CHAPTER X
When, at last--and it took some time--Martha Phipps was actuallyconvinced that her lodger's "Cousin Gussie" was no less a person thanthe senior partner of the famous banking firm of Cabot, Bancroft andCabot, she was almost as excited as he.
"Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot," she repeated. "Why, everybody knows aboutthem! They are the biggest bankers in New England. I have heard fathersay so ever so many times. And this Mr. Cabot, is he really yourcousin?"
Galusha nodded. "Oh, yes," he said. "He is my cousin--really he is. Ihave always called him Cousin Gussie; that is," he added, "except when Iworked 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? Wereyou a banker?"
Galusha shook his head. "No," he said. "Dear me, no! But once I tried tobe."
"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 ita long while ago, or I thought I had, but for a time I--I felt verybadly--ah--ungrateful, you know."
Martha didn't know, nor did she in the least understand, but she didnot, of course, press the subject.
"Why, I can hardly believe it," she said. "That about your bein' thatMr. Cabot's cousin, I mean. But of course I do believe it, if you sayso, Mr. Bangs. And you think he would tell me what to do with thisDevelopment stock of mine, whether it is worth anything or not? He wouldknow, 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," headded, as a final clincher, "he takes care of all my money, really, hedoes."
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, andthen ask his advice? Is that it?"
That was not exactly it, apparently. Galusha thought that perhaps hemight go to Boston forthwith, on the very next train, and consult CousinGussie 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 youwent to your cousin that you could tell him this Development Companyyarn 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 learnit--ah--by rote, perhaps, but I doubt if ever I could understand itthoroughly."
"Well, never mind. My plan would be to have you write your cousin aletter 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 twothings: Number One--Is the Development stock worth anything, and what?Number Two--If it is worth anything, can he sell it for that? What doyou think of that idea?"
Naturally, Galusha thought it a wonderful idea. He was very enthusiasticabout it.
"Why, Miss Phipps--Miss Martha, I mean," he declared, "I really thinkwe--ah--may consider your troubles almost at an end. I shouldn't bein the least surprised if Cousin Gussie bought that stock of yourshimself."
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 orother. And, no matter whether they do or not, I am ever and ever so muchobliged to you, Mr. Bangs, for all your patience and sympathy."
And, in spite of her professed pessimism she could not help feeling abit more hopeful, even sharing a bit of her lodger's confidence. And sowhen Primmie, in tears, came again that afternoon to beg to be retainedin service, Martha consented to try to maintain the present arrangementfor a few weeks more, at least.
"Although the dear land knows I shouldn't, Primmie," she said. "It'sjust postponin' what is almost sure to come, and that isn't right foreither 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 somebetter'n I did when I come into this room! Whew! My savin' soul! ZachBloomer 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,' hesays, 'or folks'll be callin' you a faded flower.' 'Well,' says I, 'Imay be faded, but there's one old p'ison ivy around here that's freshenough to make up.' Oh, I squashed HIM all righty, but I never took nocomfort out of doin' it. I ain't took no comfort for the last two, threedays. But now--Whew!"
The letter to Cousin Gussie was written that very afternoon. Mr. Bangswrote it, with helpful suggestions, many of them, from Miss Phipps. AtMartha's suggestion the envelope was marked "Personal."
"I suppose it is foolish of me," she said, "but somehow I hate to havemy 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 gothome. 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 crowdto look at the puddle. If your cousin thinks it's necessary to tellother Boston folks, I presume he will, but WE won't tell anybody buthim."
Galusha hoped to receive an answer the following day, but none came. Nordid it come the next day, nor the next. That week passed and no replycame from Cousin Gussie. Galusha began to worry a little, but MissPhipps 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, youmustn't expect as busy a man as the head of Cabot, Bancroft and Cabotto drop everything else and run around in circles attendin' to my littletwo-for-a-cent business!"
The relative of the great man admitted that there was reason in thisline of argument, but he was impatient, nevertheless. His daily walksnow included trips to the post office. On one of those trips he caught aglimpse of Mr. Pulcifer's hemispherical countenance through its wearer'soffice window, and, on the spur of the moment's impulse, went in.
Horatio, who was smoking his customary cigar, reading a politicalcircular and humming "Beautiful Lady" all at the same time, looked upfrom the reading and greeted him boisterously.
"Well, well, well!" exclaimed Raish. "If it ain't the Perfessoragain! Welcome to amongst our midst, as the feller said. Have a chair,Perfessor. How's things in the graveyard these days? Kind of dead aroundthere, eh? Haw, haw, haw!"
He enjoyed his joke and laugh and Galusha smiled because he felt thatpoliteness 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 Ishould 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 givenhis companion's candid opinion concerning the shares of the WellmouthDevelopment Company. He was--ah--somewhat interested in them, so hesaid.
Raish leaned back in his chair and scrutinized the questioner. He shotat least five deep-drawn puffs of smoke into
the already murky air ofthe little office before replying.
"Humph!" he grunted, after the fifth puff. "Wellmouth DevelopmentCompany, 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'smoney 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 thinkI shouldn't give any further particulars at the present time. You'llexcuse me under the circumstances, Mr. Pulcifer, I'm sure. Dear me, Ihope you will."
He was forgiven. Mr. Pulcifer assured him to that effect. But Raishwas still uncertain just how to proceed. He continued to puff andscrutinize.
"What I wish to know," continued his caller, after another moment'sinterval, "is--well, in short, I should like to know your opinion ofWellmouth 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 thatI actually did wish to buy some of those shares. Would you consider it agood thing for me to do?"
Here at last was something tangible--and promising. Mr. Pulcifer's puffylids drew nearer together to hide the gleam behind them. He took thecigar 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 hisfeelings. The pause was not long, however. "Would I consider WellmouthDevelopment 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 WellmouthDevelopment. You've come to the right place. You listen."
Galusha listened, listened for a long time. The red of the Pulcifercigar tip died out and that of the Pulcifer face brightened.
"And so I say," vowed Raish, in conclusion, "with all that propertybehind it and all that future ahead of it, if Development ain't a goodinvestment, 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 quickreturns, maybe--though you can't never tell. But for a feller that'swillin' 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 afair-sized block of that stock at--well, at a little bit underneath themarket price. I believe--yes, sir, I believe I can get it for you at--atas low as eighteen dollars a share. I won't swear I can, of course, butI MAY be able to. Only you'll have to promise not to tell anybody howyou 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 thequestion. "A fair price!" he repeated. "Man alive, it's a darned LOWprice! You buy Wellmouth Development at that price and then set back andhang 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 thissuggestion. Instead of appearing thrilled, as he certainly should, hesmiled.
"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 hashad--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 shewas anxious to know what it was worth at the present time. When I tellher that you will give eighteen dollars a share for it--"
"Here!" Raish's smile and his urbanity had vanished. "Here," hedemanded, "what are you talkin' about? Who the devil said anything aboutmy givin' eighteen dollars a share?"
"Why, I understood you to say that the--ah--shares were cheap at thatfigure, that it was a very low price for them. You did say that, didn'tyou?"
Mr. Pulcifer seemed to find articulation difficult. He blew andsputtered 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 tellMartha Phipps I say I don't know what them shares of hers are worthand I don't care. You tell her I don't want to buy 'em and I don't knowanybody that does. Yes, and you tell her that if I did know anybody thatwas fool enough to bid one dollar of real money for 'em I'd sell himmine and be darn glad of the chance. And say, you tell her not to botherme no more. She took her chance same as the rest of us, and if she don'tlike it she can go--Eh? What is it?"
His caller had risen, rather suddenly for him, and was standing besidethe desk. There was a peculiar expression on his thin face.
"What's the matter?" demanded Mr. Pulcifer. Galusha's gaze was verydirect.
"I wouldn't say that," he said, quietly.
"Eh? Say what? I was just goin' to say that if Martha Phipps didn't likewaitin' 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 sortof 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, somewhatdisconcerted Horatio called after him.
"Here! Hold on, Perfessor," he hailed; "don't go off mad. I didn't meannothin'. Er--er--say, Perfessor, I don't know's there's any use in yourtellin' Martha what I said about them Development shares bein' cheapat eighteen. Of course, that was all--er--more or less of a joke, youunderstand, and--Eh? What say?"
"I said I understood, Mr. Pulcifer."
"Yes--er--yes, yes. Glad you do; I thought you would. Now I tell youwhat 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'soffice, but the recollection of it did not tend to make him more easyin his mind concerning her investment in Wellmouth Development Company.And, as another week went by and still Cousin Gussie did not reply tothe letter of inquiry, his uneasiness grew with his impatience. Anotherand more practical person would have called the Boston bankers bytelephone, but Galusha did not think of that. Martha offered nosuggestions; 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 timecomes."
Galusha devoutly wished the time would come soon. He somewhat felt agreat responsibility in the matter. This sense of responsibility causedhim to assume more and more optimism as his nervousness increased. Eachday of waiting found him covering his disappointment and anxiety with amore cheerful prophecy.
"I've been thinking, Miss Martha," he said, "that Cousin Gussie must beMOST interested in the--ah--Development Company. I really believe thathe may be considering going into it himself--ah--extensively, so tospeak. The more he delays replying to our letter, the more certain I amthat this is the case. You see, it is quite logical. Dear me, yes. If hewere 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 endof 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 neveranswers at all it'll be because he's interested to death. Well, itbegins to look as if that might be it. There, there, Mr. Bangs, Imustn't talk that way, must I? We won't give up the ship as long's thepumps work, as father used to say."
It was the first symptom of discouragement she had shown. The nextmorning Galusha crept downstairs before daylight, left a note on thedining table saying he would be back next day, and started on his longtramp to the railway station. At noon of that day he entered the Bostonoffice 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 thatMr. Augustus Cabot was not in. Pressed still further, he admitted thathe would not be in that day. No, he would not be in that week. No, hewas not in Boston. Where was he? Well, he had gone away and the date ofhis 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 wascrowded with clerks and that from the various inner offices peoplewere constantly coming and going, the question was peculiar. The youngguardian of the portal seemed to find it so. He regarded Mr. Bangswith the puzzled stare of one not certain whether he has to do with awould-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 theprivate offices, paused beside them. He looked at Galusha through hiseyeglasses, 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 assistantbookkeeper in those far-off and dismal days when he, Galusha, hadworked--or attempted to work--in that very office. That was--mercy, thatwas a great many years ago! Minor had changed very much.
They shook hands and Galusha was invited to come into Mr. Minor'sprivate office.
"Let me see," said the latter, "you are--you are--What is your businessnow? 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 thepity they felt. Then Minor asked if there was anything he could do forhis former associate. Galusha explained that he had come to town tosee his cousin, Mr. Augustus Cabot, on a business matter. Mr. Minor wassurprised, momentarily.
"That's so," he said, "he is a relative of yours, isn't he? I hadforgotten."
"Yes, yes, he is. He--ah--you see, he looks after things forme--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 hewon't come back till the doctors tell him he may. Goodness knows whenthat will be."
Cousin Gussie had, it appeared, suffered a severe nervous breakdown.The physicians had ordered immediate dropping of business and businesscares.
"He must drop everything, they said, and cut, if he wanted to head offsomething a good deal more serious. He must get out of doors and staythere; go to bed early at night--instead of early in the morning, whichhad been more in his line--and rough it generally."
"Why--yes, yes, indeed. That was almost precisely what the doctors toldme 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, youknow."
"Yes? Well, he's away out in California or Nevada or thereabouts. Hissecretary is with him--Thomas, the fellow he's had so many years; youremember 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 thatsort. He looks out for those that do come, the personal matters."
"Oh! Then perhaps my letter has been forwarded out there. That wouldexplain why I have received no answer. Yes, of course."
"Sure! Thomas will write you by and by, no doubt. But now that you arehere, why don't you see Barbour? Barbour is in charge of the chief'soutside affairs while Thomas is away. That is, he is in charge ofeverything that can be handled here. The most important stuff goes toThomas, of course. But come in and see Barbour. Perhaps he can tell youwhat you want to know."
Mr. Barbour was a bald-headed, worried-looking little man, who, in theseclusion of a rear office, sat behind a big desk. Minor introducedGalusha and Mr. Barbour extended a moist and flabby hand. Minor excusedhimself and hastened out to the really important matters of life.Galusha told Barbour the story of his letter to Cousin Gussie. He didnot tell what was in the letter, further than to say that it was aninquiry concerning a certain investment security.
Barbour shook his head.
"Everything marked 'Personal' I forward to Thomas," he said. "He'llwrite you pretty soon, although I'm pretty sure he won't trouble thechief with your question. Doctors are mighty strict about that. Nothingwe here can do to help, is there? Perhaps Mr. Minor might answer yourquestion."
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 theWest.
"Why, thank you, Mr. Barbour," he said, rising. "I--I will wait, Ithink."
"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 inthe least. Dear me, no. I am a relative of Mr. Cabot's. But that doesn'tmatter either. Good-morning, Mr. Barbour."
But it did seem to matter, after all. At any rate, Mr. Barbour for thefirst 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 youto-day, Professor. Let me see, here's the memorandum now. We look afteryour business affairs, I believe, Professor?"
Galusha nodded. He was anxious to get away. The significance of CousinGussie's illness and absence and what those might mean to Martha Phippswere beginning to dawn upon him. He wanted to get away and think. Thevery 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 tellyou is good news, at that. I presume it IS news; or have you heard ofthe Tinplate melon?"
It was quite evident that Galusha had not heard. Nor, hearing now, didthe 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 minuteMr. Barbour had requested. To Galusha it was all a tangled and mostuninteresting snarl of figures and stock quotations and references to"preferred" and "common" and "new issues" and "rights." He gatheredthat, somehow or other, he was to have more money, money which wascoming
to him because the "Tinplate crowd," whoever they were, were todo something or other that people like Barbour called "cutting a melon."
"You understand, Professor?" asked Mr. Barbour, concluding hisexplanation.
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, itmust--
"Eh?" he ejaculated, coming out of his daydream. "Oh, yes--yes, ofcourse."
"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 withit?"
"Yes.... Oh, I beg your pardon. Dear me, I am afraid I was not attendingas I should."
"I say what shall I do with the check when it comes. That was what Iintended writing you to ask. Do you wish me to reinvest the money, orshall 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. Ofcourse, Thomas usually attends to all this--your affairs, I mean--but Iam trying not to trouble him unless it is absolutely necessary. Shall Isend 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 aboutTinplate melons or checks; in fact, he forgot them both almost beforehe reached the street. But Martha Phipps--he had assured and reassuredMartha Phipps that Cousin Gussie would help her out of her financialdifficulties. And Cousin Gussie had not as yet learned of thosedifficulties, nor, in all probability, would he be permitted ever tolearn of them.
Galusha Bangs' trip back to East Wellmouth was by no means a pleasureexcursion. What should he say to Martha? How could he be truthful andyet continue to be encouraging? If he had not been so unreasonablyoptimistic it would be easier, but he had never once admitted thepossibility of failure. And--no, he would not admit it now. Somehow andin 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 thePhipps' gate. And Fate so arranged matters that it was Primmie who heardthe gate latch click and Primmie who came flying down the path to meethim.
"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 tospeak. What is the matter?"
"Matter? I cal'late we both know what's the matter, but what _I_ want toknow is if it's goin' to keep ON bein' the matter. Is it all right? Haveyou fixed it up?"
"Fixed what up? And PLEASE speak lower. Yes, and don't--ah--bounce, ifyou 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 readit?"
"Why wouldn't I read it? There 'twas laid out on the table when I camedown to poke up the fire and set the kettle on. There wasn't no name onit, so 'twan't till I'd read it clear through that I knew 'twas for MissMartha. It said: 'Have gone to Boston to see--er--what's-his-name andSomebody-else and--' Never mind, Bancroft's all I remember, anyhow. Butit said you'd gone to them folks to see about 'stock matter.' Well, thenI knew 'twas for Miss Martha. _I_ didn't have no stock matters for folksto see about. My savin' soul, no! And then you said, 'Hope to settleeverything and have good news when I come back.' I remember THAT allright.... Oh, Mr. Bangs, have you settled it? HAVE you got good news forher?"
By this time she had forgotten all about the request to speak in a lowtone. 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 expectyou till to-night. What are you standin' out there in the cold for? Comein, come in!"
And then Primmie, to make use of the expressive idiom of her friend, thedriver of the grocery cart, Primmie "spilled the beans." She turned, sawher 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'sgot the good news for you. Oh, ain't it elegant! Ain't it!"
This wild perversion of his guarded statement took Galusha completelyby surprise. He started forward aghast. And then he saw Martha Phipps'face. Upon it were written such hope and relief and joy that the wordsof expostulation and protest remained unspoken. And it was Martha whospoke 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 thechatter 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, youmustn't tell me a word until you're warm and rested. You would like togo to your room, wouldn't you? Certainly you would. Primmie will bringyou hot water as soon as it's ready. No, don't try to tell me a worduntil after you are rested and washed up."
It was a welcome suggestion, not because Galusha was so eager to "washup," but because he was eager, very eager, to be alone where no onecould ask more embarrassing questions. Yet the last thing he saw as heclosed 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? Ifhe told the exact truth--the whole truth--
But there, what was the whole truth? After all, he did not KNOW thatnothing would come of his letter to Cousin Gussie. Something mightcome of it. Yes, even something very good might come. If Cousin Gussiehimself never saw the letter, Thomas, the secretary, would see it andvery likely he would write encouragingly. He might--it was quitelikely that he would--give the names of other Boston financiers to whomWellmouth Development might be of interest. In this case, or eventhe probability of such a case, he, Galusha, would certainly not bejustified in making his story too discouraging.
When, at last, he did descend to the sitting room, where Miss Phipps wasawaiting him, the tale he told her bore very little resemblance to thehopeless, despairful narrative he had, while on the way down in thetrain, considered inevitable and the telling of which he had so dreaded.In fact, when it was finished Martha's expression had changed butlittle. 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 youthat he felt sure that your cousin, or his other secretary--how manysecretaries does one man have to have, for mercy sakes?--would attend tothe Development thing and it would be all right if we would just wait alittle longer? Was that it?"
Galusha, who, in his intense desire not to be discouraging, had notuntil now realized how far he had gone in the other direction, blinkedand 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 ofthe very few he had ever told. It was a very white lie and not told withdeliberation or malice aforethought. But, as so often happens, it wasdestined to be the father of a pest
ilential pack which were neitherwhite nor unintentional.
Galusha the Magnificent Page 10
