm, higher.” + +He walked away without saying more. Galusha wondered what had set him +off upon that tack. That afternoon, while in the village, he met Nelson +Howard and the latter furnished an explanation. It seemed that the young +man had been to see Captain Jethro, had dared to call at the light with +the deliberate intention of seeing and interviewing him on the subject +of his daughter. The interview had not been long, nor as stormy as +Nelson anticipated; but neither had it been satisfactory. + +“It's those confounded 'spirits' that are rocking the boat,” declared +Nelson. “The old man practically said just that. He seems to have gotten +over some of his bitterness against me--perhaps it is, as you say, Mr. +Bangs, because I have a better position now and good prospects. Perhaps +it is that, I don't know. But he still won't consider my marrying Lulie. +He seems to realize that we could marry and that he couldn't stop us, +but I think he realizes, too, that neither Lulie nor I would think of +doing it against his will. 'But why, Cap'n Hallett?' I kept saying. +'WHY? What is the reason you are so down on me?' And all I could get out +of him was the old stuff about 'revelations' and 'word from above' and +all that. We didn't get much of anywhere. Oh, pshaw! Wouldn't it make +you tired? Say, Mr. Bangs, the last time you and I talked you said you +were going to 'consider' those Marietta Hoag spirits. I don't know what +you meant, but if you could consider some sense into them and into Cap'n +Jeth's stubborn old head, I wish you would.” + +Galusha smiled and said he would try. “I don't exactly know what +I meant, myself, by considering them,” he admitted. “However, +I--ah--doubtless meant something and I'll try and--ah--consider what it +was. It seems to me that I had a vague thought--not an idea, +exactly, but--Well, perhaps it will come back. I have had a number +of--ah--distractions of late. They have caused me to forget the spirits. +I'm very sorry, really. I must try now and reconsider the considering. +Dear me, how involved I am getting! Never mind, we are going to win yet. +Oh, I am sure of it.” + +The distractions to which he referred were, of course, the recent +and mysterious machinations of Raish Pulcifer. And he was to be again +distracted that very afternoon. For as, after parting with Howard, +he was walking slowly along the main road, pondering deeply upon the +problem presented by the love affair of his two young friends and its +spirit complications, he was awakened from his reverie by a series of +sharp clicks close at his ear. He started, looked up and about, and saw +that he was directly opposite the business office of the great Horatio. +He heard the clicks again and realized that they were caused by the +tapping of the windowpane by a ring upon a masculine finger. The +ring appeared to be--but was not--a mammoth pigeon-blood ruby and it +ornamented, or set off, the hand of Mr. Pulcifer himself. + +Galusha stared uncomprehendingly at the hand and ring. Then the hand +beckoned frantically. Mr. Bangs raised his eyes and saw, through the +dingy pane, the face of the owner of the hand. The lower portion of the +face was in eager motion. “Come in,” Mr. Pulcifer was whispering. “Come +on in!” + +Galusha wonderingly entered the office. He had no desire for +conversation with its proprietor, but he was curious to know what the +latter wanted. + +“Ah--good-afternoon, Mr. Pulcifer,” he said. + +Raish did not answer immediately. His first move was to cross to the +door by which his visitor had entered, close and lock it. His next was +to lower the window shade a trifle. Then he turned and smiled--nay, +beamed upon that visitor. + +“Set down, set down, Perfessor,” he urged, with great cordiality. “Well, +well, well! It's good to see you again, be hanged if it ain't now! How's +things down to the bluffs? Joggin' along, joggin' along in the same old +rut, the way the feller with the wheelbarrer went to market? Eh? Haw, +haw, haw! Have a cigar, Perfessor?” + +Galusha declined the cigar. He would also have declined the invitation +to sit, but Mr. Pulcifer would not hear of it. He all but forced his +caller into a chair. + +“Set down,” he insisted. “Just as cheap settin' as standin' and +consider'ble lighter on shoe leather, as the feller said. Haw, haw! Hey? +Yes, indeed. Er--Have a cigar?” + +But Galusha was still resolute as far as the cigar was concerned. Raish +lighted one himself and puffed briskly. To a keen observer he might have +appeared a trifle nervous. Galusha was not a particularly keen observer +and, moreover, he was nervous himself. If there had been no other +reason, close proximity to a Raish Pulcifer cigar was, to a sensitive +person, sufficient cause for nervousness. + +Mr. Pulcifer continued to talk and talk and talk, of the weather, of the +profits of the summer season just past, of all sorts of trivialities. +Mr. Bangs' nervousness increased. He fidgeted in his chair. + +“Really,” he stammered, “I--I fear I must be going. You will excuse me, +I hope, but--ah--I must, really.” + +Pulcifer held up a protesting hand. It was that holding the cigar and he +waved it slowly back and forth. One of Galusha's experiences had been to +be a passenger aboard a tramp steamer loaded with hides when fire broke +out on board. The hides had smoked tremendously and smelled even more +so. As the dealer in real estate slowly waved his cigar back and forth, +Galusha suddenly remembered this experience. The mental picture was +quite vivid. + +“Wait, Perfessor,” commanded Horatio. “Throttle her down. Put her into +low just a minute. Say, Perfessor,” he lowered his voice and leaned +forward in his chair: “Say, Perfessor,” he repeated, “do you want to +make some money?” + +Galusha gazed at him uncomprehendingly. + +“Why--ah--Dear me!” he faltered. “I--that is--well, really, I fear I do +not fully grasp your--ah--meaning, Mr. Pulcifer.” + +Raish seemed to find this amusing. He laughed aloud. “No reason why you +should yet awhile, Perfessor,” he declared. “I'll try to get it across +to you in a minute, though. What I asked was if you wanted to make +money. Do, don't you?” + +“Why--why, I don't know. Really, I--” + +“Go 'way, boy!” derisively. “Go 'way! Don't tell me you don't want +money. Everybody wants it. You and me ain't John D.'s yet, by a +consider'ble sight. Hey? Haw, haw! Anyhow _I_ ain't, and I'll say this +for you, Perfessor, if you are, you don't look it. Haw, haw!” + +He laughed again. Galusha glanced despairingly at the locked door. Mr. +Pulcifer leaned forward and gesticulated with the cigar just before his +visitor's nose. The visitor leaned backward. + +“If--if you don't mind,” he said, desperately, “I really wish you +wouldn't.” + +“What?” + +“Put that thing--that cigar quite so near. If you don't mind.” + +Raish withdrew the cigar and looked at it and his companion. + +“Oh, yes, yes; I see!” he said, after a moment. “You object to tobacco, +then?” + +Galusha drew a relieved breath. “Why--ah--no,” he said, slowly, “not +to--ah--tobacco.” Then he added, hastily: “But, really, Mr. Pulcifer, I +must be going.” + +Pulcifer pushed him back into the chair again. His tone became brisk and +businesslike. “Hold on, Perfessor,” he said. “You say you want to make +money?” + +Galusha had not said so, but it seemed scarcely worth while to deny the +assertion. And Raish waited for no denial. “You want to make money,” + he repeated. “All right, so do I. And I've got a scheme that'll help us +both to make a little. Now listen. But before I tell you, you've got to +give me your word to keep it dark; see?” + +Galusha promised and Raish proceeded to explain his scheme. Briefly it +amounted to this: Galusha Bangs, being a close acquaintance of Martha +Phipps and Jethro Hallett, was to use that acquaintanceship to induce +them to sell their shares in the Development Company. For such an +effort, if successful, on the part of Mr. Bangs, he, Horatio Pulcifer, +was prepared to pay a commission of fifty dollars, twenty-five when he +received Martha's shares and twenty-five when Jethro's were delivered. + +“There,” he said, in conclusion, “is a chance I'm offerin' you, as a +friend, to clean up fifty good, hard, round dollars. What do you say, +old man?” + +The “old man”--Galusha winced slightly at the appellation--did not seem +to know what to say. His facial expression might have indicated any or +all of a variety of feelings. At last, he stammered a question. Why did +Mr. Pulcifer wish to obtain the Development stock? This question Raish +would not answer. + +“Never mind,” he said. “I do, that's all. And I've got the money to do +it with. I'll pay cash for their stock and I'll pay you cash when you or +they hand it over. That's business, ain't it?” + +“But--but, dear me, Mr. Pulcifer, why do you ask ME to do this? Why--” + +“Ain't I told you? You're a friend of mine and I'm givin' you the chance +because I think you need the money. That's a reason, ain't it?” + +“Why--yes. It is--ah--a reason. But why don't you buy the stock +yourself?” + +For an instant Raish's smoothness deserted him. His temper flared. + +“Because the cussed fools won't sell it to me,” he snapped. “That is, +they ain't said they'd sell yet. Perhaps they're prejudiced against +me, I don't know. Maybe they will sell to you; you and they seem to +be thicker'n thieves. Er--that is, of course, you understand I don't +mean--Oh, well, you know what I mean, Perfessor. Now what do you say?” + +Galusha rose and picked up his hat from the floor. + +“I'm afraid I must say no,” he said, quietly, but with a firmness which +even Raish Pulcifer's calloused understanding could not miss. “I could +not think of accepting, really.” + +“But, say, Perfessor--” + +“No, Mr. Pulcifer. I could not.” + +“But why not? IF--Well, I tell you, maybe I might make it sixty dollars +instead of fifty for you.” + +“No. I couldn't, Mr. Pulcifer.... If you will kindly unlock the door?” + +Pulcifer swore. “Well, you must be richer'n you look, that's all I've +got to say,” he snarled. He kicked the wastebasket across the room and +growled: “I'll get the stuff away from 'em yet, just the same. What the +fools are hangin' on for is more'n I can see. Martha Phipps was down +on her knees beggin' me to buy only a little spell ago. Old Jeth, +of course, thinks his 'spirits' are backin' HIM up. Crazy old loon! +Spirits! In this day and time! God sakes! Humph! I wish to thunder I +could deal with the spirits direct; might be able to do business with +THEM. Perfessor, now come, think it over. There ain't anything crooked +about it.... Why, what is it, Perfessor?” eagerly. “Changed your mind, +have you?” + +Galusha's expression had changed, certainly. He looked queerly at Mr. +Pulcifer, queerly and for an appreciable interval of time. There was an +odd flash in his eye and the suspicion of a smile at the corner of his +lips. But he was grave enough when he spoke. + +“Mr. Pulcifer,” he said, “I appreciate your kindness in--ah--considering +me in this matter. I--it is impossible for me to accept your offer, of +course, but--but--” + +“Now, hold on, Perfessor. You think that offer over.” + +“No, I cannot accept. But it has occurred to me that perhaps... +perhaps... Mr. Pulcifer, do you know Miss Hoag?” + +“Hey? Marietta Hoag? KNOW her? Yes, I know her; know her too well for my +own good. Why?” + +“Have you any--ah--influence with her? That is, would she be likely to +listen to a suggestion from you?” + +“Listen! SHE? Confound her, I've got a note of hers for seventy-five +dollars and it's two months overdue. She'd BETTER listen! Say, what are +you drivin' at, Perfessor?” + +Galusha deposited his hat upon the floor again, and sat down in the +chair he had just vacated. Now it was he who, regardless of the cigar, +leaned forward. + +“Mr. Pulcifer,” he said, “an idea occurred to me while you were speaking +just now. I don't know that it will be of any--ah--value to you. But you +are quite welcome to it, really. This is the idea--” + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +If Ras Beebe or Miss Blount or some others of the group of East +Wellmouthians who guessed Galusha Bangs to be “a little teched in the +head,” had seen that gentleman walking toward home after his interview +with Mr. Pulcifer in the latter's office--if they had seen him on his +way to Gould's Bluffs that day, they would have ceased guessing and +professed certain knowledge. Galusha meandered slowly along the lane, +head bent, hands clasped behind him, stumbling over tussocks and +stepping with unexpected emphasis into ruts and holes. Sometimes his +face wore a disturbed expression, almost a frightened one; at other +times he smiled and his eyes twinkled like those of a mischievous boy. +Once he laughed aloud, and, hearing himself, looked guiltily around +to see if any one else had heard him. Then the frightened expression +returned once more. If Primmie Cash had been privileged to watch him she +might have said, as she had on a former occasion, that he looked “as if +he was havin' a good time all up one side of him and a bad one all down +t'other.” + +As a matter of fact, this estimate would not have been so far wrong. +Galusha was divided between pleasurable anticipation and fear. There was +adventure ahead, adventure which promised excitement, a probable benefit +to some individuals and a grievous shock to others, and surprise to all. +But for him there was involved a certain amount of risk. However, so he +decided before he reached the Phipps' gate, he had started across the +desert and it was too late to turn back. Whether he brought his caravan +over safely or the Bedouins got him was on the knees of the gods. And +the fortunes of little Galusha Bangs had been, ere this, on the knees of +many gods, hawk-headed and horned and crescent-crowned, strange gods in +strange places. It was quite useless to worry now, he decided, and +he would calmly wait and see. At the best, the outcome would be good, +delightful. At the worst, except for him--well, except for him it could +not be much worse than it now was. For him, of course--he must not think +about that. + +He endeavored to assume an air of light-hearted, care-free innocence +and sometimes overdid it a bit. Primmie, the eagle-eyed, remarked to her +mistress: “Well, all's I can say is that I never see such a change in a +body as there is in Mr. Bangs. He used to be so--so quiet, you know, all +the time, and he is yet most of it. When I used to come along and find +him all humped over thinkin', and I'd ask him what he was thinkin' +about, he'd kind of jump and wake up and say, 'Eh? Oh, nothin', nothin,' +Primmie, really. Er--quite so--yes.' And then he'd go to sleep again, as +you might say. But he don't do so now; my savin' soul, no! This mornin' +when I says, 'What you thinkin' about, Mr. Bangs?' he says, 'Nothin', +nothin', Primmie,' same as usual; but then he says, 'DON'T look at me +like that, Primmie. I wasn't thinkin' of anything, I assure you. Please +don't DO it.' And then he commenced to sing, sing out loud. I never +heard him do it afore and I don't know's I exactly hanker to have him +do it again, 'cause 'twas pretty unhealthy singin', if you ask ME. But +what--” + +“Oh, now run along, run along, Primmie, for mercy's sakes! I never heard +any one use so many words and get so little good out of 'em in my life. +Let Mr. Bangs alone.” + +“_I_ ain't doin' nothin' to him. Lord of Isrul, no! But, Miss Martha, +what started him to singin' all to once? If 'twas somebody else but him +and I didn't know the cherry rum was all gone, I--” + +“What? What's that? How did you know the cherry rum was all gone?” + +Primmie blinked and swallowed hard. “Why--er--why--er--Miss Martha,” she +stammered, “I--I just happened to find it out--er--sort of by accident. +Zach--Zacheus Bloomer, I mean--over to the lighthouse, you know--” + +“There, there! Know? Of course I know Zach Bloomer, I should think I +might. Don't be any sillier than the Lord made you, Primmie. It isn't +necessary.” + +“Well--well, you see, Miss Martha, Zach he was over here one time +a spell ago and--and--Well, we got to--to kind of arguin' with one +another--er--er--arguin', you know.” + +“Yes, I know. I ought to. Go on.” + +“Yes'm. And Zach he got to--to bettin', as you might say. And we got +talkin' about--er--cherry rum, seems so. It's kind of funny that we +done it, now I come to think of it, but we did. Seems to me 'twas Zach +started it.” + +“Um.... I see. Go on.” + +“Well, we argued and argued and finally he up and bet me there wasn't a +drink of cherry rum in this house. Bet me five cents, he did, and I took +him up. And then I went and got the bottle out of the soup tureen in the +closet and fetched it and showed it to him. 'There!' says I. 'There's +your drink, Zach Bloomer,' says I. 'Now hand over my five cents.' 'Hold +on, Posy,' he says, 'hold on. I said a drink. There ain't a drink in +that bottle.' 'Go 'long,' says I, 'the bottle's half full.' But he stuck +it out there wasn't a drink in it and afore he'd pay me my bet he had to +prove it to himself. Even then, after he'd swallowed the whole of it, +he vowed and declared there wasn't a real drink. But he had to hand over +the five cents.... And--and that's how I know,” concluded Primmie, “that +there ain't any cherry rum in the house, Miss Martha.” + +Miss Phipps' remarks on the subject of the wily Mr. Bloomer and the rum +drove the thoughts of Mr. Bangs' odd behavior from the mind of her maid. +But the consciousness of conspiracy was always present with Galusha, try +as he might to forget it. And he was constantly being reminded--of it. +Down at the post office at mail time he would feel his coat-tail pulled +and looking up would see the face of Mr. Pulcifer solemnly gazing +over his head at the rows of letter boxes. Apparently Raish was quite +unconscious of the little man's presence, but there would come another +tug at the coat-tail and a barely perceptible jerk of the Pulcifer head +toward the door. + +Feeling remarkably like a fool, Galusha would follow to the front steps +of the post office. There Raish would suddenly and, in a tone of joyful +surprise, quite as if they had not met for years, seize his hand, pump +it up and down and ask concerning his health, the health of the Gould's +Bluffs colony and the “news down yonder.” Then, gazing blandly up the +road at nothing in particular, he would add, speaking in a whisper and +from the corner of his mouth: “Comin' along, Perfessor. She's a-comin' +along. Keep your ear out for signals.... What say? Why, no, I don't +think it does look as much like rain as it did, Mr. Bangs.” + +One evening Galusha, entering the Phipps' sitting room, found Lulie +there. She and Martha were in earnest conversation and the girl was +plainly much agitated. He was hurriedly withdrawing, but Miss Phipps +called him back. + +“Come in, Mr. Bangs,” she said. “I think Lulie would like to talk to +you. She said she would.” + +“Yes. Yes, I would, Mr. Bangs,” put in Lulie, herself. “Could you spare +just a minute or two?” + +Galusha cheerfully avowed that he had so many spare minutes that he did +not know what to do with them. + +“If time were money, as they say it is,” he added, “I should be +a--ah--sort of mint, shouldn't I?” Then he smiled and added: “Why, +no, not exactly that, either. A mint is where they make money and I +certainly do not make time. But I have just as much time as if I did. +Yes--ah--quite so. As our philosophizing friend Zacheus is so fond +of saying, I have 'all the time there is.' And if time IS +money--why--ah.... Eh? Dear me, possibly you ladies know what I am +talking about; _I_ don't.” + +They both burst out laughing and he smiled and stroked his chin. Martha +looked him over. + +“What makes you so nervous, Mr. Bangs?” she asked. He started and +colored. He was a trifle nervous, having a shrewd suspicion as to what +Miss Hallett wished to talk with him about. She promptly confirmed the +suspicion. + +“Mr. Bangs,” she said, “I am in such trouble. It's about father, as +usual. I'm afraid he is at it again.” + +“Eh? I beg pardon? Oh, yes, certainly.” + +Martha shook her head. “He hasn't the slightest idea what you mean, +Lulie,” she declared. “That's why he says 'Oh, yes, certainly.' She +means, Mr. Bangs, that Cap'n Jethro is beginnin' to break out with +another attack of Marietta Hoag's spirits, and we've been tryin' to +think of a way to stop him. We haven't yet. Perhaps you can. Can you?” + +Lulie went on to explain. Her father had been more gloomy and thoughtful +for the last week or two. She had noticed it and so had Zach. He talked +with her less and less as the days passed, lapsed into silences at +meals, and on nights when he was supposed to be off duty and asleep she +often heard him walking about his room. If she asked him, as, of course, +she often did, what was the matter, if he was not feeling well or if +there was anything troubling him, he only growled a negative or ordered +her not to bother him. + +“And when, last Wednesday at supper,” she went on, “Zach said something +about the engine for the foghorn not working just as it should, father's +answer showed us both what was in his mind. I had guessed it before and +Zach says he had, but then we knew.” + +“Tell Mr. Bangs what he said,” urged Martha. + +“He didn't say so very much, Mr. Bangs, but it was the way he said it. +He glowered at poor Zach, who hadn't said or done anything wrong, and +pulled his beard as he always does. Then he said: 'There's no wonder the +engine's out of kilter. There's no wonder about that. The wonder is +that anything's right aboard here. We've been trying to steer without a +compass. We've got so we think we don't need a pilot or a chart, but +are so everlasting smart we can cruise anywhere on our own hook.' 'Why, +father,' said I, 'what do you mean?' He glared at me then. 'Mean?' he +asked. 'I mean we've had guidance offered to us, offered to us over and +over again, and we've passed it by on the other side.'” + +She paused. Galusha looked puzzled. + +“Ah--um, yes,” he observed. “On the other side? Yes--ah--quite so.” + +“Oh, that was just his way of speaking, Mr. Bangs. I tried to change +the subject. I asked him if he didn't think we should report the engine +trouble to the inspector when he came next month. It was a mistake, my +saying that. He got up from his chair. 'I'm going to report,' he said. +'I'm going to make my report aloft and ask for guidance. The foghorn +ain't the only thing that's runnin' wild. My own flesh and blood defies +me.'” + +Martha interrupted. “You hear that, Mr. Bangs?” she said. “And we were +all hopin' THAT snarl was straightenin' itself out.” + +Galusha looked very uneasy. “Dear me,” he said. “Really, now. Oh, dear!” + +“Well,” continued Lulie, “that was enough, of course. And the next day, +last Thursday, Zacheus said Ras Beebe told him that Ophelia--that's his +sister, you know--told him that Abel Harding told her that his wife said +that Marietta Hoag told HER--I HOPE I've got all the 'hims' and 'hers' +straight--that Cap'n Jeth Hallett was going to have another seance down +at the light pretty soon. Marietta said that father felt he needed help +from 'over the river'.... What is it, Mr. Bangs?” + +“Oh, nothing, nothing. For a moment I did not get the--ah--allusion, the +'over the river,' you know. I comprehend now, the--ah--Styx; yes.” + +But now Martha looked puzzled. + +“Sticks!” she repeated. “Lulie didn't say anything about sticks. Neither +did Cap'n Jethro. Spirits he was talkin' about.” + +“Yes, I know. Certainly, quite so. The shades beyond the Styx.” + +“SHADES? STICKS! For mercy's sakes, Mr. Bangs--!” + +Lulie laughed aloud. “He means the River Styx, Martha,” she explained. +“Don't you know? The river of the dead, that the ancients believed in, +where Charon rowed the ferry.” + +And now Martha laughed. “My goodness gracious me!” she cried. “Yes, yes, +of course. I've read about it, but it was a long while ago. Mr. Bangs, +I'm dreadfully ignorant, I realize it about once every ten minutes when +I'm with you. Perhaps I've got a little excuse this time. I've been +figurin' I must buy new curtains for the dinin' room. I was thinkin' +about it all this forenoon. And when YOU began to talk about shades and +sticks, I--Mercy me! I am funny, I declare!” + +She laughed again and Lulie and Galusha joined her. They were still +laughing when the dining room door opened. Mr. Bloomer's substantial if +not elegant form appeared. + +“Ain't buttin' in, be I?” inquired Zach. “I knew you was over here, +Lulie, so I stopped to tell you the news. It's all settled.” + +“Settled?” Lulie and Martha repeated the word together. Zach nodded, +portentously. + +“Um-hm,” he declared. “Settled's the word. The whistle's piped to +quarters. All hands, alow and aloft, are ordered to report on board the +good ship Gould's Bluffs Lighthouse, Cap'n Jethro Hallet commandin', +on Friday next, the--er--I-forget-what of this month, at seven bells in +the--” + +“Zach! Zach!” broke in Lulie. “Stop it! What are you talking about?” + +“Talkin' about what I'm tryin' to tell you,” said Zacheus, who seemed, +for him, a good deal disturbed. “All able believers, fo'mast hands, +and roustabouts and all full-rated ghosts, spooks, sperits and Chinee +controls are ordered to get together in the parlor next Saturday night +and turn loose and raise-whatever 'tis they raise. Signed, Marietta +Hoag, Admiral, and Cap'n Jethro Hallett, Skipper. There, by Godfreys! +Now if you don't know 'tain't my fault, is it? Yes, sir, there's goin' +to be another one of them fool sea-ants, or whatever 'tis they call 'em, +over to the house next Friday night. And I think it's a darn shame, +if you want to know what _I_ think. And just as you and me, Lulie, was +hopin' the old man was gettin' so he'd forgot Marietta and all her crew. +A healthy note, by Godfreys, ain't it now!” + +“A healthy note,” or words to that effect, was exactly what it was; +Martha and Lulie were in thorough accord with Zach as to that. Galusha +did not say very much. He rubbed his chin a good deal and when, after +Bloomer had departed, Lulie came close to breaking down and crying, he +still was silent, although nervous and evidently much disturbed. Lulie +bravely conquered her emotion. + +“Please don't mind me,” she begged. “It's awfully silly of me, I know. +But, you see, Nelson and I had really begun to think that perhaps father +had broken away from--from all that. For a time he was--oh, different. +Nelson told you that he bowed to him once and I told you how--But what +is the use? Here he goes again. And now goodness knows what dreadful +ideas that Hoag woman will put into his head. Nelson and I had hoped +that perhaps--perhaps we might be married in six months or a year. +Now--Oh, it is SO discouraging!” + +Martha soothed her, told her not to be discouraged, that no doubt this +spirit outbreak would be only a mild one, that she was sure Captain Jeth +would “come around all right” in time, and grasped at any other straws +of comfort she found afloat. Galusha stood awkwardly by, his face +expressing concern, but his tongue silent. When Lulie declared she must +go home, he insisted upon walking to the light with her. + +“But you don't need to, Mr. Bangs,” she declared. “It is a pleasant +night and such a little way. And you know I am used to running about +alone. Why, what on earth do you think would be likely to hurt me, down +here in this lonesomeness?” + +Nevertheless, he insisted. But, although she chatted during their short +walk, it was not until they reached the light keeper's gate that he +spoke. Then he laid a hand on her arm. + +“Ah--ah--Miss Lulie--” he began, but she stopped him. + +“I thought we had settled long ago,” she said, “that I wasn't to be +'Miss' Lulie. Now you are beginning again.” + +“Yes--yes. I beg your pardon, of course. Well, Miss--Oh, dear me, HOW +ridiculous I am! Well, Lulie, I should like to tell you a story. May I?” + +It seemed a queer place and an odd time to tell stories, but she said of +course he might. + +“It wasn't a very long story,” he went on, “but it is a true one. +I happened to think of it just now while we were talking, you and I +and--ah--Miss Martha. It is about me. On one of my expeditions in Egypt, +Miss Lu--Oh, good gracious!--On one of my Egyptian expeditions, Lulie, +I was in search of a certain tomb, or group of tombs. It was on this +expedition, by the way, that we found the very remarkable statue of +Amenemhait; Amenemhait III, you know.” + +Lulie smiled. “I DON'T know,” she said, “but it doesn't matter.” + +“Eh? Oh, no, not at all, not in the least. He was a Pharaoh of the first +Theban period. But that doesn't matter either; and he hasn't anything +to do with this story. We had learned of the existence of this group of +tombs, or that they had existed at one time, and of their approximate +location, from an inscription dug up by myself at--” + +The door of the light keeper's cottage swung open with a bang. A voice +roared across the night. + +“Lulie!” shouted Captain Jethro. “Lulie!” + +The Bangs' story broke off in the middle. Its narrator and his young +companion turned startled faces toward the sound. + +“Lulie!” bellowed Captain Jeth, again. “Lulie!” + +Lulie answered. “Why, yes, father,” she said. “I am right here, at the +gate. Why are you shouting so? What is the matter?” + +The captain seemed much surprised. He raised a hand to shield his eyes +from the lamplight in the room behind him. + +“Hey?” he queried. “Where be you? You ain't right there at the gate, are +you?” + +“Why, yes, of course I am.” + +“Humph!...” Then, with renewed suspicion, “Who's that with you?” + +“Mr. Bangs. I ran over to Martha's for a minute or two, and he walked +home with me.” + +“Good-evening, Captain Hallett,” hailed Galusha. Captain Jethro pulled +his beard. + +“Humph!” he grunted. “Humph! Mr. Bangs, eh?... Humph! I +thought--Cal'late I must have fell asleep on the sofy and been +dreamin'.... Humph!... Lulie, you better come in now, it's chilly out +here. Mr. Bangs can come, too, I suppose likely--if he wants to.” + +It was not the most cordial of invitations and Galusha did not accept +it. + +“I must get back to the house, Captain,” he said. “It IS chilly, as you +say. No doubt he is right, Lulie. You mustn't stay. Good-night.” + +“But, Mr. Bangs, you haven't finished your story.” + +“Eh? Dear me, so I haven't. Well--” + +“Lulie!” Captain Jethro's voice was fretful. “Lulie, you come along in +now. I want you.” + +Lulie shook her head resignedly. “Yes, father,” she replied, “I'm +coming this minute. You see?” she whispered. “He is getting back all +the impatience and--and strangeness that he had last fall. It is that +dreadful spirit business. Oh, dear!” + +Galusha softly patted her shoulder. “I won't finish my story,” he +said, in a low tone. “It isn't necessary, because I can tell you +the--ah--moral, so to speak, and that will do as well. We found those +tombs at last by doing a thing which, we were all sure, was the worst +thing we could possibly do. It turned out to be that 'worst thing' which +saved us. And--and I wish you would think that over, Lulie,” he added, +earnestly. “It looked to be the very worst thing and--and it turned out +to be the best.... Ah--good-night.” + +But she detained him. “I don't understand, Mr. Bangs,” she said. “What +do you mean? You said you were going to tell me the moral of your story. +That isn't a moral, is it?” + +“Eh? No--ah--no. I suppose it isn't. But--but you think it over, to +please me, you know. A--a something which looked to be the worst +that could happen was the miracle that gave us our tombs. Perhaps +the--perhaps what you dread most may give you yours. Not your tomb; dear +me, no! I hope not. But may be the means of--of saving the situation. +There, there, I must go. Good-night.” + +“Wait, wait, Mr. Bangs.... Oh, yes, father, I'm coming now.... Mr. +Bangs, what DO you mean? What I dread the most? What I dread--I think I +dread that silly seance next Saturday night more than anything else. Mr. +Bangs, you don't mean--” + +“Now, now, now, Lulie. I mustn't say a word more. I--I have said too +much, I know. Just think over the--ah--moral, that's all. Think +it over--but don't mention it to any one else, please. Good-night. +Good-night, Captain Hallett.” + +He hurried away. Lulie stared after him, wonderingly; then she turned +and walked slowly and thoughtfully to the door. Her father regarded her +with a troubled expression. + +“I dreamed,” he said, slowly, “that Julia come to me and said somethin' +about you. I don't seem to recollect just what 'twas she said. But 'twas +somethin' about you--somethin' about me lookin' out for you.... Seem's +if,” he added, doubtfully, “as if she said you'd look out for me, but +that's just foolishness and wouldn't mean nothin'. It couldn't be, that +couldn't.... Humph! Well, come on in.” + +The remainder of that week the seance to be held in the light keeper's +cottage on Saturday evening was much talked about. The devout, including +the Beebes, the Hardings and the Blounts were quite excited about it. +The scoffers derided and waxed sarcastic. Of these scoffers the most +outspoken was Horatio Pulcifer. He declared that the whole fool business +made him tired. Old Cap'n Jeth Hallett must be getting cracked as one of +them antique plates. He wasn't sure that the selectmen hadn't ought to +stop the thing, a lot of ninnies sitting in a round circle holding hands +and pretending to get spirit messages. Huh! Just let 'em get a message +that proved something, that meant something to somebody, and he'd +believe, too, he'd be glad to believe. But he was from Missouri and +they'd got to show him. With much more to the same effect. + +In private, and in the ear of Galusha Bangs, he made a significant +remark. + +“Go?” he repeated. “Me go to that seance thing? Not so you'd notice +it, Perfessor. I'm what they call a wise bird. I get up early, a +consider'ble spell before breakfast. Um-hm, a consider'ble spell. +Saturday night I'm goin' to be a long ways from Gould's Bluffs +lighthouse, you bet on that.” + +Galusha expressed surprise and gave reasons for that emotion. Raish +winked and nodded. + +“Yes, I know,” he said, “but I'm goin' to have what they call an alibi. +You ain't been to court much, I presume likely, Perfessor, so you may +not be on to what alibi is. When Bill Alworthy was hauled up for sellin' +without a license we had an alibi for him. He proved he was fourteen +mile away from where he sold the stuff--I mean from where they said he +sold it--and it was that what got him off. Well, on Saturday night +I'm goin' to have an alibi. I'm goin' to be settin' in at a little +penny-ante in Elmer Rogers' back room over to the Centre. An alibi's +a nice thing to have in the house, Perfessor. Hey? Haw, haw, haw! Yes, +sir-ee! In case there's any talk they won't be able to pin much on your +Uncle Raish, not much they won't.” + +He nudged the Bangs' ribs and walked off, chuckling. Galusha, too, +smiled as he watched him go. Both he and Mr. Pulcifer seemed to find +amusement in the situation. Yet, and Galusha realized it, there was also +for him that element of risk. + +On Thursday Captain Jethro stopped at the Phipps' home to invite +its inmates to the Saturday evening meeting. His invitation was not +precisely whole-hearted, but the reason he gave for offering it caused +its acceptance. + +“Lulie seems to want you and Mr. Bangs,” he said, “so come along if you +feel like it. I know you're one of the don't-believers, Martha, and I +guess likely Bangs is, but never mind. The door's open if you want to +come. Maybe you'll hear somethin' that'll lead you to the light; let's +hope so. Anyhow, Lulie wants you.” + +It will be noticed that Primmie's name was not mentioned in the +invitation, but that did not prevent her acceptance. That evening, after +the supper dishes were washed, Miss Phipps heard agonized wails coming +from the kitchen and, going there, found her maid seated in a chair, +swaying back and forth, and, as Zach Bloomer once described a similar +performance, “tootin' her everlastin' soul into the harmonica.” + +“I'm practicin' up for Saturday night,” she informed her mistress, +cheerfully. “I've been tryin' to think up some other hymn tunes and I've +thought of one, but I can't remember what 'tis, the whole of it, I mean. +You know, Miss Martha, the one about: + + + 'Oh, what a sight 'twill be + When the somethin'-or-other host we see, + As numberless as the sands on the seashore.' + + +What kind of a host is it, Miss Martha? All I can think of is 'rancid' +and I'm plaguy sure 'tain't THAT.” + +Martha burst out laughing. “It is 'ransomed,' Primmie,” she said. “But +if you're figurin' on playin' that thing over at the seance, I'm afraid +you'll be disappointed. Cap'n Jethro has had the old melodeon repaired, +I believe. And, so far as I've heard, you haven't been asked to come, +have you?” + +Primmie became a statue of despair. + +“Oh, Miss Martha,” she pleaded, “CAN'T I go? Can't I please go? You're +goin' and so's Mr. Bangs, and--and I do like 'em so, those spirit +meetin's. They scare me 'most to death and I just love 'em. PLEASE can't +I go, Miss Martha?” + +Martha took pity on her. “Well, all right, Primmie,” she said. “Go, if +you want to. I don't believe Jethro will care. And,” with a shrug, “I +don't know as another idiot, more or less, added to the rest of us, will +make much difference.” + +Saturday, the eventful day, or the day of the eventful evening, was fine +and clear. At noon an unexpected event, the first of several, occurred; +Zacheus, bringing the mail from the post office, brought a large and +heavy letter addressed to Galusha Bangs, Esq., and stamped in the upper +left-hand corner with the name of the National Institute of Washington. +Galusha opened it in his room alone. It was the “plan,” the long-ago +announced and long-expected plan in all its details. An expedition was +to be fitted out, more completely and more elaborately than any yet +equipped by the Institute, and was to go to the Nile basin for extended +and careful research lasting two years at least. And he was offered +the command of that expedition, to direct its labors and to be its +scientific head. Whatever it accomplished, he would have accomplished; +the rewards--the understanding gratitude of his fellow archaeologists +the world over would be his, and his alone. + +He sat there in his room and read and reread the letter. The terms +in which the offer had been made were gratifying in the extreme. The +confidence in his ability and scientific knowledge were expressed +without stint. But, and more than this, between the lines he could read +the affection of his associates there at the Institute and their pride +in him. His own affection and pride were touched. A letter like this and +an offer and opportunity like these were wonderful. The pride he felt +was a very humble pride. He was unworthy of such trust, but he was proud +to know they believed him worthy. + +He sat there, the many sheets of the letter between his fingers, looking +out through the window at the brown, windswept hollows and little hills +and the cold gray-green sea beyond. He saw none of these. What he did +see was the long stretch of ridged sand, heaving to the horizon, the +brilliant blue of the African sky, the line of camels trudging on, on. +He saw the dahabeah slowly making its way up the winding river, the flat +banks on either side, the palm trees in silhouetted clusters against the +sunset, the shattered cornice of the ruins he was to explore just coming +into view. He saw and heard the shrieking, chattering laborers digging, +half naked, amid the scattered blocks of sculptured stone and, before +and beneath them, the upper edge of the doorway which they were +uncovering, the door behind which he was to find--who knew what +treasures. + +“Mr. Bangs,” called Martha from the foot of the stairs, “dinner's +ready.” + +Galusha was far away, somewhere beyond the Libyan desert, but he heard +the summons. + +“Eh?” he exclaimed. “Oh, yes, yes, Miss Martha, I am coming.” + +As he descended the stairs, it occurred to him that the voices calling +him to dinner across the sands or beneath the palms would be quite +different from this one, they would be masculine and strange and without +the pleasant, cheerful cordiality to which he had become accustomed. +Martha Phipps called one to a meal as if she really enjoyed having him +there. There was a welcome in her tones, a homelike quality, a... yes, +indeed, very much so. + +At table he was unusually quiet. Martha asked him why he looked at her +so queerly. + +“Eh? Do I?” he exclaimed. “Oh, I'm so sorry! I wasn't aware. I beg your +pardon. I hope you're not offended.” + +She laughed. “Mercy me,” she said, “I'm not offended so easily. And if +your absent-mindedness could make me take offense, Mr. Bangs, we +should have quarreled long ago. But I should like to know what you were +thinkin' about. You sat there and stared at me and your face was as +solemn as--as Luce's when it is gettin' past his dinner time. You looked +as if you had lost your best friend.” + +He did not smile even then. Nor did he make any reply worth noting. As a +matter of fact, he was awakening to the realization that if he accepted +the call to Egypt--and accept he must, of course--he would in solemn +truth lose his best friend. Or, if not lose her exactly, go away and +leave her for so long that it amounted to a loss. He must leave this +dining room, with its plants and old pictures and quaint homeliness, +leave the little Phipps' cottage, leave its owner.... The dazzling +visions of sands and sphinxes, of palms and pyramids, suddenly lost +their dazzle. The excitement caused by the reading of the letter dulled +and deadened. The conviction which had come upon him so often of late +returned with redoubled vigor, the conviction that he had been happy +where he was and would never be as happy anywhere else. Egypt, even +beloved Egypt with all the new and wonderful opportunities it now +offered him, did not appeal. The thought was alarming. When he did +not want to go to Egypt there must be something the matter with him, +something serious. What was it? + +After dinner he told her of the offer which had been made him. + +“Perhaps you would like to see the letter,” he said. “It is a very kind +one. Dear me, yes. Much kinder than I deserve.” + +She read the long letter through, read the details of the great plan +from end to end. When the reading was finished she sat silent, the +letter in her lap, and she did not look at him. + +“They are very kind to me, aren't they?” he said, gravely. “Very kind +and generous. The thought of it quite--ah--overwhelms me, really. Of +course, I know what they say concerning my--ah--the value of my service +is quite ridiculous, overstated and--and all that, but they do +that thinking to please me, I suppose. I... Why--why, Miss Martha, +you--you're not--” + +She smiled, a rather misty smile. “No,” she said, “I'm not. But I think +I shall if you keep on talkin' in that way.” + +“But--but, Miss Martha, I'm so sorry. I assure you I did not mean to +hurt your feelings. If I have said anything to distress you I'm VERY +sorry. Dear me, dear me! What did I say? I--” + +She motioned him to silence. “Hush, hush!” she begged. “You didn't say +anything, of course, except what you always say--that what you have +done doesn't amount to anything and that you aren't of any consequence +and--all that. You always say it, and you believe it, too. When I read +this letter, Mr. Bangs, and found that THEY know what you really are, +that they had found you out just as--as some of your other friends have, +it--it--” + +She paused. Galusha turned red. “I--I--” he stammered. “Oh, you mustn't +talk so, Miss Martha. It's all nonsense, you know. Really it is.” + +She shook her head and smiled once more. + +“All right,” she argued. “Then we'll call it nonsense; but it's pretty +glorious nonsense, seems to me. I do congratulate you, Mr. Bangs. And +I congratulate the Institute folks a great deal more. Now tell me some +more about it, please. Where is this place they want you to go to?” + +That afternoon Galusha spent in wandering about the countryside. He went +as far from home as the old graveyard in South Wellmouth. He took a long +walk and it should have been a pleasant one, but somehow it was not, +particularly. All he could think of was the two facts--one, that he had +been offered a wonderful opportunity, for which he should be eagerly and +hugely grateful; two, that he was not grateful at all, but resentful and +rebellious. And what on earth was the matter with him? + +Martha was setting the supper table when he came in. He went to his +room and when he came down supper was almost ready. Primmie was in the +kitchen, busy with the cooking. + +“We're having an early supper, Mr. Bangs,” said Martha. “That +everlastin' seance begins about half past seven, so Cap'n Jethro took +pains to tell me, and he'll be crosser'n a hen out in a rainstorm if +we're not on time.” + +Galusha looked surprised. He had forgotten the seance altogether. Yes, +he had quite forgotten it. And, up to that noon, he had thought of very +little else the entire week. What WAS the matter with him? + +“Lulie is goin' to send Zach over to tell us when they're ready to set +sail for Ghost Harbor,” went on Martha. “That will save us watchin' the +clock. What say?” + +But he had not said anything and she went on arranging the dishes. After +an interval she asked a question. + +“How soon--that is, when will you have to leave us--leave here, Mr. +Bangs?” she asked. She was not looking at him when she asked it. + +Galusha sighed. “In about two weeks, I--ah--suppose,” he said. + +“Oh!” + +“Ah--yes.” + +There was another silent interval. Then Martha turned her head to +listen. + +“Wasn't that an automobile I heard then?” she asked. “Yes, it is. It +can't be the Spiritualist crowd comin' so soon. No, it is stoppin' here, +at our gate. Is it Doctor Powers, I wonder?” + +She went to the window, pulled aside the shade and looked out. + +“It is a big car,” she said. “It isn't the doctor, that's sure. There's +a man gettin' out, a big man in a fur coat. Who on earth--?” + +Steps sounded without upon the walk, then there was a knock upon the +side door, that of the dining room. Martha opened the door. A man's +voice, a brisk, businesslike voice, asked a question. + +“Why, yes,” replied Miss Phipps, “he lives here. He's right here now. +Won't you step in?” + +The man who had asked the question accepted the invitation and entered +the dining room. He was a big, broad-shouldered man in a raccoon motor +coat. He took off a cap which matched the coat and looked about the +room. Then he saw Galusha. + +“Why, hello, Loosh!” he said. + +Galusha knew him, had recognized the voice before he saw its owner. His +mouth opened, shut, and opened again. He was quite pale. + +“Ah--ah--why, Cousin Gussie!” he stammered. + +For the man in the fur coat standing there in Martha Phipps' dining room +was the senior partner of Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +For perhaps thirty seconds after the exchange of greetings, the trio +in the Phipps' dining room stood where they were, practically without +moving. Mr. Cabot, of course, was smiling broadly, Miss Phipps was +gazing in blank astonishment from one to the other of the two men, and +Galusha Bangs was staring at his relative as Robinson Crusoe stared at +the famous footprint, “like one thunderstruck.” + +It was Cabot who broke up the tableau. His smile became a hearty laugh. + +“What's the matter, Loosh?” he demanded. “Great Scott, old man, I +expected to surprise you, but I didn't expect to give you a paralytic +stroke. How are you?” + +He walked over and held out his hand. Galusha took it, but he looked +as if he was quite unaware of doing so. “Cousin Gussie!” he repeated, +faintly. Then he added his favorite exclamation. “Dear me!” + +Even Martha, who by this time was used to his eccentricities, thought +his conduct strange. + +“Why, Mr. Bangs,” she cried, “are you sick? What is it?” + +Galusha blinked, put a hand to his forehead, knocked off his spectacles, +picked them up again and, in doing so, appeared to pick up a little of +his normal self. + +“Why, Cousin Gussie,” he observed, for the third time; adding, “I--I am +surprised.” + +His cousin's laugh made the little room echo. + +“Good, Loosh!” he exclaimed. “I guessed as much; you looked it. Well, it +is all right; I'm here in the flesh. Aren't you glad to see me?” + +Galusha stammered that he was very glad to see him--yes, +indeed--ah--quite so--very, of course. + +“Ah--ah--won't you sit down?” he asked. + +Martha could stand it no longer. “Why, mercy's sakes, Mr. Bangs,” she +exclaimed, “of course he'll sit down! And he'd probably take off his +coat, if you asked him.” + +This pointed hint had an immediate effect. Her lodger sprang forward. + +“Oh, dear me!” he cried. “I'm so sorry. Of course, of course. I BEG your +pardon, Cousin Gussie.” + +He hindered a little more than he helped with the removal of the coat +and then stood, with the garment in his arms, peering over the heap of +fur like a spectacled prairie-dog peeping out of a hole. + +“Ah--sit down, sit down, please,” he begged. “I--ah--please do.” + +Again Martha interrupted. “Here, let me take that coat, Mr. Bangs,” + she said, and took it forthwith. Galusha, coming to himself still more, +remembered the conventionalities. + +“Oh, Miss Phipps,” he cried, “may I introduce my--ah--cousin, Mr. Cabot. +Mr. Cabot, this is the lady who has taken charge of me, so to speak.” + +Both Martha and Cabot burst out laughing. + +“That sounds as if I had arrested him, doesn't it?” observed the former. +“But it is all right, Mr. Cabot; I've only taken him to board.” + +“I understand. Well, unless he has changed a lot since I used to know +him, he needs some one to take charge of him. And it agrees with him, +too. Why, Loosh, I thought you were an invalid; you look like a football +player. Oh, pardon me, Miss Phipps, but don't trouble to take that coat +away. I can stay only a little while. My chauffeur is waiting outside +and I must get on to the hotel or I'll be late for dinner.” + +Martha, who was on her way to the hall and the coat rack, turned. +“Hotel?” she repeated. “What hotel, Mr. Cabot?” + +“Why, the Something-or-other House over in the next town. The Robbins +House, is it? Something like that.” + +“Robbins House? There isn't any. Oh, do you mean Roger's Hotel at the +Centre?” + +“Why, yes, that is it. I was told there was a hotel here, but they +forgot to tell me it was open only in the summer. What sort of place is +this Roger's Hotel?” + +Martha looked at him and then at Galusha. + +“Altogether too bad for any relation of Mr. Bangs's to go to,” she +declared. “At least, to eat supper. You and Mr. Bangs will excuse me, +won't you? I'll be right back.” + +She hung the fur coat upon the rack and hastened back through the dining +room and out into the kitchen. Cabot took a chair and turned toward +Galusha. + +“She is a capable woman,” he observed, with a jerk of his head toward +the kitchen door. “She has certainly taken good care of you. You look +better than when I saw you last and that was--Good Lord, how long ago +was it?” + +Galusha replied that it was a good many years ago and then switched the +subject to that which was causing painful agitation in his bosom at +the moment, namely, the reason for his cousin's appearance in East +Wellmouth. + +Cousin Gussie laughed. “I came to see you, Loosh,” he declared. “Family +ties, and all that. I thought I would run down and get you to picnic on +the beach with me. How is the bathing just now?” + +The chill October wind rattled the sash and furnished answer sufficient. +Galusha smiled a sad sort of acknowledgment of the joke. He did not feel +like smiling. The sensation of sitting on a powder barrel had returned +to him, except that now there was no head to the barrel and the air was +full of sparks. + +“I--I did not expect you,” he faltered, for the sake of saying +something. Cabot laughed again. + +“Of course you didn't,” he said. “Well, to tell you the truth, I didn't +come purposely to see you, old man. There has been a little business +matter down here which hasn't gone as I wanted it to, and I decided, +pretty much on the spur of the moment, to motor down and see what was +the matter. The friend for whom I was trying to handle the thing--it is +only a little matter--was coming with me, but this morning I got a wire +that he was detained and couldn't make it. So, as it was a glorious +day and my doctor keeps telling me to forget business occasionally, I +started alone. I didn't leave town until nearly eleven, had some motor +trouble, and didn't reach here until almost five. Then I found the +fellow I came to see had gone somewhere, nobody knew where, and the +hotel was closed for the season. I inquired about you, was given your +address at the post office, and hunted you up. That's the story.” + +Galusha's smile was less forced this time. He nodded reflectively. + +“That explains it,” he said, slowly. “Yes, quite so. Of course, that +explains it.” + +“Explains what?” + +“Why--ah--it explains why you came here, you know.” + +“Well, I hope it does. That was the idea. If it doesn't I don't know +what will.” + +Miss Phipps entered briskly from the kitchen. She proceeded to set +another place at the supper table. + +“Mr. Bangs,” she said, “hadn't you better take Mr. Cabot up to your +room? Probably he'd like to clean up after ridin' so far. Better go +right away, because supper is nearly ready. Mr. Cabot, it is Saturday +night and you'll get a Saturday night supper, beans and brown bread. I +hope you won't mind.” + +Galusha's relative was somewhat taken aback. + +“Why, Miss Phipps,” he protested, “of course I can't think of dining +here. It is extremely kind of you, but really I--” + +Martha calmly interrupted. “It isn't kind at all,” she said. “And +it isn't dinner, it is supper. If you don't stay I shall think it is +because you don't like baked beans. I may as well tell you,” she added, +“that you will get beans and nothin' else over at Elmer Roger's. They +won't be as good as these, that's all. That isn't pride,” she continued, +with a twinkle in her eye. “Anybody's beans are better than Elmer's, +they couldn't help bein'.” + +The visitor still hesitated. “Well, really, Miss Phipps,” he said, +“I--Well, I should like to stay. I should, indeed. But, you see, my +chauffeur is outside waiting to take me over to the Roger's House.” + +Martha smiled. “Oh, no, he isn't,” she said. “He is havin' his supper +in the kitchen now. Run along, Mr. Bangs, and you and your cousin hurry +down as soon as you can.” + +On the way upstairs Cabot asked a question. + +“She is a 'reg'lar' woman, as the boys say,” he observed. “I like her. +Does she always, so to speak, boss people like that?” + +Galusha nodded, cheerfully. “When she thinks they need it,” he replied. + +“Humph! I understand now what you meant by saying she had taken charge +of you. Does she boss you?” + +Another cheerful nod. “I ALWAYS need it,” answered Galusha. + +Martha, of course, presided at the supper table. Primmie did not sit +down with the rest. She ate in the kitchen with the Cabot chauffeur. +But she entered the dining room from time to time to bring in hot brown +bread or beans or cookies, or to change the plates, and each time she +did so she stared at Cousin Gussie with awe in her gaze. Evidently the +knowledge that the head of Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot was sitting there +before her had impressed her hugely. It was from Cabot, Bancroft and +Cabot, so Primmie remembered, that Mr. Bangs had procured the mammoth +pile of bank notes which she had seen upon her mistress's center table. +She had never actually been told where those notes came from, but she +had guessed. And now the proprietor of the “money factory”--for that is +very nearly what it was in her imagination--was there, sitting at the +Phipps' 'dining table, eating the baked beans that she herself had +helped prepare. No wonder that Primmie was awe-stricken, no wonder +that she tripped over the mat corner and just escaped showering the +distinguished guest with a platterful of those very beans. + +Mr. Cabot seemed to enjoy his supper hugely. He was jolly, talkative, +and very entertaining. He described his camp sojourn in Nevada and, +according to him, life in a mountain sanitarium, under the care of a +doctor and two husky male nurses, was a gorgeous joke. Martha, who, to +tell the truth, had at first secretly shown a little of Primmie's awe, +was soon completely at ease. Even Galusha laughed, though not as often. +It was hard for him to forget the powder barrel sensation. Each time +his cousin opened his mouth to speak, he dreaded to hear reference to a +dangerous subject or to be asked a question which would set fire to the +fuse. + +The clock struck seven. Martha glanced at it and suddenly uttered an +exclamation. + +“My goodness gracious!” she exclaimed. “I declare, Mr. Bangs, you and +I have forgotten all about that blessed seance. And half past seven was +the time for it to begin. Good gracious me!” + +Galusha started. “Dear me, dear me!” he cried. “So it was. I had +completely forgotten it, really I had.” + +He put his hand to his forehead. + +“I shall have to go to it,” declared Martha. “Lulie begged me to come +and the cap'n won't like it if I stay away. But I don't see that you +need to, Mr. Bangs. You and your cousin can stay right here and talk +and be comfortable. He is goin' to stay overnight. Oh, yes, you are, Mr. +Cabot. I wouldn't let a stray cat go to Elmer Roger's hotel if I could +help it, to say nothin' of Mr. Bangs' cousin. The spare room's all ready +and Primmie is up there now, airin' it. She took your bag up with her; I +had your chauffeur bring it in from the car.” + +Her guest stared at her for a moment, laughed and shook his head. + +“Well, really, Miss Phipps,” he said, “I don't know what to say to you. +You rather take me off my feet. It is very kind of you and, of course, I +am very much obliged; but, of course, too, I couldn't think of staying.” + +“Now, please, Mr. Cabot! It isn't the least little bit of trouble, and +that's honest. Mr. Bangs, you tell him to stay.” + +Galusha, thus appealed to, tried to say something, but succeeded only in +looking distressed. + +“We WANT him to stay, don't we, Mr. Bangs?” urged Martha. + +“Why--why, certainly. Oh, yes, indeed. Ah--yes,” faltered Galusha. If +there was one thing which he distinctly did not want, it was just that. +And there was no doubt that Cabot was wavering. + +“But, you see, Miss Phipps,” said Cousin Gussie, “it will be quite +impossible. My chauffeur--” + +“Yes, I know. I'm awfully sorry I haven't got a room for him. I wish I +had. But he can go to Elmer's. He wouldn't mind so much--at least I hope +he wouldn't--and there's a garage for the car over there. I spoke to him +about it and he's only waitin' for you to say the word, Mr. Cabot.” + +The visitor protested a bit more and then yielded. “Frankly, Miss +Phipps,” he said, “I have been wanting to stay ever since I entered your +door. This house takes me back to my boyhood, when I used to visit my +great-uncle Hiram down at Ostable. You remember him, Galusha, Uncle +Hiram's dining room had the same wholesome, homey atmosphere that yours +has, Miss Phipps. And I honestly believe I haven't enjoyed a meal since +those old days as I have enjoyed this supper of yours.” + +Martha colored with pleasure. Galusha, forgetting his powder barrel, +beamed in sympathy. + +“But there is just one more thing,” continued Cousin Gussie. “You +and Bangs were going out somewhere, were expected at some--er--social +affair, weren't you?” + +Miss Phipps and her lodger exchanged looks. Both appeared embarrassed. + +“Well--well, you see,” faltered the former. Then, after a moment's +reflection, she added, “Well, I'll tell you, Mr. Cabot.” + +She did tell him, briefly, of Captain Hallett's spirit obsession, of +her friendship and sympathy for Lulie. She said nothing, of course, +concerning the latter's love story. + +“So,” she said, in conclusion, “although I haven't the least bit of +belief in Marietta Hoag or any of her seances, I am sorry for Cap'n +Jethro and I am very fond of Lulie. She is worried, I know, and she +has asked me to be there tonight. You and Mr. Bangs will excuse me, +everything considered, won't you?” + +But Galusha had something to say. “Miss Martha,” he said, “I am afraid I +must go, too. I promised Mr.--ah--um--I mean I promised Lulie I would be +there. And this is going to be a very important seance.” + +Martha turned to him. + +“It is?” she asked. “Important--how? What do you mean?” + +Her lodger looked as if he had said more than he intended. Also as if he +did not know what to say next. But Cabot saved him the trouble. + +“I wonder if I might attend this--er--function?” he suggested. “It is +in the nature of a public affair, isn't it? And,” with a twinkle of the +eye, “it sounds as if it might be interesting.” + +Galusha and Miss Phipps regarded him gravely. Both seemed a little +troubled. It was Martha who answered. + +“There isn't any real reason why you shouldn't go, if you want to, Mr. +Cabot,” she said. “There is only one thing--only one reason why I didn't +say yes right away. I guess Mr. Bangs knows that reason and feels the +same as I do about it. Don't you, Mr. Bangs?” + +Galusha nodded. + +“You see,” went on Miss Phipps, “Cap'n Hallett is kind of--well, queer +in some ways, but he has been, in his day, a good deal of a man. And his +daughter is a lovely girl and I think the world of her. I wouldn't +want to hurt their feelings. If they should see you laugh--well, you +understand--” + +Cousin Gussie nodded. + +“Don't say any more, Miss Phipps,” he replied. “It is quite all right. +I'll stay in your home here and be perfectly happy.” + +“But you didn't wait for me to finish. I was goin' to say that if you +should laugh you must manage not to let any one hear you; especially +Cap'n Jeth. Lulie has lots of common sense; she wouldn't mind except +for the effect on her father, and she realizes how funny it is. But +her father doesn't and--and he is pretty close to the breakin' point +sometimes. So save up your laughs until we get back, please.” + +“You seem to take it for granted that I shall feel like laughing. +Perhaps I sha'n't. I only suggested my attending this affair because I +thought it would be a novelty to me.” + +“Yes, yes, of course. Well, it will be a novelty, I guess likely, and a +pretty novel novelty, too. But there's one thing more, Mr. Cabot, that I +want you to promise me. Don't you dare take that crowd at that seance as +a fair sample of Wellmouth folks, because they're not.” + +“Why, Miss Phipps--” + +“Because they're not. Every town and every neighborhood, city or +country, has its freaks and every freak within five miles will be over +in that lighthouse parlor to-night. Just take 'em for freaks, that's +all, but DON'T take 'em for samples of our people down here.” She +paused, and then added, with an apologetic laugh, “I guess you think +I am pretty peppery on the subject. Well, I get that way at times, +particularly just after the summer is over and the city crowd has been +here lookin' for 'characters.' If you could see some of the specimens +who come over from the hotel, see the way they dress and act and speak! +'Oh,' one creature said to me; 'oh, Miss Phipps,' she gushed, 'I am just +dyin' to meet some of your dear, funny, odd, quaint characters. Where +can I find them?' 'Well,' said I, 'I think I should try the Inn, if I +were you. There are funnier characters there than anywhere else I know.' +Of course, I knew she was at the Inn herself, but that didn't make it +any the less true.... There! I've preached my sermon. Now, Mr. Cabot, +we'll go into the sittin' room and let Primmie clear off the table. Zach +Bloomer--he's the assistant light keeper--is comin' to tell us when it's +time to go to the seance.” + +In the sitting room they talked of various things. Galusha, listening to +his cousin's stories and jokes, had almost forgotten his powder barrel. +And then, all at once, a spark fell, flashed, and the danger became +imminent. + +Said the banker, addressing Martha and referring to her lodger: “What +does this cousin of mine find to do down here, Miss Phipps? How does he +manage to spend so much money?” + +“Money?” repeated Martha. “He--spend money? Why, I didn't know that he +did, Mr. Cabot. He is very prompt in paying his board. Perhaps I charge +him too much. Is that what you mean?” + +“I guess not. He hasn't paid you thirteen thousand dollars for board, +has he?” + +“Thirteen thousand dollars! Well, I guess not--scarcely. What are you +talkin' about, Mr. Cabot? What is the joke?” + +“I don't know. That's one of the things which, now that I am down here, +I should like to find out. Somehow or other, since he has been on the +Cape, he has managed to get rid of over thirteen thousand dollars. He +SAYS he has given it to some of his mummy-hunting friends, but I am +rather suspicious. He hasn't been organizing a clam trust, has he, Miss +Phipps?” + +Plainly, Martha did not know what to make of this speech. It was a joke, +of course, but just where the point of the joke was located she was not +sure. To her, thirteen thousand dollars was an enormous sum. The idea +that her lodger, gentle, retiring little Galusha Bangs, possessed a half +of that fortune was a joke in itself. But... And then she saw Galusha's +face and the expression upon it. + +“Why--why, Mr. Bangs!” she exclaimed. + +Cabot turned and he, too, saw the expression. He burst out laughing. + +“See!” he cried. “Doesn't he look guilty? It IS a clam trust, Miss +Phipps. By Jove, Loosh, you are discovered! Galusha Bangs, the Clam +King! Ha, ha, ha! Look at him, Miss Phipps! Look at him! Did you ever +see a plainer case of conscious guilt? Ha, ha!” + +He was enjoying himself hugely. And really Galusha was a humorous +spectacle. He was very red in the face, he was trembling, and he +appeared to be struggling for words and finding none. + +“I--I insist,” he stammered. “I--I mean I protest. It is +ridiculous--ah--ah--absurd! I--I--” + +His cousin broke in upon him. “Ha, ha!” he cried. “The secret is out. +And you gave me to understand the mummy-hunters had it. Oh, Galusha!” + +Galusha made another attempt. + +“I--I told you--” he faltered. “I--I told you--” + +“You told me it had gone to Egypt. But I was suspicious, old man. Why, +Miss Phipps, isn't it glorious? Look at him!” + +Martha was looking. Her face wore a puzzled expression. + +“Isn't it glorious?” repeated Cousin Gussie. + +She shrugged. “I suppose it is,” she said. “Maybe it would be more so if +I knew what it was all about. And Mr. Bangs doesn't look as if he found +much glory in it.” + +“Of course he doesn't. Serves him right, the rascal. You see, Miss +Phipps, I am supposed to take care of his money for him, and, while +I was away in the mountains, my secretary sent him a check for over +fourteen thousand dollars, sent it to him by mistake. _I_ never should +have done it, of course. I know him of old, where money is concerned. +Well, almost immediately after receiving the check, up he comes to our +Boston office and--” + +“Cousin Gussie! I--I protest! I--” + +“Up he comes, Miss Phipps, and draws five thousand of the fourteen +thousand in cash, in money, and takes it away with him. Then--” + +“Cousin Gussie! Mr. Cabot!” + +The tone in which Galusha spoke was so different from his usual one, and +the fact of his addressing his relative as “Mr. Cabot” so astonishing, +that the latter was obliged to stop even in the full tide of his +enjoyment of the joke. He turned, to find Galusha leaning forward, one +hand upon the center table, and the other extending a forefinger in his +direction. The finger shook a little, but its owner's countenance was +set like a rock. And now it was not crimson, but white. + +“Mr. Cabot,” said Galusha, “I must insist that you say no more on +this matter. My personal business is--ah--presumably my own. I--I must +insist. Insist--ah--absolutely; yes.” + +His cousin looked at him and he returned the look. Cabot's hesitation +was but momentary. His astonishment was vast, but he accepted the +situation gracefully. He laughed no more. + +“I beg your pardon, Galusha,” he said. “I'm sorry. I had no thought +of offending you, old man. I--well, perhaps I am inclined to joke too +freely. But, really, I didn't suppose--I never knew you to be--” + +He paused. Galusha's expression did not change; he said nothing. + +“I am very sorry,” went on the banker. “It was only thoughtlessness on +my part. You'll forgive me, Loosh, I hope.” + +Galusha bowed, but he did not smile. A little of the color came back to +his cheeks. + +“Ah--ah--Yes, certainly,” he stammered. “Certainly, quite so.” + +He sat down in his chair again, but he did not look in Miss Phipps' +direction. He seemed to know that she was regarding him with a fixed and +startled intentness. + +“Five thousand dollars!” she said, in a low tone. Neither of the men +appeared to hear her. Cabot, too, sat down. And it was he who, plainly +seeking for a subject to relieve the tension, spoke next. + +“I was telling my cousin,” he said, addressing Martha, “that I came down +here to attend to a little matter of business. The business wasn't my +own exactly, but it was a commission from a friend and client of mine +and he left it in my charge. He and I supposed we had an agent here in +your town, Miss Phipps, who was attending to it for us, but of late he +hasn't been very successful. I received a letter from Williams--from my +friend; he is in the South--asking me to see if I couldn't hurry matters +up a bit. So I motored down. But this agent of ours was not in. Probably +you know him. His name is Pulcifer.” + +Martha and Galusha started simultaneously. + +“Pulcifer?” queried Martha. “Raish Pulcifer, do you mean?” + +“It doesn't seem to me that his Christian name is--What did you say, +Miss Phipps?” + +“I said 'Raish'; that's what every one down here calls the man I mean. +His real name, of course, is Horatio.” + +“Horatio? That sounds more like it. I didn't hire him--Williams did +that--and I have never met him, although he and Thomas, my secretary, +have had some correspondence. Wait a moment, I have his name here.” + +He took from his pocket a memorandum book and turned over the leaves. + +“Yes,” he said, “that's it. Horatio Pulcifer. Here is his card. 'Horatio +Pulcifer, Dealer in Real Estate of All Kinds; Cranberry Bog Property +Bought and Sold; Mortgages Arranged For; Fire, Life and Accident +Insurance; Money Loaned; Claims Adjusted; Real or Household Goods +Auctioned Off or Sold Private; etc., etc.' Humph! Comprehensive person, +isn't he? Is this the fellow you know, Miss Phipps?” + +Martha nodded. “Yes,” she said, “I know him.” + +Cabot glanced at her. “I see,” he observed. “Well, what sort of a +character is he? Would you trust him?” + +She hesitated. “Why--why,” she replied, “I suppose I should, if--if--” + +“If he was not too far away, or around the corner, or anything like +that? I understand.” + +Martha was a bit disturbed. “You mustn't put words in my mouth, Mr. +Cabot,” she said. “I didn't say Raish Pulcifer was dishonest.” + +“No, that is true. And I beg your pardon for asking embarrassing +questions. I have seen some of the fellow's letters and usually a letter +is a fairly good indication of character--or lack of it. I have had my +surmises concerning the ubiquitous Horatio for some time.” + +Martha seemed to be thinking. + +“I understood you to say he was your agent for somethin' down here, Mr. +Cabot,” she said. “Sellin' somethin', was he? That kind of an agent?” + +“No. As a matter of fact, he was supposed to be buying something, but he +hasn't made much progress. He started out well, but of late he seems +to have found trouble. I am rather surprised because we--that is, +Williams--pay him a liberal commission. I judge he doesn't hate a +dollar and that kind of man usually goes after it hammer and tongs. You +see--But there, I presume I should not go into particulars, not yet.” + +“No, no, Mr. Cabot. Of course not, of course not.” + +“No.” Cabot had been turning over the leaves of the memorandum book +while speaking. “And yet,” he went on, “there are one or two names here +concerning which you might be able to help us. Pulcifer writes that +two of the largest stockholders.... Humph!... Eh? Why, by Jove, this is +remarkable! You are Miss Martha Phipps, aren't you?” + +“Yes.” + +“Was your father, by any chance, James H. Phipps?” + +“Yes.” + +“Well, I declare! This IS remarkable.... And--why, you have been +speaking of a Captain--er--Jethro Somebody? Is he--He isn't Jethro +Hallett, is he?” + +“Why, yes. I told you his name. He is the light keeper here at Gould's +Bluffs and we are all goin' over to his house in a few minutes, for the +seance, you know.” + +“Well, well, well! And here I have been sitting and talking with one of +the very persons whom I came down here hoping to see.” + +“To see? You came down here hopin' to see ME? Mr. Cabot, is this another +joke?” + +“Not a bit of it. If it is, the joke is on me for not identifying you +with the Martha Phipps that Pulcifer writes he can't do business with. +Miss Phipps, you own something we want to buy.” + +“I? Somethin' you want to buy?” + +“Yes. Williams wants to buy it and I am interested with him. Miss +Phipps, you own two hundred and fifty shares of the stock of the +Wellmouth Development Company, don't you?” + +He must have been surprised at the effect of this question. Martha +stared at him. Then, without speaking, she turned and looked past him at +Galusha Bangs. She looked so long and so steadily that Cabot also turned +and looked. What he saw caused him to utter an exclamation. + +“For heaven's sakes, Loosh!” he exclaimed. + +His cousin, as white as the proverbial sheet, which means much whiter +than some sheets, Elmer Rogers', for example, was slowly rising from his +chair. One hand was pressed against his forehead and he looked as if he +were dazed, stunned, suffering from a stroke. As a matter of fact, he +was suffering from all three. The spark had at last reached the powder +and the barrel was in the very act of disintegrating. + +“Galusha,” demanded Cousin Gussie, “are you sick? What is it?” + +Galusha did not answer. Before the alarmed banker could repeat his +question there came a knock at the door. + +“Miss Martha,” called Primmie, in tremulous excitement. “Miss Martha, +Zach he's come and he says the seance is just a-goin' to begin and Cap'n +Jeth says to hurry right straight over. Zach says the old man is as +tittered up and nervous as ever he see him and 'twon't do to keep him +waitin' a minute. My savin' soul, no! Zach says for all hands to heave +right straight ahead and come.” + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +In the melodramas, the sort which most people laugh at as +“old-fashioned” and enjoy thoroughly, there is usually a scene in +which the hero, or the heroine, or both, are about to be drowned in +the sinking ship or roasted in the loft of the burning building, or +butchered by the attacking savages, or executed by the villain and his +agents. The audience enjoys some delightful thrills while watching +this situation--whichever it may be--develop, but is spared any acute +anxiety, knowing from experience that just at the last moment the +rescuing boat, or the heroic firemen, or the troops, or a reprieve from +the Governor, will arrive and save the leading man or woman and the play +from a premature end and for another act. + +It does not happen as often in real life, at least one cannot count +upon it with the certainty of the theater. But when Miss Primrose Cash +knocked upon the door of the Phipps' sitting room and delivered her +call to the seance, she was as opportune and nick-of-timey as was ever +a dramatic Governor's messenger. Certainly that summons of hers was to +Galusha Bangs a reprieve which saved him from instant destruction. + +Cousin Gussie, who had been on the point of repeating his demand to know +if his relative was ill, turned instead to look toward the door. Martha, +whose gaze had been fixed upon her lodger with an intentness which +indicated at least the dawning of a suspicion, turned to look in +the same direction. Galusha, left poised upon the very apex of the +explosion, awaited the moment when the fragments, of which he was one, +should begin to fall. + +But they did not fall--then. Primmie gave them no opportunity to do so. + +“Miss Martha,” she cried, “Miss Martha, do you hear me? Zach--he says--” + +Her mistress answered. “Yes, yes, Primmie,” she said, “I hear you.” + Then, turning again toward the banker and his relative, she said, “Mr. +Cabot, I--did I understand you to say--?” + +“Miss Martha!” The voice outside the door was more insistent than ever. +“Miss Martha, Zach he says we've all hands got to come right straight +off, 'cause if we don't there'll be hell to pay.... My savin' soul, I +never meant to say that, Miss Martha! Zach, he said it, but _I_ never +meant to. I--I--Oh, my Lord of Isrul! I--I--oh, Miss Martha!” + +Further wails of the frightened and repentant one were lost in an +ecstatic shout of laughter from Mr. Cabot. Martha slowly shook her head. + +“Well,” she observed, dryly, “I guess likely we'd better go, hadn't +we? If it is as bad as all that I should say we had, sure and certain. +Primmie Cash, I'm ashamed of you. Mr. Cabot, we'll finish our talk when +we come back. What under the sun you can possibly mean I declare I don't +understand.... But, there, it will keep. Come, Mr. Bangs.” + +She led the way from the sitting room. Cabot followed her and, +staggering slightly and with a hand still pressed to his forehead, +Galusha followed them. He was saved for the time, he realized that, but +for such a very short time. For an hour or two he was to hang in the air +and then would come the inevitable crash. When they returned home, after +the seance was over, Martha would question Cousin Gussie, Cousin Gussie +would answer, then he would be questioned and--and the end would come. +Martha would know him for what he was. As they emerged from the Phipps' +door into the damp chill and blackness of that October evening, Galusha +Bangs looked hopelessly up and down and for the first time in months +yearned for Egypt, to be in Egypt, in Abyssinia, in the middle of the +great Sahara--anywhere except where he was and where he was fated to be. + +The windows of the light keeper's cottage were ablaze as they drew near. +Overhead the great stream of radiance from the lantern in the tower shot +far out. There was almost no wind, and the grumble of the surf at the +foot of the bluff was a steady bass monotone. + +Zacheus, who had waited to walk over with them, was in a fault-finding +state of mind. It developed that he could not attend the meeting in the +parlor; his superior had ordered that he “tend light.” + +“The old man says I hadn't no business comin' to the other sea-ants +thing,” said Zach. “Says him and me ain't both supposed never to leave +the light alone. I cal'late he's right, but that don't make it any +better. There's a whole lot of things that's right that hadn't ought to +be. I presume likely it's right enough for you to play that mouth organ +of yours, Posy. They ain't passed no law against it yet. But--” + +“Oh, be still, Zach Bloomer! You're always talkin' about my playin' the +mouth organ. I notice you can't play anything, no, nor sing neither.” + +“You're right, Pansy Blossom. But the difference between you and me +is that I know I can't.... Hey? Why, yes, Martha, I shouldn't be a bit +surprised if the fog came in any time. If it does that means I've got to +tend foghorn as well as light. Godfreys!” + +Before they opened the side door of the Hallett home, the buzz of voices +in the parlor was distinctly audible. Lulie heard the door open and met +them in the dining room. She was looking anxious and disturbed. Martha +drew her aside and questioned her concerning her father. Lulie glanced +toward the parlor door and then whispered: + +“I don't know, Martha. Father seems queer to-night, awfully queer. I +can't make him out.” + +“Queer? In what way? He is always nervous and worked up before these +silly affairs, isn't he?” + +“Yes, but I don't mean that, exactly. He has been that way for over a +week. But for the last two days he has been--well, different. He seems +to be troubled and--and suspicious.” + +“Suspicious? Suspicious of what?” + +“I don't know. Of every one.” + +“Humph! Well, if he would only begin to get suspicious of Marietta and +her spirit chasers I should feel like givin' three cheers. But I suppose +those are exactly the ones he isn't suspicious of.” + +Lulie again glanced toward the parlor door. + +“I am not so sure,” she said. “It seemed to me that he wasn't as cordial +to them as usual when they came to-night. He keeps looking at Marietta +and pulling his beard and scowling, the way he does when he is puzzled +and troubled. I'm not sure, but I think something came in the mail +yesterday noon and another something again to-day which may be the cause +of his acting so strangely. I don't know what they were, he wouldn't +answer when I asked him, but I saw him reading a good deal yesterday +afternoon. And then he came into the kitchen where I was, took the lid +off the cookstove and put a bundle of printed pages on the fire. I asked +him what he was doing and he snapped at me that he was burning the words +of Satan or something of that sort.” + +“And couldn't you save enough of the--er--Old Scratch's words to find +out what the old boy was talkin' about?” + +“No. There was a hot fire. But to-day, when the second package came, +I caught a glimpse of the printing on the wrapper. It was from The +Psychical Research Society; I think that was it. There is such a +society, isn't there?” + +“I believe so. I... Ssh! Careful, here he is.” + +Captain Jethro strode across the parlor threshold. He glared beneath his +heavy eyebrows at the couple. + +“Lulie,” he growled, “don't you know you're keepin' the meetin' waitin'? +You are, whether you know it or not. Martha Phipps, come in and set +down. Come on, lively now!” + +Martha smiled. + +“Cap'n Jeth,” she said, “you remind me of father callin' in the cat. +You must think you're aboard your old schooner givin' orders. All right, +I'll obey 'em. Ay, ay, sir! Come, Lulie.” + +They entered the parlor, whither Galusha, Mr. Cabot and Primmie had +preceded them and were already seated. The group in the room was made +up about as on the occasion of the former seance, but it was a trifle +larger. The tales of the excitement on the evening when the light keeper +threatened to locate and destroy the “small, dark outsider” had spread +and had attracted a few additional and hopeful souls. Mr. Obed Taylor, +driver of the Trumet bake-cart, and a devout believer, had been drawn +from his home village; Miss Tamson Black, her New Hampshire visit +over, was seated in the front row; Erastus Beebe accompanied his sister +Ophelia. The Hardings, Abel and Sarah B., were present and accounted +for, and so, too, was Mrs. Hannah Peters. + +Galusha Bangs, seated between Miss Cash and the immensely interested +Cousin Gussie, gazed dully about the circle. He saw little except a blur +of faces; his thoughts were elsewhere, busy in dreadful anticipation of +the scene he knew he must endure when he and his cousin and Miss +Phipps returned to the house of the latter. He did not dare look in +her direction, fearing to see once more upon her face the expression +of suspicion which he had already seen dawning there--suspicion of him, +Galusha Bangs. He sighed, and the sigh was so near a groan that his +relative was startled. + +“What's the matter, Galusha?” he whispered. “Brace up, old man! you look +as if you were seeing spooks already. Not sick--faint, or anything like +that?” + +Galusha blushed. “Eh?” he queried. “Oh--oh, no, no. Quite so, really. +Eh? Ah--yes.” + +Cabot chuckled. “That's a comprehensive answer, at any rate,” he +observed. “Come now, be my Who's-Who. For example, what is the name of +the female under the hat like a--a steamer basket?” + +Galusha looked. “That is Miss Hoag, the--ah--medium,” he said. + +“Oh, I see. Did the spirits build that hat for her?” + +Miss Hoag's headgear was intrinsically the same she had worn at the +former seance, although the arrangement of the fruit, flowers, sprays +and other accessories was a trifle different. The red cherries, for +example, no longer bobbed at the peak of the roof; they now hung +jauntily from the rear eaves, so to speak. The purple grapes had also +moved and peeped coyly from a thicket of moth-eaten rosebuds. The wearer +of this revamped millinery triumph seemed a bit nervous, even anxious, +so it seemed to Martha Phipps, who, like Cabot and Galusha, was looking +at her. Marietta kept hitching in her seat, pulling at her gown, and +glancing from time to time at the gloomy countenance of Captain Jethro, +who, Miss Phipps also noticed, was regarding her steadily and slowly +pulling at his beard. This regard seemed to add to Miss Hoag's +uneasiness. + +The majority of those present were staring at the senior partner of +Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot. The object of the attention could not help +becoming aware of it. + +“What are they all looking at me for?” he demanded, under his breath. + +Galusha did not hear the question, but Primmie did, and answered it. + +“They don't know who you be,” she whispered. + +“What of it? I don't know who they are, either.” + +Miss Cash sniffed. “Humph!” she declared, “you wouldn't know much worth +knowin' if you did--the heft of 'em.... Oh, my savin' soul, it's a-goin' +to begin! Where's my mouth organ?” + +But, to her huge disappointment, her services as mouth organist were +not to be requisitioned this time. Captain Hallett, taking charge of the +gathering, made an announcement. + +“The melodeon's been fixed,” he said, “and Miss Black's kind enough to +say she'll play it for us. Take your places, all hands. Come on, now, +look alive! Tut, tut, tut! Abe Hardin', for heaven's sakes, can't you +pick up your moorin's, or what does ail you? Come to anchor! Set down!” + +Mr. Harding was, apparently, having trouble in sitting down. He made +several nervous and hurried attempts, but none was successful. His +wife begged, in one of her stage whispers, to be informed if he'd been +“struck deef.” “Don't you hear the cap'n talkin' to you?” she demanded. + +“Course I hear him,” retorted her husband, testily, and in the same +comprehensively audible whisper. “No, I ain't been struck deef--nor dumb +neither.” + +“Humph! You couldn't be struck any dumber than you are. You was born +dumb. Set DOWN! Everybody's lookin' at you. I never was so mortified in +my life.” + +The harassed Abel made one more attempt. He battled savagely with his +chair. + +“I CAN'T set down,” he said. “This everlastin' chair won't set even. I +snum I believe it ain't got but three laigs. There! Now let's see.” + +He seated himself heavily and with emphasis. Mr. Jim Fletcher, whose +place was next him, uttered an agonized “Ow!” + +“No wonder 'twon't set even, Abe,” he snorted. “You've got the other +laig up onto my foot. Yus, and it's drove half down through it by this +time. Get UP! Whew!” + +A ripple of merriment ran around the circle. Every one laughed or +ventured to smile, every one except the Hardings and Captain Hallett +and, of course, Galusha Bangs. The latter's thoughts were not in the +light keeper's parlor. Cousin Gussie leaned over and whispered in his +ear: + +“Loosh,” whispered Mr. Cabot, chokingly, “if the rest of this stunt +is as good as the beginning I'll forgive you for handing that fourteen +thousand to the mummy-hunters. I wouldn't have missed it for more than +that.” + +Captain Jethro, beating the table, drove his guests to order as of old +he had driven his crews. Having obtained silence and expressed, in a few +stinging words, his opinion of those who laughed, he proceeded with his +arrangements. + +“Tamson,” he commanded, addressing Miss Black, “go and set there by +the organ. Come, Marietta, you know where your place is, don't you? Set +right where you did last time. And don't let's have any more mockery!” + he thundered, addressing the company in general. “If I thought for a +minute there was any mockery or make-believe in these meetin's, I--I--” + He paused, his chest heaving, and then added, impatiently, but in a +milder tone, “Well, go on, go on! What are we waitin' for? Douse those +lights, somebody.” + +Miss Hoag--who had been glancing at the light keeper's face and behaving +in the same oddly nervous, almost apprehensive manner which Martha had +noticed when she entered the parlor--took her seat in the official +chair and closed her eyes. Mr. Beebe turned down the lamps. The ancient +melodeon, recently prescribed for and operated upon by the repairer from +Hyannis, but still rheumatic and asthmatic, burst forth in an unhealthy +rendition of a Moody and Sankey hymn. The seance for which Galusha Bangs +had laid plans and to which he had looked forward hopefully if a little +fearfully--that seance was under way. And now, such was the stunning +effect of the most recent blow dealt him by Fate, he, Galusha, was +scarcely aware of the fact. + +The melodeon pumped on and on. The rustlings and shiftings in the circle +subsided and the expectant and shivery hush which Primmie feared and +adored succeeded it. Miss Black wailed away at the Moody and Sankey +selection. Miss Hoag's breathing became puffy. She uttered her first +preliminary groan. Cousin Gussie, being an unsophisticated stranger, +was startled, as Mr. Bangs had been at the former seance, but Primmie's +whisper reassured him. + +“It's all right,” whispered Primmie. “She ain't sick nor nothin'. She's +just a-slippin' off.” + +The banker did not understand. + +“Slipping off?” he repeated. “Off what?” + +“Off into sperit land. In a minute you'll hear her control talkin' +Chinee talk.... There! My savin' soul! hear it?... Ain't it awful!” + +“Little Cherry Blossom” had evidently been waiting at the transmitter. +The husky croak which had so amazed Galusha was again heard. + +“How do? How do, everybodee?” hailed Little Cherry Blossom. “I gladee +see-ee you. Yes, indeedee.” + +Cabot made mental note of the fact that the Blossom spoke her spirit +pidgin-English with a marked Down-East accent. Before he had time to +notice more, the control announced that she had a message. The circle +stirred in anticipation. Primmie wiggled in fearful ecstasy. + +“Listen!” commanded Little Cherry Blossom. “Everybodee harkee. Spirit +comee heree. He say-ee--” + +“Ow-ooo-ooo--ooo--OOO!!” + +As prophesied by Mr. Zacheus Bloomer, the fog had come in and Zacheus, +faithful to his duties as associate guardian of that section of the +coast, had turned loose the great foghorn. + +The roar was terrific. The windows rattled and the whole building seemed +to shake. The effect upon the group in the parlor, leaning forward +in awed expectation to catch the message from beyond, was upsetting, +literally and figuratively. Miss Tamson Black, perched upon the slippery +cushion of a rickety and unstable music stool, slid to the floor with +a most unspiritual thump and a shrill squeal. Primmie clutched her +next-door neighbor--it chanced to be Mr. Augustus Cabot--by the middle +of the waistcoat, and hers was no light clutch. Mr. Abel Harding shouted +several words at the top of his lungs; afterward there was some dispute +as to just what the exact words were, but none whatever as to their lack +of propriety. Almost every one jumped or screamed or exclaimed. Only +Captain Jeth Hallett, who had heard that horn many, many times, was +quite unmoved. Even his daughter was startled. + +But perhaps the most surprising effect of the mammoth “toot” was that +which it produced in the spirit world. It seemed to blow Little Cherry +Blossom completely back to her own sphere, for it was a voice neither +Chinese nor ethereal which, coming from Miss Hoag's lips, shrieked +wildly: “Oh, my good land of love! Wh--what's that?” + +It was only after considerable pounding of the table and repeated orders +for silence that Captain Jethro succeeded in obtaining it. Then he +explained concerning the foghorn. + +“It'll blow every minute from now on, I presume likely,” he growled, +“but I don't see as that need to make any difference about our goin' on +with this meetin'. That is, unless Marietta minds. Think 'twill bother +you about gettin' back into the trance state, Marietta?” + +Erastus Beebe had turned up one of the lamps and it happened to be the +one just above Miss Hoag's head. By its light Martha Phipps could see +the medium's face, and it seemed to her--although, as she admitted +afterward, perhaps because of subsequent happenings she only imagined +that it seemed so--it seemed to her that Marietta was torn between an +intense desire to give up mediumizing for that evening and a feeling +that she must go on. + +“She looked to me,” said Martha, “as if she was afraid to go on, but +more afraid to stop.” + +However, go on she did. She told the light keeper that she guessed she +could get back if Tamson would play a little spell more. Miss Black +agreed to do so, provided she might have a chair instead of a music +stool. + +“I wouldn't risk settin' on that plaguy, slippery haircloth thing again +for no mortal soul,” declared the irate Tamson, meaning, doubtless, to +include immortals. A chair was provided, again the lights were dimmed, +and the seance resumed, punctuated now at minute intervals by the +shattering bellows of the great foghorn. + +In a few minutes the messages began to arrive. They were of similar +vague import to those of the previous seance and, couched in Little +Cherry Blossom's weird gibberish, were vaguer still. Occasionally a +spirit seeking identification went away unrecognized, but not often. For +the most part the identifying details supplied were so general that they +were almost certain to fit a departed relative or friend of some +one present. And, as is usual under such circumstances, the would-be +recognizer was so pathetically eager to recognize. Even Galusha, dully +inert as he was just then, again felt his indignation stirred by the +shabby mockery of it all. + +Obed Taylor received a message from his brother Daniel who had died +in infancy. Daniel declared himself very happy. So, too, did Ophelia +Beebe's great-aunt Samona, who had “passed over” some time in the +'fifties. Aunt Samona was joyful--oh, so joyful. Miss Black's name was +called. + +“Tamson!” croaked Little Cherry Blossom. “Some one heree wantee Tamson.” + +Miss Black uttered an exclamation of startled surprise. “Good gracious +me!” she cried. “Who is it?” + +“Namee seem likee--likee Flora--Flora--somethin',” announced the +control. The circle rustled in anticipation while Tamson ransacked her +memory. + +“Flora?” she repeated. “Flora?” + +“Yes--yes. Flora--ah--ah--somethin'. Somethin'--soundee likee somethin' +you ring.” + +“Somethin' I RING. Why, all a body rings is a bell. Hey? My heavens +above, you don't mean Florabel? That ain't the name, is it--Florabel?” + +“Yes--yes--yes--yes.” Little Cherry Blossom was eagerly certain that +that was the name. + +“Mercy on us! Florabel? You don't mean you've got a message from my +niece Florabel Tidditt, do you?” + +“Yes--yes--yes--oh, yes!” The control was just as certain that niece +Florabel was on the wire. + +“I don't believe a word of it.” + +This unusual manner of receiving a message shocked the devout. A murmur +of protest arose. + +“Now, now, now, Tamson,” remonstrated Miss Beebe. “You mustn't talk so. +Course you believe it if the control says so.” + +“I don't neither. Florabel Tidditt ain't dead. She's as well as I be. I +had a letter from her yesterday.” + +There was considerable agitation for a few minutes. Then it developed +that the Florabel seeking to communicate was not Miss Tidditt, but +another, a relative so long gone that Tamson had forgotten she ever +existed. At length she was brought to the point of admitting that +it seemed as if she had heard of a cousin of her grandmother's named +Florabel or Annabel or something. The message was not very coherent nor +particularly interesting, so the incident ended. + +A short time later came the sensation which was to make the evening +memorable in East Wellmouth's spiritualistic circles. Little Cherry +Blossom called the name which many had expected and some, Lulie Hallett +and Martha Phipps in particular, dreaded to hear. + +“Jethro!” croaked the Blossom. “Jethro!” + +Captain Hallett had been very quiet, particularly since the Florabel +message was tangled in transit. Martha could see his shaggy head in +silhouette against the dim light of the lamp and had noticed that that +head scarcely moved. The light keeper seemed to be watching the medium +very intently. Now he spoke. + +“Yes?” he said, as if awakened from sleep. “Yes, here I am. What is it?” + +“Jethro,” cried the control once more. “Jethro, somebodee come speakee +to you.... Julia! Julia!” + +Captain Jethro rose from his chair. The loved name had as always an +instant effect. His heavy voice shook as he answered. + +“Yes, yes, Julia,” he cried. “Here I am, Julia, waitin'--waitin'.” + +It was pathetic, pitiful. One listener in that circle felt, in spite of +his own misery, a pang of remorse and a little dread. After all, perhaps +it would have been better to-- + +“Julia,” cried the light keeper. “Speak to me. I'm waitin'.” + +The foghorn boomed just here, but even after the sound had subdued +Little Cherry Blossom seemed to find it difficult to proceed. She--or +the medium--choked, swallowed, and then said: + +“Julia got message. Yes, indeedee. Important message, she sayee, for +Jethro. Jethro must do what she sayee.” + +The captain's big head nodded vigorously. Martha could see it move, a +tousled shadow against the light. + +“Yes, yes, Julia, of course,” he said. “I always do what you say. You +know I do. Go on.” + +“Father!” It was Lulie's voice, raised in anxious protest. “Father, +please.” + +Her father sharply ordered her to be quiet. + +“Go on, Julia,” he persisted. “Tell me what you want me to do.” + +Again Little Cherry Blossom seemed to have difficulty in articulating. +There was a quaver in her voice when she did speak. + +“Julia say,” she faltered; “Julia sayee 'Jethro, you sell R.P.'” + +This was unexpected. It was not at all the message the group of +listeners, with one exception, had anticipated. There was no hint of +Nelson Howard here. They did not know what to make of it. Nor, it was +evident, did Jethro Hallett. + +“What?” he demanded. “What, Julia? I don't understand.” + +Little Cherry Blossom cleared her--or the medium's--throat and +falteringly went on. + +“Julia sayee 'Jethro, you sell R. P. what you got.' Sellee him what you +got, what he want buyee. You know. You sellee R. P. the stock.” + +But still it was clear that Captain Jeth did not understand. + +“Sell R. P.?” he repeated. “R. P. Who's R. P.? And what... Eh? Do you +mean--” + +He paused. When he next spoke his tone was quite different. There was a +deeper note in it, almost a note of menace. + +“R. P.?” he said again. “Does 'R. P.' mean--is that supposed to stand +for Horatio Pulcifer? Eh? Does 'R. P.' mean Raish Pulcifer?” + +The control did not reply instantly. The light keeper pressed his +question. + +“Does it?” he demanded. + +“Yes... yes,” stammered the Blossom. “Yes, Julia say sellee Raish what +he wantee buy.” + +“Wantee BUY? What have I got he wants to buy?” + +“Julia she sayee you know. She say 'De--De--Develop stock.' That's it. +Yes, Develop stock. She sayee you sell Raish Develop stock. She sayee +she wantee you to. You do right then.” + +The foghorn howled once more. Captain Jethro was standing erect beside +his chair. When, at last, he did speak, his tone was still more tense +and threatening. Even the shallowest mind in that room--and, as +Miss Phipps had said, practically every “crank” within ten miles was +present--even the shallowest realized that something was impending, +something ominous. + +“Do you mean to say,” demanded Jethro Hallett, speaking very slowly, +“that Julia's, my wife's spirit is tellin' me to sell my four hundred +shares of Wellmouth Development stock to Raish Pulcifer? Do you mean +that SHE says that?” + +Little Cherry Blossom croaked twice, but the second croak was a feeble +“Yes.” + +“SHE says that? Julia, my dead wife, tells me to do that?” + +“Yes. Yes--yes--yes. She say you sell Raish four hundred Develop stock +and you be so gladee. She be gladee, too. She--” + +“STOP!” + +The light keeper's shout rang through the room. “Stop!” he shouted +again. “You--you LIAR!” + +The word shot from beneath his teeth and, judging by the effect, might +have hit almost every individual in the room. There was absolute +silence for just the briefest instant; then a chorus of faint screams, +exclamations, startled and indignant protests. Above them all Primmie's +call upon her Lord of Isrul sounded plainly. Captain Jethro paid no +heed. + +“You liar!” he roared again. “Out of my house, you swindler! You damned +cheat!” + +This blast, delivered with the full force of the old skipper's +quarter-deck voice, had the effect of completely upsetting the already +tense nerves of the majority in the circle. Two or three of the women +began to cry. Chairs were overturned. There was a babel of cries and +confusion. The light keeper stilled it. + +“Be still, all hands!” he shouted. “Turn up them lamps! Turn 'em up!” + +Mr. Cabot, although himself somewhat startled and disturbed by the +unexpected turn of events, was at least as cool as any one. He reached +over the prostrate heap at his feet--it was Ophelia Beebe hysterically +repeating: “He's gone crazy! He's gone loony! OH, my soul! OH, my land! +WHAT'LL I do?” and the like--and turned up one of the lamps. Obed Taylor +did the same with the other. + +The sudden illumination revealed Captain Jethro, his face pale, his eyes +flashing fire, holding the dumpy Miss Hoag fast in her chair with one +hand and with the other brandished above her head like the hammer +of Thor. The audience, for the most part, were in various attitudes, +indicating alarm and a desire to escape. Mrs. Harding had a strangle +hold on her husband's neck and was slowly but inevitably choking him to +death; Mrs. Peters, as well as Miss Beebe, was on the floor; and Primmie +Cash was bobbing up and down, flapping her hands and opening her mouth +like a mechanical figure in a shop window. Lulie and Martha Phipps, pale +and frightened, were trying to force their way to the captain's side. +Galusha Bangs alone remained seated. + +The light keeper again commanded silence. + +“Look at her!” he cried, pointing his free hand at the cowering figure +of the medium. “LOOK at her! The lyin' cheat!” + +Marietta was, in a way, worth looking at. She had shrunk as far down in +the chair as the captain's grip would permit, her usually red face was +now as white as the full moon, which it resembled in some other ways, +and she was, evidently, as Primmie said afterwards, “scart to death and +some left over.” + +Lulie called. + +“Father, father,” she pleaded. “Please--oh--please!” + +Her father paid no attention. It was to Miss Hoag that he continued his +attentions. + +“You miserable, swindlin' make-believe!” he growled, his voice shaking +with emotion. “You--you come here and--and pretend--Oh, by The Almighty, +if you was a man, if you wasn't the--the poor, pitiful fool that you be, +I'd--I'd--” + +His daughter had reached his side. “Father,” she begged. “Father, for my +sake--” + +“Be still! Be still, girl!... Marietta Hoag, you answer me. Who put you +up to tellin' me to sell that stock to Pulcifer? Who did it? Answer me?” + +Marietta tried, but she could do little but gurgle. She gurgled, +however, in her natural tones, or a frightened imitation of them. Little +Cherry Blossom had, apparently, fluttered to the Chinese spiritland. + +“I--I--Oh, my good land!” she wailed. + +“Answer!” + +“Father--father!” cried Lulie. “Don't talk so! Don't act so!” + +“Act so! Be still! Let me alone, Martha Phipps! This woman here is a +cheat. She's a liar! How do I KNOW? DON'T ask such fool questions. I +know because--because she says my wife--Julia--my wife--tells me to sell +my four hundred shares of Wellmouth Development stock--” + +“Yes, of course. But, perhaps--” + +“There ain't any perhaps. You, woman,” addressing the cowering medium, +“didn't you say that?” + +“Yes--oh, yes, Cap'n Jeth, I said it. PLEASE don't!” + +“And you pretended my dead wife's spirit said it, didn't you?” + +“Yes. Yes, she did. Oh--oh--” + +“She did not! Listen, all of you!” with scornful disgust. “Listen! That +four hundred shares of Development stock this--this critter here says +Julia knows I've got and wants me to sell to Raish Pulcifer I SOLD two +months ago. Yes, by the everlastin', I sold 'em! And--eh? Yes, there he +is. I sold 'em to that Bangs man there. He knows it. He'll tell you I +did.... And now this swindler, this cheat, she--she--Who put you up to +it? Who did? Was it Pulcifer?” + +Marietta began to sob. “Ye-es, yes,” she faltered. “He--he said he--” + +“I thought so. And you pretended 'twas my--my Julia, my wife.... Oh, +my God! And you've been pretendin' all the time. 'Twas all cheatin' and +lies, wasn't it? She--she never come to you. She never told you nothin'. +Ain't it so?” + +Poor, publicity-loving, sensation-loving Marietta's nerve was completely +gone. She sobbed wildly. + +“Oh--oh, I guess so. I--I guess likely 'twas,” she wailed. “I--I don't +know. I only--” + +Captain Jethro took his hand from her shoulder. He staggered a little. + +“Get out of my house!” he ordered. “Out of my house--all of you. You're +all liars and cheats together.... Oh, Julia! Oh, my Lord above!” + +He collapsed in a chair and put his hands to his head. Lulie, the tears +streaming down her face, tried to comfort him. Martha, also weeping, +essayed to help. Cabot, walking over to where his cousin was standing, +laid a hand on his arm. Galusha, pale and wan, looking as if the world +had slipped from under him and he was left hanging in cold space, turned +a haggard face in his direction. + +“Well, Loosh,” said Cousin Gussie, dryly, “I think you and I had +better go home, hadn't we? This has been an interesting evening, +an--ah--illuminating evening. You appear to be the only person who can +add to the illumination, and--well, don't you think it is time you did?” + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +Galusha did not answer. He regarded his relative vacantly, opened his +mouth, closed it, sighed and turned toward the dining room. By this time +most of the congregation were already in the yard and, as Cabot and +his companion emerged into the dripping blackness of out-of-doors, from +various parts of that blackness came the clatter of tongues and the +sound of fervent ejaculations and expressions of amazement. + +“Well! WELL! Don't talk to ME! If this don't beat all ever _I_ see!...” + “I should say it did! I was just sayin' to Sarah B., s' I, 'My soul and +body,' s' I, 'if this ain't--'”... “And what do you s'pose made him--” + “And when they turned up them lights and I see him standin' there +jammin' her down into that chair and wavin' that big fist of his over +top her head, thinks I, 'Good-NIGHT! He's goin' to hammer her right down +through into the cellar, don't know's he ain't!'” + +These were a few fragments which Cousin Gussie caught as they pushed +their way to the gate. In one spot where a beam of light from the window +faintly illuminated the wet, he glimpsed a flowered and fruited hat +picturesquely draped over its wearer's ear while from beneath its +lopsided elegance a tearful voice was heard hysterically demanding to +be taken home. “Take me home, 'Phelia. I--I--I... Oh, take me home! +I--I--I've forgot my rubbers and--and I feel's if my hair was comin' +off--down, I mean--but--oh, I don't CARE, take me HOME!” + +Galusha, apparently, heard and saw nothing of this. He blundered +straight on to the gate and thence along the road to the Phipps' +cottage. It seemed to Cabot that he found it by instinct, for the fog +was so thick that even the lighted windows could not be seen further +than a few yards. But he did find it and, at last, the two men stood +together in the little sitting room. Then Cousin Gussie once more laid a +hand on his relative's arm. + +“Well, Galusha,” he said, again, “what about it?” + +Galusha heaved another sigh. “Yes--ah--yes,” he answered. +“Yes--ah--quite so.” + +“Humph! What is quite so? I want to know about that stock of the +Wellmouth Development Company.” + +“Yes.... Yes, certainly, I know.” + +“That Captain--um--What's-his-name, the picturesque old lunatic with the +whiskers--Hallett, I mean--made a statement that was, to say the least, +surprising. I presume he was crazy. That was the most weird collection +of insanity that I ever saw or heard. Ha, ha! Oh, dear!... Well, never +mind. But what did old Hallett mean by saying he had sold YOU his four +hundred shares of that stock?” + +Galusha closed his eyes. He smiled sadly. + +“He meant that he had--ah--sold them to me,” he answered. + +“LOOSH!” + +“Yes.” + +“Loosh, are you crazy, too?” + +“Very likely. I often think I may be. Yes, I bought the--ah--stock.” + +“You bought the--YOU? Loosh, sit down.” + +Mr. Bangs shook his head. “No, Cousin Gussie,” he said. “If you don't +mind I--I won't sit down. I shall go to my room soon. I bought Captain +Hallett's stock. I bought Miss Phipps', too.” + +It was Cabot himself who sat down. He stared, slowly shook his head, and +then uttered a fervent, “Whew!” + +Galusha nodded. “Yes,” he observed. “Ah--yes.” + +“Loosh, do you know what you are saying? Do you mean that you actually +bought Hallett's four hundred shares and this woman's--?” + +“Miss Phipps is her name. Miss Martha Phipps.” + +“Yes, yes, of course. And you bought... Eh? By Jove! Is THAT what you +did with that thirteen thousand dollars?” + +Again Galusha nodded. “Yes,” he said. + +Cousin Gussie whistled again. “But why did you do it, Loosh?” he asked, +after a moment. “For heaven's sake, WHY?” + +Galusha did not answer immediately. Then he said, slowly: “If--if you +don't mind, Cousin Gussie, I think I should tell HER that first. That +is, I mean she should--ah--be here when I do tell it.... I--I think I +will change my mind and sit down and wait until she comes.... Perhaps. +you will wait, too--if you don't mind.... And, please--please don't +think me rude if I do not--ah--talk. I do not feel--ah--conversational. +Dear me, no.” + +He sat down. Cabot stared at him, crossed his knees, and continued to +stare. Occasionally he shook his head, as if the riddle were proving +too much for him. Galusha did not move. Neither man spoke. The old clock +ticked off the minutes. + +Primmie came home first. “Miss Martha said to tell you she would be over +in a few minutes,” she announced. “Cap'n Jeth, he's a-comin' around all +right, so Miss Martha and Zach and them think. But, my savin' soul, how +he does hang onto Lulie! Keeps a-sayin' she's all he's got that's true +and honest and--and all that sort of talk. Give me the crawlin' creeps +to hear him. And after that seance thing, too! When that everlastin' +foghorn bust loose the first time, I cal'lated--” + +Galusha interrupted. “Primmie,” he suggested, gravely, “would you--will +you be--ah--kind enough to go into the kitchen?” + +“Hey? Go into the kitchen? Course I will. What do you want in the +kitchen, Mr. Bangs?” + +He regarded her solemnly. “I should like to have you there, if you don't +mind,” he observed. “This gentleman and I are--we would prefer to be +alone. I'm very sorry, but you must excuse me this time and--ah--go.” + +“Go? You want me to go out and--and not stay here?” + +“Yes. Yes--ah--quite so, Primmie. Ah--good-night.” + +Primmie departed, slamming the door and muttering indignation. Galusha +sighed once more. Then he relapsed into silence. + +Twenty minutes later Martha herself came in. They heard her enter the +dining room, then Primmie's voice in resentful explanation. When Miss +Phipps did come into the sitting room, she was smiling slightly. + +“Primmie's heart is broken,” she observed. “Oh, don't worry, it isn't +a very serious break. She hasn't had so much to talk about for goodness +knows when and yet nobody wants to listen to her. I told her to tell +Luce about it, but that didn't seem to soothe her much. Luce is Lucy +Larcom, Mr. Cabot,” she explained. “He is our cat.” + +Cousin Gussie, already a much bewildered man, looked even more +bewildered, but Martha did not observe his condition. She turned to his +companion. + +“Mr. Bangs,” she said, “it's all right. Or goin' to be all right, I'm +sure. Cap'n Jeth is takin' the whole thing a good deal better than I was +afraid there at first. He is dreadfully shaken, poor man, and he seems +to feel as if the last plank had foundered from beneath him, as father +used to say; but, if it doesn't have any worse effect than that, I shall +declare the whole business a mercy and a miracle. If it has the effect +of curin' him of the Marietta Hoag kind of spiritualism--and it really +looks like a cure--then it will be worth all the scare it gave us. At +first all he would say was that everything was a fraud and a cheat, +that his faith had been taken away, there was nothin' left--nothin'. But +Lulie, bless her heart, was a brave girl and a dear one. She said, 'I am +left, father. You've got me, you know.' And he turned to her and clung +to her as if she was his only real sheet anchor. As, of course, she is, +and would have been always if he hadn't gone adrift after Little Cherry +Blossom and such rubbish. Mr. Bangs, I--” + +She paused. She looked first at Galusha and then at the Boston banker. +Her tone changed. + +“Why, what is it?” she asked, quickly. “What is the matter?... Mr. +Bangs--” + +Galusha had risen when she entered. He was pale, but resolute. + +“Miss Phipps,” he began, “I--I have been waiting to--to say something to +you. I--ah--yes, to say something. Yes, Miss Phipps.” + +It was the first time he had addressed her as “Miss Phipps” for many +months. He had, ever since she granted him permission and urged him to +drop formality, addressed her as Miss Martha and seemed to take pride +in that permission and to consider it an honor. Now the very fact of his +returning to the old manner was, although she did not yet realize it, an +indication that he considered his right to her friendship forfeited. + +“Miss Phipps,” he began once more, “I--I wish to make a confession, a +humiliating confession. I shall not ask you to forgive me. I realize +that what I have done is quite beyond pardon.” + +He stopped again; the road was a hard one to travel. Martha gazed at +him, aghast and uncomprehending. Cabot, understanding but little more, +shrugged his shoulders. + +“For heaven's sake, old man,” he exclaimed, “don't speak like that! You +haven't committed murder, have you?” + +Galusha did not answer nor heed him. It was to Martha Phipps he spoke +and at her that he looked, as a guilty man in the prisoners' dock might +regard the judge about to pronounce his death sentence. + +“Miss Phipps,” he began, for the third time, “I have deceived you. I--I +have lied to you, not only once but--ah--ah--a great many times. I am +quite unworthy of your respect--ah, quite.” + +Martha's face expressed many things, absolute amazement predominant. + +“Why--why, Mr. Bangs!” she gasped. “What--” + +“Pardon me,” went on Galusha. “I was about to explain. I--I will try to +make the explanation brief. It is--ah--very painful to me to make and +will be, I fear, as painful for you to hear. Miss Phipps, when I told +you--or gave you to understand--that my cousin here, or his firm, Cabot, +Bancroft and Cabot, bought that--ah--Development stock of yours, I +deceived you; I told you a falsehood. They did not buy it.... I bought +it, myself.” + +He blurted out the last sentence, after a short but apparent mental +struggle. Martha's chest heaved, but she said no word. The criminal +continued: + +“I will not attempt at this time to tell you how I was--ah--forced into +buying it,” he said; “further than to say that I--I had very foolishly +led you to count upon my cousin's buying it and--and felt a certain +responsibility and--a desire not to disappoint you. I--of course, +I should have told you the truth, but I did not. I bought the stock +myself.” + +Again he paused and still Martha was silent. Cousin Gussie seemed about +to speak and then to change his mind. + +“Perhaps,” went on Galusha, with a pitiful attempt at a smile, “you +might have forgiven me that, although it is doubtful, for you had +expressly forbidden my lending you money or--or assisting you in any +way, which I was--please believe this--very eager to do. But, +after having bought it, I, as I say, deceived you, falsified, +prevaricated--excuse me--lied to you, over and over.... Oh, dear me!” + he added, in a sudden burst, “I assure you it is unbelievable how many +falsehoods seemed to be necessary. I lied continually, I did, indeed. + +“Well, that is all,” he said. “That is all, I believe.... I--I am +very sorry.... After your extreme kindness to me, it was--I... I think +perhaps, if you will excuse me, I will go to my room. I am--ah--somewhat +agitated. Good-night.” + +He was turning away, but Cabot called to him. + +“Here, wait a minute, Loosh,” he cried. “There is one thing more +you haven't told us. Why on earth did you buy Hallett's four hundred +shares?” + +Galusha put his hand to his forehead. + +“Oh, yes, yes,” he said. “Yes, of course. That was very simple. I +was--ah--as one may say, coerced by my guilty conscience. Captain +Hallett had learned--I don't know precisely how, but it is quite +immaterial--that Miss Phipps had, through me and to you, Cousin Gussie, +as he supposed, sold her shares. He wished me to sell his. I said I +could not. Then he said he should go to your office in Boston and see +you, or your firm, and sell them himself. I could not allow that, of +course. He would have discovered that I had never been there to sell +anything at all and--and might have guessed what had actually happened. +So I was obliged to buy his stock also and--and pretend that you had +bought it. I lied to him, too, of course. I--I think I have lied to +every one.... I believe that is really all. Good-night.” + +“One more thing, Loosh. What did you do with the certificates, Hallett's +and Miss Phipps'? You got them, I suppose.” + +“Eh? Yes, oh, yes, I got them. I don't know where they are.” + +“WHAT? Don't know where they ARE?” + +“No. I took them to your office, Cousin Gussie. I enclosed them in +a large envelope and took them there. I gave them to a person +named--ah--Taylor, I think that was the name.” + +“Taylor? There is no Taylor in our office.” + +“It was not Taylor. It may have been Carpenter, although that doesn't +seem exactly right, either. It was the name of some one--ah--a person +who does something to you, you know, like a tailor or a carpenter or +a--a butcher--or--” + +“Barbour! Was it Barbour?” + +“Yes, that was it--Barbour. I gave Mr. Barbour the envelope. I don't +know what he did with it; I told him I preferred not to know.... Please +excuse me. Good-night.” + +He turned abruptly and walked from the room. They heard him ascending +the stairs. For a moment the pair he had left looked at each other in +silence. Then Cabot burst into a shout of laughter. He rocked back and +forth in his chair and laughed until Martha, who was not laughing, began +to think he might laugh forever. + +“Oh, by Jove, this is funny?” he exclaimed, as soon as he could speak. +“This is the funniest thing I ever heard of. Excuse the hysterics, Miss +Phipps, but it certainly is. For the past month Williams and I, through +this fellow Pulcifer down here, have been working heaven and earth to +get the six hundred and fifty shares of that stock we supposed you and +Hallett owned. And all the time it was locked up in my own safe there +in Boston! And to think that old Loosh, of all persons, should have put +this over on us. Ho, ho, ho! Isn't it rich!” + +He roared and rocked for another interval. Still Martha did not speak, +nor even smile. She was not looking at him, but at the braided rug +beneath her feet, and he could not see the expression of her face. + +“I may as well explain now,” he went on, when this particular laugh was +over, “that my friend Williams is one of the leading hotel men of this +country. He owns two very big hotels in Florida and one in the Tennessee +mountains. He has for some time been looking for a site on which to +build another here on the northern coast. He was down this way a while +ago and, quite by accident, he discovered this shore property which, he +found out later, was owned by the Wellmouth Development Company. It was +ideal, according to his estimate--view, harbor, water privileges, +still water and surf bathing, climate--everything. He came to me and we +discussed buying it. Then we discovered that this Development Company +owned it. Fifty thousand dollars, the concern's capitalization, was +too much to pay. A trust company over here in your next town had +twelve hundred shares, but we found out that they knew the value of the +property and, if they learned what we were up to, would hold for a +fancy price. So, through this chap Pulcifer--we bought HIS five hundred +shares--we began buying up the thirteen hundred which would give us a +controlling interest and force the other crowd to do what we wanted. We +picked up the small holdings easily enough, but we couldn't get yours or +Hallett's. And for a very good reason, too. Ho, ho, ho! And old Loosh, +of all people! Ho, ho!” + +Still Miss Phipps did not laugh, nor did she look at him. “By the way,” + he observed, “I presume my--er--relative paid you a fair price for the +stock, Miss Phipps?” + +“He paid me twenty dollars a share,” she said, quietly. + +“Did he, indeed! Well, that is more than we've paid any one else, except +Pulcifer. We allowed him a commission--a margin--on all he succeeded in +buying.... Humph!... And I suppose Galusha paid old Hallett par, too. +But why he should do such a thing is--well, it is beyond me.” + +She answered, but still she did not look at him. + +“He told you,” she said. “He knew I needed money. I was foolish enough +to let him guess--yes, I told him that I had a hard time to get along. +He was interested and he tried to cheer me up by tellin' me he thought +you might buy that stock of mine. He couldn't have been more interested +if it had been somethin' of his own. No, not nearly so much; he and his +own interests are the last thing he thinks about, I guess. And then he +kept cheerin' me up and pretendin' to be more and more sure you would +buy and--and when he found you wouldn't he--but there, he told us the +truth. _I_ understand why he did it, Mr. Cabot.” + +The banker shook his head. “Well, I suppose I do, too, in a way,” he +said. “It is because he is Galusha Bangs. Nobody else on earth would +think of doing such a thing.” + +“No, nobody else would. But thirteen thousand dollars, Mr. Cabot! Why, +that's dreadful! It's awful! He must have used every cent he owns, and +I didn't suppose he owned any, scarcely. Oh, Mr. Cabot, I must pay +him back; I must pay him right away. DO you want to buy that stock he +bought? Will you buy it of him, so he can have his money again?” + +She was looking at him now and her voice was shaking with anxiety. Cabot +laughed once more. + +“Delighted, Miss Phipps,” he assured her. “That is what I have been +trying to do for a month or more. But don't worry about old Galusha's +going broke. He--why, what is it?” + +“Oh, nothin'. I was thinkin' about what he did and--and--” + +“Yes, I know. Isn't it amazing? I have known him all my life, but I'm +never sure how he will fly off the handle next. Of course, I realize you +must think him a perfect jackass, an idiot--” + +“What! Think him WHAT?” + +“An idiot, an imbecile. Nine people out of ten, those who don't know him +well, do consider him just that. Yet he isn't. In some respects he is a +mighty clever man. In his own line, in this musty-dusty museum business +of his, this Egyptology he is so cracked about, he is really very close +to the top. Geographic societies all over the world have given him +medals; he is--why, if he wished to he could write a string of letters +after his name a yard long. I believe--hang it, it sounds absurd, but +I believe he has been--er--knighted or something like it, in one +heathenish little kingdom. And in Washington there, at the Institute, +they swear by him.” + +She nodded. “They have just made him a wonderful offer to be the head of +another expedition,” she said. + +“So? Well, I am not surprised. But in most respects, outside of his +mummy-chasing, he is an absolute ass. Money? Why, he would give away +every cent if it occurred to him to do so. HE wouldn't know nor care. +And what might become of him afterward he wouldn't care, either. If it +wasn't that I watch him and try to keep his money out of his hands, I +don't know what would happen. Kind? Yes, of course. And generous; good +Lord! But when it comes to matters of sentiment like--well, like this +stock business for example, he is, as I say, an ass, that's all.... I am +telling you this, Miss Phipps, because I wouldn't wish you to consider +old Loosh altogether a fool, but only--” + +He was sitting there, his knee in his hands, gazing blandly at the +ceiling and, in judicial fashion, summing up his relative's failings and +virtues, when he was interrupted. And the interruption was a startling +one. Martha Phipps sprang to her feet and faced him, her cheeks crimson +and her eyes flashing. + +“Oh, how dare you!” she cried, with fiery indignation. “How CAN you? +You sit there and talk about him and--and call him names in that--that +condescendin' way as if he was dirt under our feet and yet--and yet he's +as far above us as the sky is. Oh, how can you! Don't you see how good +he is? Don't you SEE how he's sufferin' now, poor soul, and why? You say +he doesn't care for money; of course he doesn't. If it had cost fifty +thousand and he had it, I suppose he'd have used it just the same if he +thought it would help--help some friend of his out of trouble. But +what is tearin' him to pieces is the idea that he has, as he calls it, +cheated ME. That he has lied to Jethro and to me and hasn't been the +same straight, honest--GENTLEMAN he always is. That's all. HE doesn't +give himself credit for takin' his own money to help other folks with. +YOU would, _I_ would, but HE doesn't. He talks as if he'd robbed us, +or--or killed somebody or somethin'. He is the best--yes, I think he +is the best and finest soul that ever breathed. And you sit there +and--swing your foot and--and patronize--and call him a fool. A FOOL!... +I--I mustn't talk any more or--or I'll say somethin' I'll wish I +hadn't.... Good-night, Mr. Cabot.” + +She had held her handkerchief tightly crumpled in her hand during this +outburst. Now she dabbed hastily with it at either eye, turned and +hastened into the dining room, closing the door behind her. + +A minute later Primmie came into the room, bearing a lighted lamp. + +“I cal'late now I can dast come in here, can't I?” she observed, with +dignity. “Anyhow, I hope so, 'cause Miss Martha sent me. She said I was +to show you where your bedroom was, Mr. Cabot.” + +The Boston banker, who had scarcely recovered from the blast launched +at his head by his hostess, rose, still blinking in a dazed fashion, and +followed the lamp-bearer up the steep and narrow stairs. She opened a +door. + +“Here you be,” she said, tartly. “And I hope you'll sleep 'cause I'm +precious sure _I_ sha'n't. All I'll see from now till mornin' is Cap'n +Jeth gettin' ready to lam that Marietta Hoag one over the top of the +head. My Lord of Isrul! Don't talk to ME!” + +Cabot regarded her with interest. “What is YOUR name?” he inquired. + +“Primrose Cash.” + +“Eh? Primrose?” + +“Um-hm. Name of a flower, 'tis. Some folks don't like it, but I do.” + +“Primrose!” The visitor slowly shook his head. “Well--er--Primrose,” he +asked, “is there any other asylum in this vicinity?” + +“Hey? ASYLUM? What--” + +“Never mind. I wondered, that's all. Good-night.” + +He took the lamp from her hand and went into his room. The amazed +Primmie heard from behind the door of that room a mighty roar of +laughter, laughter loud and long continued. Martha, in her room, heard +it and stirred indignantly. Galusha, in his room, heard it and moaned. + +He wondered how, in all the world, there was any one who, on this night +of misery, could laugh. + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +There were two people in that house who ate a real breakfast the +following morning. One was Primmie and the other was Augustus Cabot. It +took much, very much, to counteract Miss Cash's attraction toward food, +and as for the Boston banker, the combination of Cape Cod air and +Martha Phipps' cooking had sharpened his appetite until, as he told his +hostess, he was thoroughly ashamed, but tremendously contented. + +Martha smiled a faint recognition of the joke. Galusha, sitting opposite +her, did not smile; he was plainly quite unaware that there was humor +anywhere. The little archaeologist looked, so Primmie told Zach later +on, “like one of them wax string beans, thin and drawed-out and yeller.” + He kept his gaze fixed on his plate and, beyond wishing her an uncertain +good-morning, not once did he look at or venture to address Martha +Phipps. + +While they were at table Lulie came in. Considering all that she had +undergone, the young lady was wonderfully radiant. Her eyes sparkled, +there was color in her cheeks, and Mr. Cabot, who, in his time, had +accounted himself a judge, immediately rated her as a remarkably pretty +girl. Her first move, after greeting the company, was to go straight to +Galusha and take his hand. + +“Mr. Bangs,” she cried, “how can I thank you? How can Nelson and I ever, +ever thank you?” + +Galusha's embarrassment managed to pump a little color into his wan +cheeks. “I--I--ah--dear me, it was nothing,” he stammered. “I--I +am--ah--yes, quite so. Please don't mention it.” + +“But I shall mention it. Indeed, I shall. Why, Martha, do you realize +who was really responsible for father's being so suspicious of Marietta +Hoag last evening? It was Mr. Bangs here, and no one else. Do you +remember I told you that father had been receiving printed things, +booklets and circulars, in the mails for the past few days, and that he +had been reading them and they seemed to agitate him very much? Do you +remember that?” + +Martha said of course she remembered it. + +“Yes. Well, those circulars and books came from the Psychical Research +Society--the people who look up real spirit things and expose the other +kind, the fraud kind, you know. Those told all about lots of cases of +cheats like Marietta, and father read them, and he confessed to me this +morning that they disturbed his faith in her a lot and he was suspicious +when the seance began. Don't you know he hinted something about it?” + +“Yes, yes, Lulie, I remember. But what did Mr. Bangs have to do with +those circulars and things?” + +“He sent them. Or he had them sent, I am sure. They came from Washington +and who else could have done it? Who else would have had them sent--from +there--to father--and just at the right time? You did have them sent, +didn't you, Mr. Bangs?” + +Of course, the others now looked at Galusha and also, of course, this +had the effect of increasing his embarrassment. + +“Why--why, yes,” he admitted, “I suppose I am responsible. You see, +I--well--ah--I have friends at the Washington branch of the Society and +I dropped a line requesting that some--ah--literature be sent to Captain +Hallett. But it was nothing, really. Dear me, no. How is your father +this morning, Lulie?” + +Lulie's face expressed her happiness. “Oh, he is ever and ever so much +better,” she declared. “Last night I was so afraid that the shock and +the dreadful disappointment and all might have a very had effect upon +him, but it hasn't. He is weak this morning and tired, of course, but +his brain is perfectly clear and he talks as calmly as you or I. Yes, +a good deal more calmly than I am talking just now, for I am very much +excited.” + +She laughed a little. Then, with a blush which caused the Boston +connoisseur to re-endorse his own estimate of her looks, added: “I just +must tell you this, Martha, you and Mr. Bangs, for I know you will be +almost as much delighted as I am--of course, I put in the 'almost.' +This morning, a little while ago, I ventured to mention Nelson's name +to father and to hint that perhaps now that he knew Marietta's 'medium' +nonsense to be all a fraud, he would believe as I did that the things +she said about Nelson were frauds, too. I said it in fear and trembling, +and for some time he didn't answer. Then he called me to him and said he +guessed I was probably right. 'You seem to have been right most of the +time, Lulie,' he said, 'and I've been clear off the course.' Then he +said something about his getting old and about ready for the scrap heap, +but at the end he said: 'You ask that young Howard to cruise around +here and see me some one of these days. I want to talk to him.' There!” + triumphantly. “Isn't that splendid? Isn't that something for him to +say?” + +Martha beamed delightedly. “For your father to say it's more than +somethin', it's a whole big lot,” she declared. “Well, well, well! Cap'n +Jeth invitin' Nelson to come and see him and talk with him! Mercy me! +'Wonders 'll never cease, fish fly and birds swim,' as my own father +used to say,” she added, with a laugh. “Mr. Cabot, excuse me for talkin' +about somethin' you don't understand, but, you see, Lulie is--Well, +Primmie, what is it?” + +Primmie's face expressed great excitement as she pushed it around the +edge of the kitchen door. “My savin' soul!” was her salutation. “Who +do you suppose is comin' right up our walk this very minute? Raish +Pulcifer, that's who! And--and I bet you he's heard about last night's +doin's, Miss Martha.” + +A little of Miss Cash's excitement was communicated to the others by her +announcement. To every one except Mr. Bangs, of course. Galusha, +after his acknowledgment of Lulie's thanks, had relapsed into his +absent-minded apathy. Martha looked at Lulie. + +“Humph!” she said, after a moment. “Well, let him come, as far as I'm +concerned. I never was afraid of Raish Pulcifer yet and I'm not now. +Lulie, if you don't want to meet him, you might go into the sitting +room.” + +Lulie hesitated. “Well, perhaps I will,” she said. “Father has told me +a little about--Well, I imagine Raish will be disagreeable and I don't +feel like going through more disagreeableness just now. I'll wait in +here till he goes, Martha.” + +“Perhaps you'd like to go, too, Mr. Cabot,” suggested Martha. + +Cabot shrugged. “Not unless you wish me to,” he replied. “I've never +met this agent of ours and I wouldn't mind seeing what he looks like. +Williams hired him, so he doesn't know me from Adam.” + +For the first time that morning Miss Phipps addressed her boarder +directly. “How about you, Mr. Bangs?” she asked. + +Galusha did not appear to hear the question, and before it was repeated +a knock, loud, portentous, threatening, sounded upon the door. + +“Let him in, Primmie,” commanded Miss Phipps. + +Mr. Pulcifer entered. His bearing was as ominous as his knock. He nodded +to Martha, glanced inquiringly at Cabot, and then turned his gaze upon +Galusha Bangs. + +“Well, Raish,” said Martha, cheerfully, “you're an early bird this +mornin'. How do you do?” + +The great Horatio's only acknowledgment of the greeting was a nod. He +did not even remove his cap. He was looking at the little man in the +chair at the foot of the table and he seemed quite oblivious of any one +else. And Galusha, for that matter, seemed quite as oblivious of him. + +The Pulcifer mouth opened and the Pulcifer finger pointed. + +“Say,” commanded Raish. “Say--you!” And as this seemed to have little or +no effect upon the individual toward whom the finger pointed, he added: +“Say, you--er--What's-your-name--Bangs.” + +Galusha, who had been absently playing with his napkin, twisting it into +folds and then untwisting it, looked up. + +“Eh?” he queried. “Oh, yes--yes, of course. How do you do, Mr. +Pulcifer?” + +This placidity seemed to shut off Raish's breath for the moment, but it +returned in full supply. + +“How do I DO!” he repeated. “Well, I ain't what you'd call fust-rate, +I'd say. I'm pretty darn sick, if anybody should ask you. I've had +enough to make me sick. Say, look here, Bangs! What kind of a game is +this you've been puttin' over on me--hey?... Hey?” + +“Game?... I--ah--pardon me, I don't know that I quite understand, Mr. +Pulcifer.” + +“Don't you? Well, I don't understand neither. But I cal'late to pretty +quick. What did Jeth Hallett mean last night by sayin' that he'd sold +his four hundred Development a couple of months ago? What did he mean by +it?” + +Martha Phipps was about to speak. Cabot, too, leaned forward. But +Galusha raised a protesting hand. + +“Please,” he said. “Mr. Pulcifer has a perfect right to ask. I +have--ah--been expecting him to do so. Well, Mr. Pulcifer, I presume +Captain Hallet meant that he had--ah--sold the stock.” + +“He did? I want to know! And what did he mean by sayin' he'd sold it to +YOU?” + +Again Miss Phipps and Cousin Gussie seemed about to take a hand and +again Galusha silenced them. + +“If you please,” he begged. “It is quite all right, really.... I +suppose, Mr. Pulcifer, he meant that he had done just that. He did. +I--ah--bought his stock.” + +“You did! YOU did? Say, what kind of a--Say, am I crazy or are you?” + +“Oh, I am. Dear me, yes, Mr. Pulcifer. At all events, I purchased the +stock from Captain Hallett. I bought Miss Phipps' shares at the same +time.” + +It took more than a trifle to “stump” Raish Pulcifer. He was accustomed +to boast that it did. But he had never been nearer to being stumped than +at that moment. + +“You--bought--” He puffed the words as a locomotive puffs smoke when +leaving a station. + +“Yes,” said Galusha, calmly, “I bought both his and hers.” + +“You did!... You did!... Well, by cripes! But--but why?” + +“Because, I--ah--For reasons of my own, Mr. Pulcifer. Please pardon me +if I do not go into that. I do not wish to appear rude, but the reasons +are quite personal, really.” + +“Personal!... Well, I'll be dummed if this ain't the nerviest piece of +brass cheek ever I--Say, look here, Bangs! Why didn't you tell me you'd +bought them shares? What did you--Why, you must have had 'em all the +time I was offerin' you commissions for buyin' 'em. Hey? DID you have +'em then?” + +“Why--ah--yes, I did.” + +“And you never said nothin', but just let me talk! And--and how about +this seance thing? You was the one put me up to making Marietta pretend +to get messages from Jeth's wife tellin' him to sell his stock to me. +YOU done it. I'd never thought of it if you hadn't put the notion in my +head. And--and all the time--Oh, by CRIPES!” + +Again his agitation brought on a fit of incoherence. And he was not the +only astonished person about that table. Galusha, however, was quite +calm. He continued to fold and unfold his napkin. + +“It may be,” he said, slowly, “that I owe you an apology, Mr. Pulcifer. +I did deceive you, or, at least, I did not undeceive you.” He paused, +sighed, and then added, with a twisted smile, “I seem to have been +a--ah--universal deceiver, as one might say. However, that is not +material just now. I had what seemed to me good reasons for wishing +Captain Hallett to learn that Miss Hoag was not a genuine--ah--psychic. +It occurred to me that a mention of his late wife's wish to have him +sell something he did not possess might accomplish that result. I misled +you, of course, and I apologize, Mr. Pulcifer. I am sorry, but it seemed +necessary to do so. Yes, quite.” + +He ceased speaking. Martha drew a long breath. Mr. Cabot looked very +much puzzled. Raish slowly shook his head. “Well!” he began; tried +again, but only succeeded in repeating the word. Then he blurted out his +next question. + +“Who'd you buy them shares for?” + +“Eh? For?” + +“Yes, for. Who did you buy Cap'n Jeth's and Martha's stock for? Who got +you to buy it? 'Twasn't the Trust Company crowd, was it?” + +“The Trust Company? I beg pardon? Oh, I see--I see. Dear me, no. I +bought the stock myself, quite on my own responsibility, Mr. Pulcifer.” + +Raish could not believe it. “You bought it yourself!” he repeated. “No, +no, you don't get me. I mean whose money paid for it?” + +“Why, my own.” + +Still it was plain that Horatio did not believe. As a matter of fact, +the conviction that Galusha Bangs was poverty-stricken was so thoroughly +implanted in the Pulcifer mind that not even a succession of earthquakes +like the recent disclosures could shake it loose. But Raish did not +press the point, for at that moment a new thought came to him. His +expression changed and his tone changed with it. + +“Say, Bangs,” demanded he, eagerly, “do you mean you've still got that +six hundred and fifty Development? Mean you ain't turned 'em over yet to +anybody else?” + +“Eh? Why, no, Mr. Pulcifer, I haven't--ah--turned them over to any one +else.” + +“Good! Fust-rate! Fine and dandy! You and me can trade yet. You're all +right, Perfessor, you are. You've kind of put one acrost on me, but +don't make the mistake of thinkin' I'm holdin' that against you. No, +sir-ee! When a feller's smart enough to keep even with your Uncle Raish +in a deal then I know he gets up early--yes, sir, early, and that's when +I get up myself. Hey, Perfessor? Haw, haw! Now, I tell you: Let's you +and me go down to my office or somewheres where we can talk business. +Maybe I might want to buy that stock yet, you can't tell. Hey? Haw, +haw!” + +He was exuding geniality now. But just here Mr. Augustus Cabot spoke. +Judging by his face, he had enjoyed the passage at arms between his +cousin and his business agent hugely. Now he entered the lists. + +“That's all right, Pulcifer,” he said. “You needn't trouble. I'll look +out for that stock, myself.” + +Horatio turned and stared. He had scarcely noticed the visitor before, +now he looked him over from head to foot. + +“Hey? What's that?” he demanded. Cabot repeated his statement. Raish +snorted. + +“You'll look after the stock!” he repeated. “YOU will? Who are you?” + +Cousin Gussie tossed a card across the table. “Cabot is my name,” he +said. + +Galusha suddenly remembered. + +“Oh, dear me!” he exclaimed. “I--I forgot. Please forgive me. +Cousin Gussie, this is Mr. Pulcifer. Mr. Pulcifer, this gentleman is +my--ah--Cousin Gu--I mean my cousin, Mr. Cabot, from Boston.” + +But Mr. Pulcifer did not hear. He was staring at the names of the +individual and of the firm upon the card and icy fingers were playing +tunes up and down his vertebrae. For the second time that morning he +could not speak. Cabot laughed. + +“It's all right, Pulcifer,” he said, reassuringly. “You won't have to +worry about the Development matter any longer. I'll handle the rest of +it. Oh, you did your best. I'm not blaming you. I'll see that you get a +fair return, even if you couldn't quite deliver. But you must keep still +about the whole thing, of course.” + +Raish breathed heavily. Slowly the icy fingers ceased trifling with +his spine and that backbone began to develop--quoting Miss Phipps' +description--at least one new joint to every foot. He suppled visibly. +He expressed himself with feeling. He begged the honor of shaking hands +with the great man from Boston. Then he shook hands with Galusha and +Miss Phipps. If Primmie had been present doubtless he would have +shaken hands with her. When Cabot suggested that the interview had best +terminate, he agreed with unction and oozed, rather than walked, through +that doorway. Watching from the window, they saw him stop when he +reached the road, draw a long breath, take a cigar from his pocket, +light it, hitch his cap a trifle to one side, and stride away, a moving +picture of still unshaken and serene self-confidence. + +Cabot laughed delightedly. “That fellow is a joy forever,” he declared. +“He's one of the seven wonders of the world.” + +Martha sniffed. “Then the world better keep a sharp watch on the other +six,” was her comment. “I wouldn't trust Raish Pulcifer alone +with Bunker Hill monument--not if 'twas a dark night and he had a +wheelbarrow.” + +Lulie came rushing from the sitting room. She had heard all the +Pulcifer-Bangs' dialogue and her one desire was to thank Galusha. But +Galusha was not present. While Martha and Mr. Cabot were at the window +watching the departure of Raish, the little man had left the room. + +“But I must see him,” cried Lulie. “Oh, Martha, just think! He is +responsible for EVERYTHING. Not only for sending father the Psychical +Society books, but for planning all that happened at the seance. You +heard what Raish said. He said that Mr. Bangs put him up to bribing +Marietta to pretend getting the message ordering father to sell his +stock. Why, if that is true--and, of course, it must be--and if--if +Nelson and I should--if it SHOULD end right for us--why, Martha, he will +be the one who made it possible. Oh, do you believe he did plan it, as +Raish said?” + +Martha nodded and turned away. “He seems to have spent most of his time +plannin' for other folks,” she said. + +“He didn't come through the sitting room,” said Lulie, “so he must be in +the kitchen with Primmie. I'm going to find him.” + +But she did not find him. Primmie said that Mr. Bangs had come out into +the kitchen, taken his hat and coat, and left the house by the back +door. Looking from that door, they saw his diminutive figure, already a +good distance off, moving across the fields. + +“He's on his way to the graveyard,” declared Primmie. Cabot was +startled. + +“On his way to the graveyard!” he repeated. “Why, he looked remarkably +well to me. What do you mean?” + +Lulie laughingly explained. A few minutes later, declaring that she must +leave her father alone no longer, she hurried away. Martha watched her +go. + +“She scarcely knows there is ground under her feet,” she observed. “A +light heart makes easy ballast, so my father used to say.” + +Cabot expressed his intention of starting for the city shortly after +noon. + +“Now that I know where those missing shares are, I can go with an easy +conscience,” he said. “I came 'way down here to get them and the faster +I came the farther off they were. Ha, ha! It's a great joke. I've had +a wonderful time, Miss Phipps. Well, I must see Galusha and get him to +sell that stock to me. I don't anticipate much difficulty. The old boy +didn't even know nor care where Barbour had put it.” + +Martha seemed to hesitate a moment. Then she said: “Mr. Cabot, I wonder +if you could spare a few minutes. I want to talk with you about +the money I owe--the money he GAVE me--for that stock, and a little +about--about your cousin himself. Last night when you spoke of him I +was--well, I was excited and upset and I didn't treat you very well, I'm +afraid. I'm sorry, but perhaps you'll excuse me, considerin' all that +had happened. Now I want to ask you one or two questions. There are some +things I don't--I can't quite understand.” + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +An hour or so later Galusha, sitting, forlorn and miserable, upon the +flat, damp and cold top of an ancient tomb in the old Baptist burying +ground, was startled to feel a touch upon his shoulder. He jumped, +turned and saw his cousin smiling down at him. + +“Well, Loosh,” hailed the banker, “at your old tricks, aren't you? In +the cemetery and perfectly happy, I suppose. No 'Hark from the tombs, +a doleful sound' in years, eh?... Hum! You don't look very happy this +time, though.” Then, with a comprehensive glance at the surroundings, he +shrugged and added, “Heavens, no wonder!” + +The picture was a dismal one on that particular day. The sky was +overcast and gray, with a distinct threat of rain. The sea was gray and +cold and cheerless. The fields were bare and bleak and across them +moved a damp, chill, penetrating breeze. From horizon to horizon not a +breathing creature, except themselves, was visible. And in the immediate +foreground were the tumbled, crumbling memorials of the dead. + +“Heavens, what a place!” repeated Cabot. “It's enough to give anybody +the mulligrubs. Why in the world do you come over here and--and go to +roost by yourself? Do you actually LIKE it?” + +Galusha sighed. “Sometimes I like it,” he said. Then, sliding over on +the tomb top, he added, “Won't you--ah--sit down, Cousin Gussie?” + +His relative shook his head. “No, I'll be hanged if I do!” he declared; +“not on that thing. Come over and sit on the fence. I want to talk to +you.” + +He led the way to a section of the rail fence which, although rickety, +was still standing. He seated himself upon the upper rail and Galusha +clambered up and perched beside him. The banker's first question was +concerning the six hundred and fifty shares of Development stock. + +“I know you gave the Phipps woman par for hers,” he said. “You told me +so and so did she. Did you pay old Whiskers--Hallett, I mean--the same +price?” + +Galusha shook his head. “I--ah--was obliged to pay him a little more,” + he said. “His--ah--wife insisted upon it.” + +“His wife? I thought his wife was dead.” + +“Yes--ah--she is. Yes, indeed, quite so.” + +When this matter was satisfactorily explained Cousin Gussie asked if +Galusha would be willing to sell his recently purchased shares at the +price paid. Of course Galusha would. + +“I should be very glad to make you a present of them, Cousin Gussie,” he +said, listlessly. “I do not care for them, really.” + +“I don't doubt that, but you won't do anything of the kind. As a matter +of fact, your buying those shares and taking them out of the market +was a mighty good thing for us. That Trust Company crowd was getting +anxious, so the Phipps woman says. By the way, I will send her a check +at once for her shares and she will hand it over to you. She was very +much disturbed because you had--as she called it--given her that five +thousand dollars.” + +Galusha nodded sadly. “Of course,” he said. “It was a--a very dreadful +thing to do. Oh, dear!” + +His relative, who was watching him intently, smiled. “She and I have had +a long talk,” he continued. “She couldn't understand about you, how +you could have so much money to--er--waste in that way. I gathered +she feared you might have impoverished yourself, or pledged the family +jewels, or something. And she plainly will not be easy one moment until +she has paid you. She is a very extraordinary woman, Loosh.” + +His companion did not answer. His gaze was fixed upon a winged death's +head on a battered slate gravestone near at hand. The death's head was +grinning cheerfully, but Galusha was not. + +“I say she is remarkable, that Phipps woman,” repeated Cousin Gussie. +The little man stirred uneasily upon the fence rail. + +“Her--ah--name is Martha--Martha Phipps--ah--MISS Martha Phipps,” he +suggested, with a slight accent upon the “Miss.” The banker's smile +broadened. + +“Apologies, Galusha,” he said, “to her--and to you.” He turned and gazed +steadily down at his relative's bowed head. + +“Loosh,” he said. + +“Eh?” Galusha looked up. “Eh? Did you speak?” he asked. + +“I did. No, don't look at that gravestone, look at me. Say, Loosh, why +did you do it?” + +“Eh?... I beg pardon.... Why did I... You mean why did I--ah--buy the +stock--and--and--” + +“Of course. Why did you? Oh, I know she was hard up and feared she +couldn't keep her home and all that; she has told me her story. And she +is a good woman and you were sorry for her. But, my boy, to take five +thousand dollars--even for YOU to take five thousand cold, hard, legal +tender dollars and toss them away for something which, so far as you +knew, was not worth five cents--that argues a little more than sympathy, +doesn't it? And when you add eight thousand more of those dollars to the +original five, then--Why did you do it, Loosh?” + +Galusha's gaze fell. He looked solemnly at the battered cherub upon the +gravestone and the cherub's grin was broad. + +“I bought Captain Hallett's stock,” he explained, “because I did not +wish Miss Mar--Miss Phipps to know that I had lied--and all the rest.” + +“Yes, yes, so you said. But why did you lie, Loosh? Why didn't you +tell her that you couldn't sell her stock for her? She would have +been disappointed, of course, but she would have understood; she is a +sensible woman.” + +Galusha, apparently, was considering the matter. It was a perceptible +interval before he answered. + +“I don't know, Cousin Gussie,” he confessed, after the interval was +over. “Really, I don't know. I think I felt, as I told you last night, +as if I had encouraged her to believe I should surely sell her shares +and--and that, therefore, I would be responsible for her disappointment. +And I--well, really, I simply could not face the thought of that +disappointment and all it would mean to her. I could not, indeed, no. I +suppose you consider it quite extraordinary, my feeling that so acutely. +Dear me, I suppose most people would. But I felt it. And I should do the +same thing again, I know I should.” + +“For her, you mean?” + +“Yes--yes, of course, for her.” + +“Humph! Say, Loosh, may I ask you a purely personal question? Will you +promise not to be offended if I do?” + +“Eh? Why, of course, Cousin Gussie. Of course. Dear me, ask anything you +like.” + +“All right. Loosh, are you in love with Miss Phipps?” + +Galusha started so violently as to throw him off his balance upon the +fence rail. He slid forward until his feet touched the ground. His +coat-tails, however, caught upon a projecting knot and the garment +remained aloft, a crumpled bundle, between his shoulder blades and the +back of his neck. He was not aware of it. His face expressed only one +emotion, great astonishment. And as his cousin watched, that expression +slowly changed to bewilderment and dawning doubt. + +“Well, how about it?” queried Cabot. “Are you in love with her, Loosh?” + +Galusha's mouth opened. “Why--good gracious!” he gasped. “Dear +me--ah--Why--why, I don't know.” + +The banker had expected almost any sort of reply, except that. + +“You don't KNOW!” he repeated. + +“No, I--I don't. I--I never thought of such a thing.” + +Cousin Gussie slowly shook his head. + +“Loosh,” he declared, “you are superb; do you realize it? So you don't +know whether you are in love with her or not. Well, put it this way: +Would you like to marry her, have her for your wife, live with her for +the rest of your days?” + +Galusha considered this astounding proposition, but only for the +briefest possible moment. His gentle, dreamy, wistful countenance seemed +almost to light up from within. His answer was given in one breath and +as if entirely without conscious volition. + +“Oh, very much,” he said, in a low tone. “Oh, yes, very much.” + +The Boston banker had been on the point of laughing when he asked the +question. But he did not laugh. He whistled instead. Then he smiled, but +it was not a smile of ridicule. + +Jumping from the fence rail, he laid a hand on his relative's shoulder. + +“Well, by Jove!” he exclaimed. “Forgive me, old man, will you? I had no +idea you were taking it so seriously. I... Well, by Jove!” + +Galusha did not speak. The same queer ecstatic brightness was upon his +face and he was looking now, not at the grinning cherub, but at the +distant horizon line of gray-green ocean and slate-gray sky. Cabot's +grip on his shoulder tightened. + +“So you really want to marry her,” he said.... “Humph!... Well, I'll be +hanged! Loosh, you--you--well, you certainly can surprise a fellow when +you really make a business of it.” + +The brightness was fading from Galusha's face. He sighed, removed his +spectacles, and seemed to descend from the clouds. He sighed again, and +then smiled his faint smile. + +“Dear me,” he said, “how ridiculous it was, wasn't it? You like a joke, +don't you, Cousin Gussie?” + +“Was it a joke, Loosh? You didn't look nor speak like a joker.” + +“Eh? Oh, yes, it was a joke, of course. Is it likely that a woman like +that would marry ME?” + +Again he astonished his relative into turning and staring at him. “Marry +you?” he cried. “SHE marry YOU? For heaven's sake, you don't imagine +there is any doubt that she would marry you if you asked her to, do +you?” + +“Why, of course. Why should she?” + +“Why SHOULD she? Why shouldn't she jump at the chance, you mean!” + +“Oh--oh, no, I don't. No, indeed. You are joking again, Cousin Gussie, +of course you are. Women don't like me; they laugh at me, they always +have, you know. I don't blame them. Very often I laugh at myself. I am +eccentric. I'm 'queer'; that is what every one says I am--queer. I don't +seem to think just as other people do, or--or to be able to dress as +they do--or--ah--oh, dear, everything. It used to trouble me a good deal +when I was young. I used to try, you know--ah--try very hard not to be +queer. I hated being queer. But it wasn't any use, so at last I gave +up trying. My kind of queerness is something one can't get over, +apparently; it's a sort of incurable disease. Dear me, yes, quite +incurable.” + +He had moved forward and his coat-tails had fallen into their normal +position, so the “queerness” of his outward appearance was modified; +but, as he stood there, with his puzzled, wistful expression, slowly +and impersonally picking himself to pieces, so to speak, Cabot felt +an overwhelming rush of pity for him, pity and a sort of indignant +impatience. + +“Oh, shut up, Galusha!” he snapped. “Don't be so confoundedly absurd. +You are one of the cleverest men in the world in your line. You are +distinguished. You are brilliant. If you were as queer as Dick's +hatband--whatever that is--it would make no difference; you have a right +to be. And when you tell me that a woman--yes, almost any woman, to say +nothing of one lost down here in these sand-hills--wouldn't marry you in +a minute, you're worse than queer--you're crazy, absolutely crazy.” + +“But--but Cousin Gussie, you forget. If there were no other reasons, you +forget what I have done. She could never believe in me again. No, nor +forgive me.” + +“Oh, DON'T! You disturb my digestion. Do you suppose there is a woman on +earth who wouldn't forgive a man who gave up thirteen thousand dollars +just to help her out of a difficulty? Gave it up, as you did, without a +whimper or even a whisper? And whose one worry has been that she might +find out the truth about his weird generosity? Oh, Loosh, Loosh, you ARE +crazy.” + +Galusha made no attempt to deny the charge of insanity. He was thinking +rapidly now and his face expressed his thought. + +“Do you--do you really think she might forgive me?” he asked, +breathlessly. + +“Think! Why, she and I had a long talk just before I came over here. +She thinks you are the best and most wonderful man on earth and all +she feared was that you had taken your last cent, or even borrowed the +money, to come to her rescue. When I told her you were worth a quarter +of a million, she felt better, but it didn't lessen her gratitude. +Forgive you! Oh, good Lord!” + +Galusha had heard only the first part of this speech. The ecstatic +expression was returning. He drew a long breath. + +“I--I wonder if she really would consider such a thing?” he murmured. + +“Consider what? Marriage? Well, I should say she wouldn't take much time +for consideration. She'll jump at it, I tell you. You are the one to +consider, old man. You are rich, and famous. Yes, and, although I have +never pinned quite as much faith to the 'family' idea as most of our +people do, still we have a sort of tradition to keep up, you know. +Now this--er--Miss Phipps is all right, no doubt; her people were good +people, doubtless, but--well, some of our feminine second and third +cousins will make remarks, Galusha. They surely will.” + +Galusha did not even trouble to answer this speech. His cousin +continued. + +“But that is your business, of course,” he said. “And I honestly believe +that in a good many ways she would make the ideal wife for you. She is +not bad looking, in a wholesome sort of way, she is competent and very +practical, has no end of common sense, and in all money matters she +would make the sort of manager you need. She... Say, look here, have you +heard one word of all I have been saying for the last three minutes ?” + +“Eh?... Oh, yes, indeed. Of course, quite so.” + +“I know better; you haven't.” + +“Yes--yes. That is, I mean no.... Pardon me, Cousin Gussie, I fear I was +not paying attention.... I shall ask her. Yes, if--if you are QUITE sure +she has forgiven me, I shall ask her.” + +He started toward the cemetery gate as if he intended asking her at +the first possible moment. His cousin followed him, his expression +indicating a mixture of misgiving and amusement. Suddenly he laughed +aloud. Galusha heard him and turned. His slight figure stiffened +perceptibly. + +“I beg pardon,” he said, after a moment. “Doubtless it is--ah--very +amusing, but I confess I do not quite see the joke.” + +Cabot laughed again. + +“Is it--ah--so funny?” inquired Galusha. “It does not seem so to me.” + +The banker took him by the arm. “No offense, old chap,” he said. “Funny? +Of course it's funny. It's wildly funny. Do you know what I was just +thinking? I was thinking of Aunt Clarissa. What do you suppose she would +have said to this?” + +He shouted at the thought. Galusha joined him to the extent of a smile. +“She would have said it was just what she expected of me,” he observed. +“Quite so--yes.” + +They walked on in silence for some time. Then Galusha stopped short. + +“I have just thought of something,” he said. “It--it MAY have some +influence. She has often said she wished she might see Egypt. We could +go together, couldn't we?” + +Cousin Gussie roared again. “Of course you could,” he declared. “And +I only wish I could go along. Loosh, you are more than superb. You are +magnificent.” + +He telephoned for his car and chauffeur and, soon after dinner, said +good-by to his hostess and his cousin and prepared to start for Boston. +The Sunday dinner was a bountiful one, well cooked, and he did justice +to it. Galusha, however, ate very little. He seemed to be not quite +certain whether he was at the table or somewhere in the clouds. + +The chauffeur discovered that he had scarcely oil and gasoline +sufficient for his hundred-mile trip and decided to drive to Trumet to +obtain more. Cabot, who felt the need of exercise after his hearty meal, +took a walk along the bluff edge as far as the point from which he could +inspect the property owned by the Development Company. + +He was gone almost an hour. On his return he met Galusha walking slowly +along the lane. The little man was without his overcoat, his hands were +clasped behind him and, although his eyes were open, he seemed to +see nothing, for he stumbled and staggered, sometimes in the road and +sometimes in the dead weeds and briars beside it. He did not see his +cousin, either, until the latter spoke. Then he looked up and nodded +recognition. + +“Oh!” he observed. “Yes, of course. Ah--How do you do?” + +Cabot was looking him straight in the face. + +“Loosh,” he asked, sharply. “What is it? What is the matter?” + +Galusha passed his hand across his forehead. + +“Oh, nothing, nothing,” he answered. + +“Nonsense! You look as if--Well, you can't tell me nothing is wrong. +ISN'T there something wrong?” + +The saddest smile in all creation passed across Galusha's face. +“Why--why, yes,” he said. “I suppose everything is wrong. I should have +expected it to be, of course. I--I did, but--ah--for a little while I +was--ah--foolish and--and hoped. It is quite all right, Cousin Gussie, +absolutely so. She said it was--ah--impossible. Of course it is. She is +quite right. Oh, quite.” + +Cabot caught his meaning. “Do you mean to say,” he demanded, “that you +asked that--that Phipps woman to marry you and she REFUSED?” + +“Eh? Oh, yes, she refused. I told you she would not think of such a +thing. That is exactly what she said; it was impossible, she could not +think of it.” + +“Well, confound her impudence!... Oh, all right, Galusha, all right. I +beg your pardon--and hers. But, really--” + +Galusha stopped him. “Cousin Gussie,” he said, “if you don't mind I +think I won't talk about it any more. You will excuse me, won't you? +I shall be all right, quite all right--after I--ah--after a time, you +know.” + +“Where are you going now?” + +“Eh? Oh, I don't know. Just somewhere, that's all. Good-by, Cousin +Gussie.” + +He turned and walked on again, his hands clasped behind his back and his +head bent. Cabot watched him for several minutes, then, entirely upon +impulse and without stopping to consider, he began what was, as he said +afterwards, either the craziest or the most inspired performance of +his life. He walked straight to the Phipps' gate and up the walk to the +Phipps' door. His chauffeur called to him that the car was ready, but he +did not answer. + +Primmie opened the door in answer to his knock. Yes, Miss Martha was +in the sitting room, she said. “But, my savin' soul, what are you doin' +back here, Mr. Cabot? Has the automobile blowed up?” + +He did not satisfy her curiosity. Instead, he knocked on the door of the +sitting room and, when Miss Phipps called to him to come in, he obeyed, +closing the door behind him. She was sitting by the window and her +sewing was in her lap. Yet he was almost certain she had not been +sewing. Her face was very grave and, although he could not see +distinctly, for the afternoon was cloudy and the room rather dark, it +seemed to him that there was a peculiar look about her eyes. She, like +her maid, was surprised to see him again. + +“Why, Mr. Cabot,” she cried, rising, “what is it? Has something +happened?” + +He plunged headfirst into the business that had brought him there. It +was the sort of business which, if approached with cool deliberation, +was extremely likely never to be transacted. + +“Miss Phipps,” he said, “I came back here on an impulse. I have +something I want to say to you. In a way it isn't my affair at all +and you will probably consider my mentioning it a piece of brazen +interference. But--well, there is a chance that my interfering now may +prevent a very serious mistake--a grave mistake for two people--so I am +going to take the risk. Miss Phipps, I just met my cousin and he gave me +to understand that you had refused his offer of marriage.” + +He paused, momentarily, but she did not speak. Her expression said a +good many things, however, and he hurried on in order to have his say +before she could have hers. + +“I came here on my own responsibility,” he explained. “Please don't +think that he has the slightest idea I am here. He is, as you know, the +mildest person on earth, but I'm not at all sure he wouldn't shoot me if +he knew what I came to say to you. Miss Phipps, if you possibly can do +so I earnestly hope you will reconsider your answer to Galusha Bangs. +He is very fond of you, he would make you a kind, generous husband, and, +honestly, I think you are just the sort of wife he needs.” + +She spoke then, not as if she had meant to, but more as if the words +were involuntarily forced from her by shock. + +“You--you think I am the sort of wife he needs?” she gasped. “_I_?” + +“Yes, you. Precisely the sort.” + +“For--for HIM. YOU think so?” + +“Yes. Now, of course, if you do not--er--care for him, if you could not +think of him as a husband--oh, hang it, I don't know how to put it, but +you know what I mean. If you don't WANT to marry him then that is your +business altogether and you are right in saying no. But if you SHOULD +care for him and refused him because you may have thought there was +any--er--unsuitability--er--unfitness--oh, the devil, I don't know what +to call it--if you thought there was too large an element of that in the +match, then I beg of you to reconsider, that's all. He needs you.” + +“Needs me? Needs ME?... Oh--oh, you must be crazy!” + +“Not a bit of it. He needs you. You have all the qualities, common +sense, practicability, everything he hasn't got. It is for his sake I'm +asking this, Miss Phipps. I truly believe you have the making or marring +of his future in your hands--now. That is why I hope you will--well, +change your mind.... There! I have said it. Thank you for listening. +Good-day.” + +He turned to the door. She spoke once more. “Oh, you MUST be jokin'!” + she cried. “How CAN you say such things? His people--his family--” + +“Family? Oh... well, I'll tell you the truth about that. When he +was young he had altogether too much family. Now he hasn't any, +really--except myself, and I have expressed my opinion. Good-by, Miss +Phipps.” + +He went out. Martha slowly went back to her rocking-chair and sat down. +A moment later she heard the roar of the engine as the Cabot car got +under way. The sound died away in the distance. Martha rose and went +up the stairs to her own room. There she sat down once more and +thought--and thought. + +Some time later she heard her lodger's footstep--how instantly she +recognized it--in the hall and then in his bedroom. He was in that room +but a short time, then she heard him go down the stairs again. Perhaps +ten minutes afterward Primmie knocked. She wished permission to go down +to the village. + +“I just thought maybe I'd go down to the meetin' house,” explained +Primmie. “They're goin' to have a Sunday school concert this afternoon +at four o'clock. Zach he said he was cal'latin' to go. And besides, +Mr. Bangs he give me this letter to leave to the telegraph office, Miss +Martha.” + +“The telegraph office isn't open on Sundays, Primmie.” + +“No'm, I know 'tain't. But Ras Beebe he takes care of all the telegraphs +there is and telephones 'em over to Denboro, where the telegraph place +IS open Sundays.” + +“Oh, all right, Primmie, you may go. Is Mr. Bangs in?” + +“No'm, he ain't. He's gone out somewheres. To walk, I cal'late. Last I +see of him he was moonin' along over towards the lighthouse way.” + +Primmie departed and Martha, alone in the gathering dimness of the +afternoon, resumed her thinking. It was an endless round, that thinking +of hers--but, of course, it could end in but one way. Even to wish such +things was wicked. For his sake, that was what Mr. Cabot had said. Ah, +yes, but it was for his sake that she must remain firm. + +A big drop of rain splashed, and exploded like a miniature watery +bombshell, against the windowpane. Martha looked up. Then she became +aware of a faint tinkling in the room below. The telephone bell was +ringing. + +She hurried downstairs and put the receiver to her ear. It was Mr. Beebe +speaking and he wished to ask something concerning a message which had +been left in his care by Primmie Cash. + +“It's signed by that Mr. Galushy Bangs of yours,” explained Erastus. +“I've got to 'phone it to the telegraph office and there's a word in it +I can't make out. Maybe you could help me, Martha, long's Bangs isn't +there. 'Tain't nothin' private, I don't cal'late. I'll read it to you if +you want I should.” + +He began to read without waiting for permission. The message was +addressed to the Board of Directors of the National Institute at +Washington, D. C., and began like this: + +“Deeply regret necessity of refusing your generous and flattering offer +to lead--” + +It was just here that Mr. Beebe's ability to decipher the Bangs' +handwriting broke down. + +“I can't make out the next word, Martha,” he said. “It begins with an +F, but the rest of it ain't nothin' but a string of kinks. It's all head +and no tail, that word is.” + +“What does it look like?” + +“Hey? Looks like a whiplash or an eel, more'n anything else. It might be +'epizootic' or--or--'eclipsin''--or--The word after it ain't very plain +neither, but I kind of think that it's 'expedition.'” + +“'Expedition'? Is the word you can't make out 'Egyptian'?” + +“Hey?... 'Egyptian?' Well, I snum, I guess 'tis! 'Egyptian.' . . . +Humph! I never thought of that. I--” + +“Read me the whole of that telegram, Erastus. Read it.” + +Mr. Beebe read it. “Deeply regret necessity of refusing your generous +and flattering offer to lead Egyptian expedition. Do not feel equal to +the work. Decision final. Will write.--Galusha Bangs.” + +Martha's hand shook as it held the receiver to her ear. He had refused +the greatest honor of his life. He had declined to carry out the +wonderful “plan” concerning which he and she had so often speculated.... +And she knew why he had refused. + +“Erastus! Ras!” she called. “Hello, Ras! Hold that telegram. Don't send +it yet. Do you hear?” + +Mr. Beebe's voice expressed his surprise. “Why, yes, Martha,” he said, +“I hear. But I don't know. You see, Mr. Bangs, he sent a note along with +the telegram sayin' he wanted it rushed.” + +“Never mind. You hold it until you hear from me again--or from him. Yes, +I'll take all the responsibility. Erastus Beebe, don't you send that +telegram.” + +She hung up the receiver and hurried to the outer door. Galusha was +nowhere in sight. Then she remembered that Primmie had said he had gone +toward the lighthouse. She threw a knitted scarf over her shoulders, +seized an umbrella from the rack--for the walk showed broad splashes +where drops of rain had fallen--and started in search of him. She had +no definite plan. She was acting as entirely upon impulse as Cabot +had acted in seeking their recent interview; but of one thing she was +determined--he should not wreck his career if she, in any way, could +prevent it. + +She reached the gate of the government property, but she did not open +it. She was certain he would not be in the light keeper's cottage; she +seemed to have an intuition as to where he was, and, turning, followed +the path along the edge of the bluff. She followed it for perhaps three +hundred yards, then she saw him. He was sitting upon a knoll, his hands +clasped about his knees. The early dusk of the gloomy afternoon was +rapidly closing in, the raindrops were falling more thickly, but he did +not seem to realize these facts, or, if he did, to care. He sat there, a +huddled little bundle of misery, and her heart went out to him. + +He did not hear her approach. She came and stood beside him. + +“Mr. Bangs,” she said. + +Then he looked up, saw her, and scrambled to his feet. + +“Why--why, Miss Martha!” he exclaimed. “I did not see you--ah--hear you, +I mean. What is it? Is anything wrong?” + +She nodded. She found it very hard to speak and, when she did do so, her +voice was shaky. + +“Yes,” she said, “there is. Somethin' very wrong. Why did you telegraph +the Institute folks that you wouldn't accept their offer?... Oh, I found +it out. Ras Beebe couldn't get one word in your message and he read it +to me over the 'phone. But that doesn't matter. That doesn't count. Why +did you refuse, Mr. Bangs?” + +He put his hand to his forehead. “I--I am sorry if it troubled you,” + he said. “I didn't mean for you to know it--ah--yet. I refused +because--well, because I did not care to accept. The--the whole thing +did not appeal to me, somehow. I have lost interest in it--ah--quite. +Dear me, yes--quite.” + +“Lost interest! In Egypt? In such a wonderful chance as this gives you? +Oh, you can't! You mustn't!” + +He sighed and then smiled. “It does seem queer, doesn't it?” he +admitted. “Yet it is quite true. I have lost interest. I don't seem to +care even for Egypt. Now that is very odd.” + +“But--but if you refuse this what WILL you do?” + +He smiled again. “I don't know,” he said. “I don't seem to care. But it +is quite all right, Miss Martha. Really it is. I--I wouldn't have you +think--Oh, dear, no!” + +“But what WILL you do? Tell me.” + +“I don't know. No doubt I shall do something. One has to do that, I +suppose. It is only that--” Then, as a new thought came to him, he +turned to her in alarm. “Oh, of course,” he cried, hastily, “I sha'n't +remain here. Please don't think I intend imposing upon you longer. I +shall go--ah--at once--to-morrow--ah almost immediately. You have been +extremely kind and long-suffering already and--and--” + +She interrupted. “Don't!” she said, hurriedly. “Don't! Mr. Bangs, have +you truly made up your mind not to go to Egypt with that expedition? +Won't you PLEASE do it, if I beg you to?” + +He slowly shook his head. + +“It is like you,” he said, “to take such an interest, but, if--if you +don't mind, I had rather not. I can't. Really, I--ah--can't. It--Well, +the thought of it--ah--repels me. Please don't ask me, Miss Martha, +because--I can't.” + +She hesitated. Then she said, “Would you go if I went with you?” + +He had been looking, not at her, but at the sea. Now he slowly turned. + +“Why--why--” he stammered. “Why, Miss--Oh, dear me, you don't--you can't +mean--” + +She shook her head. “I suppose I mean anything,” she said, “anything +that will stop you from throwin' away your life work.” + +He was very pale and his eyes were fixed upon her face. “Do you mean--” + he began, “do you mean you could--you would marry me?” + +She shook her head again. “I think I must be crazy,” she said, +desperately. “I think we all must be, your cousin as well as the rest of +us. He came to me a little while ago and asked me to--to say yes to you. +HE did! He, of all people! The--the very one that I--I--” + +“Yes, yes, yes, of course.” Galusha was trembling with eagerness. “Yes, +of course. Cousin Gussie is an extraordinarily able man. He approves of +it highly. He told me so.” + +She scarcely heard him. “Oh, don't you see,” she went on, “why it would +be wicked for me to think of such a thing? You are a great man, a famous +man; you have been everywhere and seen everything; I haven't had any +real education, any that counts besides yours; I haven't been anywhere; +I am just a country old maid. Oh, you would be ashamed of me in a +month.... No, no, no, I mustn't. I won't.” + +“But, Miss Martha--” + +“No. Oh, no!” + +She turned away. Galusha had what was, for him, an amazing and +unprecedented inspiration. + +“Very well,” he declared. “I shall go to--to the devil, I think. Yes, I +will. I shall give away my money, all of it, and go to the devil.” + +It was absurd enough, but the absurdity of it did not strike either of +them then. + +“Oh, WON'T you go to Egypt?” she begged. “Won't you, PLEASE?” + +He was firm. “No,” he declared. “Not unless you go with me. Ah--ah--Miss +Martha, will you?” + +She hesitated, wrung her hands--and surrendered. “Oh, I suppose I shall +have to,” she said. + +He did not dare believe it. + +“But--but I don't want you to have to,” he cried. “YOU mustn't marry me +for--for Egypt, Miss Martha. Of course, it is too much to ask; no +doubt it is quite impossible, but you--you mustn't marry me unless you +really--ah--want to.” + +And then a very astonishing thing happened. Martha turned to him, and +tears were in her eyes. + +“Oh,” she cried, breathlessly, “do you suppose there is a woman in this +world who wouldn't want to marry a man like YOU?” + + + +After a while they discovered that it was raining. As a matter of fact, +it had been raining for some time and was now raining hard, but as +Galusha said, it didn't make a bit of difference, really. They put up +the umbrella, which until now had been quite forgotten, and walked home +along the wet path, between the dripping weeds and bushes. It was almost +dark and, as they passed the lighthouse, the great beacon blazed from +the tower. + +Galusha was babbling like a brook, endlessly but joyful. + +“Miss Martha--” he began. Then he laughed aloud, a laugh of +sheer happiness. “It--it just occurred to me,” he exclaimed. “How +extraordinary I didn't think of it before. I sha'n't have to call you +Miss Martha now, shall I? It is very wonderful, isn't it? Dear me, yes! +Very wonderful!” + +Martha laughed, too. “I'm afraid other people are goin' to think it is +very ridiculous,” she said. “And perhaps it is. Two middle-aged, settled +folks like us startin' up all at once and gettin' married. I know I +should laugh if it was anybody else.” + +But Galusha stoutly maintained there was nothing ridiculous about it. It +was wonderful, that was all. + +“Besides,” he declared, “we are not old; we are just beginning to be +young, you and I. Personally, I feel as if I could jump over a bush and +annihilate a--ah--June bug, as Luce did that night when we went out to +see the moon.” + +Luce himself was at the door waiting to be let in. He regarded the pair +with the air of condescending boredom which the feline race assumes when +confronted with the idiosyncrasies of poor humanity. Possibly he was +reflecting that, at least, he knew enough to go in when it rained. +Martha opened the door, but Galusha paused for a moment on the +threshold. + +“Do you know,” he said, “that, except--ah--occasionally, in wet weather, +it scarcely ever rains in Egypt?” + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +(A letter from Mrs. Galusha Bangs to Miss Lulie Hallett.) + + +Shepheard's Hotel, Cairo, Egypt, February tenth. + +MY DEAR LULIE: + +Well, as you can see by this hotel letter paper, here we are, actually +here. Of course we are only a little way toward where we are going, but +this is Egypt, and I am beginning to believe it. Of course, I can't yet +quite believe it is really truly me that is doing these wonderful things +and seeing these wonderful places. About every other morning still I +wake up and think what a splendid dream I have had and wonder if it +isn't time for me to call Primmie and see about getting breakfast. And +then it comes to me that it isn't a dream at all and that I don't have +to get up unless I want to, that I don't have to do anything unless I +want to, and that everything a sensible person could possibly want to do +I CAN do, and have a free conscience besides, which is considerable. +I don't mean that I lay a-bed much later than I used to. I never could +abide not getting up at a regular time, and so half past seven generally +finds me ready to go down to breakfast. But, oh, it is a tremendous +satisfaction to think that I could sleep later if I ever should want to. +Although, of course, I can't conceive of my ever wanting to. + +Well, I mustn't fill this whole letter with nonsense about the time I +get up in the morning. There is so much to write about that I don't know +where to begin. I do wish you could see this place, Lulie. I wish you +could be here now looking out of my room window at the crowds in the +street. I could fill a half dozen pages telling you about the clothes +the people wear, although I must say that I have seen some whose clothes +could be all told about in one sentence, and not a very long sentence +at that. But you see all kinds of clothes, uniforms, and everyday things +such as we wear, and robes and fezzes and turbans and I don't know what. +You know what a fez is, of course. It's shaped like a brown-bread tin +and they wear it little end up with a tassel hanging down. And turbans! +To me, when I used to see pictures of people wearing turbans, they were +just pictures, that's all. It didn't seem as if any one actually tied up +the top of their head in a white sheet and went parading around looking +like a stick with a snowball stuck on the end of it. But they do, and +most of them look as dignified as can be, in spite of the snowball. And +I have seen camels, quantities of them, and donkeys, and, oh, yes, about +a million dogs, not one of them worth anything and perfectly contented +to be that way. And dirt! Oh, Lulie, I didn't believe there was as much +dirt in all creation as there is in just one of the back streets over +here. Galusha asked me the other day if I didn't wish I could go into +one of the houses and see how the people lived; he meant the poor +people. I told him no, not if he ever expected me to get anywhere else. +If the inside of one of those houses was like the outside, I was sure +and certain that I should send for a case of soap and a hundred barrels +of hot water and stay there scrubbing the rest of my life. And, oh, yes, +I have seen the Pyramids. + +Of course, you want to know how I got along on the long voyage over. I +wrote you a few lines from Gibraltar telling you a little about that. I +wasn't seasick a single bit. I think it must be in our blood, this being +able to keep well and happy on salt water. Our family has always been to +sea, as far back as my great-great-grandfather, at least, and I suppose +that explains why, as soon as I stepped aboard the steamer, I felt as +if I was where I belonged. And Galusha, of course, has traveled so much +that he is a good sailor, too. So, no matter whether it was calm or +blowy, he and I walked decks or sat in the lee somewhere and talked of +all that had happened and of what was going to happen. And, Lulie, I +realized over and over, as I have been realizing ever since I agreed +to marry him, what a wonderful man he is and what a happy and grateful +woman I ought to be--and am, you may be sure of that. Every day I make +a little vow to myself that I will do my best not to make him ashamed of +me. Of course, no matter what I did he would think it all right, but I +mean to prevent other people from being ashamed for him. That is, if I +can, but I have so much to learn. + +You should see how he is treated over here, by the very finest people, +I mean. It seems to me that every scientist or explorer or professor of +this or that from China to London has been running after him, all those +that happen to be in this part of the world, I mean. And always he is +just the same quiet, soft-spoken, gentle person he was at the Cape, but +it is plain to see that when it comes to matters about his particular +profession, my husband is known and respected everywhere. Perhaps you +will think, Lulie, that I am showing off a little when I write “my +husband” like that. Well, I shouldn't wonder if I was. Nobody could help +being proud of him. + +I had a trial the other evening. That is, it seemed as if it would be +the greatest trial that ever I had to face and my, how I dreaded it. Sir +Ernest Brindlecombe, an English scientist, and, so Galusha says, a very +great man, indeed, is here with his wife, and they have known Galusha +for years. So nothing would do but we must come to their house to +dinner. He is in the English government service and they have a +wonderful home, more like a palace than a house--that is, what I have +always supposed a palace must be like. I felt as if I COULDN'T go, but +Galusha had accepted already, so what was there to do? + +Of course, you are wondering what I wore. Well, as I wrote you from +Washington, I had bought a lot of new things. The wife of Professor +Lounsbury, at the Institute, helped me pick them out, and oh, what +should I have done without her! Galusha, of course, would have rigged +me up like the Queen of Sheba, if he had had his way. I tried going +shopping with him at first, but I had to give it up. Every pretty dress +he saw, no matter if it was about as fitting for my age and weight as a +pink lace cap would be for a cow, he wanted to buy it right off. If the +price was high enough, that seemed to be the only thing that counted in +his mind. I may as well say right here, Lulie, that I have learned +by this time, when he and I do go shopping together, to carry the +pocketbook myself. In that way we can manage to bring home something, +even if it is only enough to buy a postage stamp. + +But I am wandering, as usual. You want to know about the dinner at the +Brindlecombes'. Well, thanks to Mrs. Lounsbury's help and judgment, I +had two dresses to pick from, two that seemed right for such a grand +affair as I was afraid this was going to be. And I picked out a black +silk, trimmed-- + +(Two pages of Mrs. Bangs' letter are omitted here) + +There is more of it at the top and bottom than there was to a whole lot +of evening gowns I have seen, on the steamer and in Washington, but I +can't help that. I guess I am old-fashioned and countrified, but it +does seem to me that the place to wear a bathing suit is in the water, +especially for a person of my age. However, it is a real sensible and +rich-looking dress, even if it is simple, and I think you would like it. +At any rate, I put it on and Galusha got into his dress suit, after I +had helped him find the vest, and stopped him from putting one gold stud +and two pearl ones in his shirt. HE didn't notice, bless him, he was +thinking of everything but what he was doing at the minute, as he always +is. + +So, both in our best bibs and tuckers, and all taut and ready for the +sea, as father would have said, we were driven over to the Brindlecombe +house, or palace, whichever you call it. Mr. Brindlecombe--or Sir Ernest +I suppose he should be called, although _I_ never remembered to do +it, but called him Mr. Brindlecombe the whole evening--was a fleshy, +bald-headed man, who looked the veriest little bit like Mr. Dearborn, +the Congregational minister at Denboro, and was as pleasant and jolly as +could be. His wife was a white-haired little lady, dressed plainly--the +expensive kind of plainness, you know--and with a diamond pin that +was about as wonderful as anything I ever saw. And I kept thinking +to myself: “Oh, what SHALL I say to you? What on EARTH shall we talk +about?” and not getting any answer from myself, either. + +But I needn't have worried. She was just as sweet and gentle and +every-day as any one could be, and pretty soon it came out that we both +loved flowers. That was enough, of course, and so while Mr. Sir Ernest +and Galusha were mooning along together about “dynasties” and “papyri” + and “sphinxes” and “Ptolemies” and “hieroglyphics” and mummies and mercy +knows what, his wife and I were having a lovely time growing roses and +dahlias and lilies. She told me a new way to keep geranium roots alive +for months after taking them up. She learned it from her gardener and if +ever I get a chance I am going to try it. Well, Lulie, instead of +having a dreadful time I enjoyed every minute of it, and yesterday Mrs. +Brindlecombe--Lady Brindlecombe, I suppose she really is--came and took +me to drive. We shopped and had a glorious afternoon. I presume likely +I said “Mercy me” and “Goodness gracious” as often as I usually do and +that they sounded funny to her. But she said “My word” and “Fancy” + and they sounded just as funny to me. And it didn't make a bit of +difference. + +There was one thing that came from our dinner at the Brindlecombes' +which I must tell you, because it is so very like this blessed husband +of mine. I happened to speak of Mrs. Brindlecombe's pin, the wonderful +one I just wrote about. The very next day Galusha came trotting in, +bubbling over with mischief and mystery like the boy he is in so many +things, and handed me a jeweler's box. When I opened it there was a +platinum brooch with a diamond in it as big--honestly, Lulie, I believe +it was as big as my thumbnail, or two thirds as big, anyway. This +husband of mine had, so he told me, made up his mind that nobody's wife +should own a more wonderful pin than HIS wife owned. “Because,” he +said, “nobody else has such a wonderful wife, you know. Dear me, no. No, +indeed.” + +Well, I almost cried at first, and then I set about thinking how I could +get him to change the pin and do it without hurting his feelings. As for +wearing it--why, Lulie, I would have looked like the evening train just +coming up to the depot platform. That diamond flashed like the Gould's +Bluffs light. The sight of it would have made Zach Bloomer feel at home. +And when I found out what it cost! My soul and body! Well, I used all +the brains I had and strained them a little, I'm afraid, but at last +I made him understand that perhaps something a tiny bit smaller would +look, when I wore it in the front of my dress, a little less like a +bonfire on a hill and we went back to the jewelry store together. The +upshot of it was that I have a brooch--lots smaller, of course--and a +ring, either of which is far, far too grand for a plain woman like me, +and which I shall wear only on the very stateliest of state occasions +and NEVER, I think, both at the same time, and I saved Galusha a good +many dollars besides. + +So, you see, Lulie, that he is the same impractical, absent-minded, dear +little man he was down there in East Wellmouth, even though he is such +a famous scientist and discoverer. I think I got the best salve for +my conscience from knowing that, otherwise I should always feel that I +never should have let him marry me. In most respects I am not a bit +the wife he should have, but I hope I am of some use in his practical +affairs and that at last I can keep him from being imposed upon. I try. +For instance, on the steamer his cap blew overboard. I wish you could +have seen the cap the ship's steward sold him. The thing he bought at +Ras Beebe's store was stylish and subdued compared to it. And I wish you +could have seen that steward when I got through talking to him. Every +day smooth-talking scamps, who know him by reputation, come with schemes +for getting him to invest in something, or with pitiful tales about +being Americans stranded far away from home. I take care of these sharks +and they don't bite me, not often. I told one shabby, red-nosed rascal +yesterday that, so far as he was concerned, no doubt it was tough to be +stranded with no way of getting to the States, as he called them; but +that I hadn't heard yet how the States felt about it. So I help Galusha +with money matters and see that he dresses as he should and eats what +and when he should, and try, with Professor King, his chief assistant +with the expedition, to keep his mind from worry about little things. He +seems very happy and I certainly mean to keep him so, if I can. + +We talk about you and Nelson and Captain Jethro every day. The news in +your last letter, the one we found at Gibraltar, was perfectly splendid. +So you are to be married in June. And Galusha and I can't come to your +wedding; that is a shame. By the time we get back you will be so long +settled in the cottage at the radio station that it won't seem new at +all to you. But it will be very new to us and we shall just love to see +it and the new furniture and your presents and everything. We both think +your father's way of taking it perfectly splendid. I am glad he still +won't have a word to say to Marietta Hoag or her crowd of simpletons. +Galusha says to tell your father that he must not feel in the least +obliged to him for his help in exposing Marietta as a cheat. He says it +was very good fun, really, and didn't amount to much, anyway. You and I +know it did, of course, but he always talks that way about anything he +does. And your thanks and Captain Jethro's pleased him very much. + +Primmie writes that... + +(A page omitted. See Primmie's letter.) + +Please keep an eye on her and see that she doesn't set fire to the house +or feed the corn to the cat and the liver to the hens, or some such +foolishness. And don't let her talk you deaf, dumb and blind. + +There! this letter is so long that I think it will have to go in a +trunk, by express or freight or something. One week more and we +start for upper Egypt, by water, up the Nile, at first, then on by +automobiles. Yes, little American automobiles. Galusha says we shall +use camels very little, for which I say “Hurrah, hurrah!” I cannot see +myself navigating a camel--not for long, and it IS such a high perch +to fall from. Our love to you and Nelson and to your father. And oh, so +very much to yourself. And we DO wish we might come to your wedding. +We shall be there in spirit--and that doesn't mean Marietta's kind of +spirits, either. + +Your affectionate friend, + +MARTHA BANGS. + + +(A letter from Miss Primrose Cash to Mrs. Galusha Bangs.) + + +East Wellmouth, Massachusetts, United States of America. January +seventh. + +DEAR MRS. MARTHA: + +I take my pen in hand to write that I am first rate and fine and dandy +and hope you and Mr. Galusha are the same, although I am homesick for +the sight of you and hope you ain't. I mean homesick. By this time I +calculate you must be somewheres over in Egypt or Greek or China or land +knows where. I am sending this letter to the address you give me and if +you don't get it before you get there you will then, I hope and trust. +And I hope, too, you had a good voyage and was not washed overboard or +seasick like Captain Ephraim Small's son, Frankie D., who had it happen +to him up on the fish banks, you remember. I mean the washing overboard +happened to him for, of course, I don't know whether he was seasick or +not, though I presume likely, for I always am, no matter if it's carm +as a milpond, but anyhow they never found his body, poor soul. I presume +likely you want to hear the news from around here at East Wellmouth. +Well, there ain't none, but I will try and tell all there is that I +can think of. The hens are well and Lucy Larkum is fine and dandy and +appytite, my savin' soul. I tell him he will eat me out of house and +home, though I realize it ain't neither of them mine, but yours, Mrs. +Martha. Captain Jethro is doing fine. For a spell after the seants where +your husband made a fool out of Maryetter Hoag and Raish Pulcifer to +thank the Lord, he was reel kind of feeble and Lulie and me and Zach was +worried. But he is swell now and all hands is talking about his making +up with Nelse Howard and agreeing for him and Lulie to get married and +live over to the Radyo stashun pretty soon I presume likely, for the +weding is to be held in June so Zach says. At first go off, Captain Jeth +he calculated maybe he would heave up, I mean his job tending light, +and go live along with them, but after he got feeling better he said he +wouldent but would stick to the ship and keep on the course long as he +could stay aflote. That's what Zach says he said and I tell you I am +mity glad, because if I was Lulie and Nelse I wouldent want anybody even +if it was my own father coming to live along with me and bossing things, +because Captain Jeth couldent no more stop bossing than he could stop +pulling his whiskers and he won't never stop that long as he ain't +parulised. So he will live here along with Zach and them two will tend +light and Lulie can come over and see her pa every little spell and they +can telyfone back and forth between times. And she and Nelse have been +up to Boston to pick out fernichure and ain't they enjoying it, my lord +of isryel. Lulie is about as loony over getting married as ever I see +anybody unless it was you and Mr. Bangs, Mrs. Martha. I seen Raish +Pulcifer down street yesterday and he said give you his love when I +wrote. I told him I guessed likely you could get along without any +special love of his and he said never mind I could keep it myself then. +I told him I could get along without it a considerable sight bettern +I could with it. He is as sassy and fresh as ever and more so to on +account of Mr. Cabot paying him so much money for his stock. And the new +hotel is going to be bilt over on the land by the Crick and all hands +says it's going to be the best in the state. Raish has got a whole new +rigout of clothes and goes struting around as if everything was due to +his smartness. Zach says Raish Pulcifer is running for the job of first +mate to the Allmighty but he don't hardly calculate he will be elected. +Maryetter Hoag is going to heave up speritulism so Tamson Black told +me she heard and going to help in a millunary store over to Onset next +summer. Maybe it's so and maybe it ain't, because Tamson is such an +awful liar you can't depend on nothing she says. Zach says if an eel +tried to follow one of Tamson's yarns he would get his backboan in +such a snarl it would choak him to death. And Zach says he calculates +Maryetter will take little Cherry Blossom in silent partener. Zach comes +over to see me sometimes nights after supper and we set in the kitchen +and talk and talk about you and Mr. Galusha mostly, but about Lulie and +Nelse and Captain Jeth, too, and about everybody else we happen to run +afoul of or that comes handy. Zach is real good company, although he +does call me Posy and Pink and Geranyum and dear land knows what and +keeps his talk agoing so nobody else can't scarcely get a word in +between breaths. He says tell you that he will keep a weather eye on +me and see that I didn't get the lockjor nor swallow my mouthorgan nor +nothing. I tell him nobody could get lockjor where he was on account of +watching how he keeps his own jor agoing. He means well but he is kind +of ignorant Zach is. Speaking of weather reminds me that the northeast +gale we had last week blowed the trellis off the back part of the house +and ripped the gutter off the starboard side of the barn. I had Jim +Fletcher put it on again and he charged me three dollars, the old skin. +I ain't paid him yet and he can whisle for his money till he whisles one +dollar off the bill anyhow. There, Mrs. Martha, I have got to stop. Luce +is around screeching and carrying on for his dinner till you would think +he hadent had anything for a month instead of only since breakfast. I +will write again pretty soon. Lots of love to you and Mr. Bangs and do +tell me when you go to ride on a camel. That would be some sight, I will +say, and Zach he says so, too, but he bets you can do it if you set +out to and so do I. Anyhow, you can if Mr. Galusha skippers the cruise +because that man can do anything. And to think that I used to calculate +he had the dropsy or was a undertaker or a plain fool or something. +Well, you can't never tell by a person's looks, can you, Mrs. Martha. +Zach says so, too. + +Yours truly, + +PRIMROSE CASH. + +P.S. Have you seen Mr. Bangs dig up any mummies yet? How he can do it +and keep out of jale, my saving soul, I don't know. To say nothing of +maybe catching whatever it was they died of. + +P.S. Won't you please try and see if you can't have a tintype took when +you ride the camel and send me one? + + +(Extracts from a letter from Mr. Galusha Bangs to Mr. Augustus Cabot.) + + +. . . And so, as you see, Cousin Gussie, we are getting on well with +the work of preparation and shall be ready to leave soon. Our excavating +this season will be but preliminary, of course owing to our late start. +I am enjoying it all immensely and it is wonderfully exhilarating and +inspiring to be back once more in the field. But my greatest inspiration +is my wife. She is a remarkable woman. A most extraordinary woman, +I assure you. How in the world I managed to exist without her +companionship and guidance and amazingly practical help all these +years I cannot imagine. And I did not really exist, of course, I merely +blundered along. She is--well, I really despair of telling you how +wonderful she is. And when I think how much of my present happiness I +owe to you, Cousin Gussie, I... + + * * * * * + +But the greatest miracle, the miraculousness--I don't know there is such +a word, but there should be--of which sets me wondering continually, is +that she should have been willing to marry an odd, inconsequential sort +of stick like me. And I find myself saying over and over: “WHAT have I +ever done to deserve it?...” + + +Mr. Cabot was reading the letter from which these extracts were made to +a relative, a Miss Deborah Cabot, known to him and the family as “Third +Cousin Deborah.” At this point in the reading he looked up and laughed. + +“By Jove!” he exclaimed. “Isn't that characteristic? Isn't that like +him? Well, I told him once that he was magnificent. And he is, not as I +meant it then, but literally.” + +Third Cousin Deborah sniffed through her thin nostrils. “Well, perhaps,” + she admitted, “but such a performance as this marriage of his is a +little too much. _I_ can't understand him, Augustus. I confess he is +quite beyond ME.” + +Cabot smiled. “In many things--and possibly the things that count most, +after all, Deborah,” he observed, “I have come to the conclusion that +old Galusha is far beyond the majority of us.” + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GALUSHA THE MAGNIFICENT *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. 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