CHAPTER XII
Miss Phipps had prophesied that the cares attending the possession ofwealth might interfere with her sleep that night. Concerning his ownslumbers Galusha made no prophecy, but the said slumbers were brokenand scanty, nevertheless. Martha's happiness, her relief, and the kindthings she had said to him, all these were pleasant to reflect upon andto remember. Not so pleasant was the thought of the deception he hadpracticed. Of course, he had deceived for a good purpose and certainlywith no idea of personal gain, quite the contrary. But he had beendeceitful--and to Martha Phipps, of all people. What would she say ifshe ever found it out? He reflected upon the amazing number of--ah--fibshe had told her, and the question what would she say if she ever learnedof these was even more terrifying in its possibilities. She must notlearn of them, she must never, never know that it was his own moneywhich he had brought from Boston, that he, and no one else, had boughtthat stock of hers.
Here he sat up in bed, having suddenly remembered the certificate fortwo hundred and fifty shares of Wellmouth Development Company stockwhich she had handed him when he started for Boston. He had foldedit lengthwise and crosswise and had put it in his pocket--and had notthought 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, chillsimmediately ran up and down other portions of his anatomy. He did notmind those, however, but finding the matches, lighted the lamp andbegan pawing over his garments, those which he had worn upon his Bostonpilgrimage.
The certificate was not in the coat pocket. Galusha gasped. Had hedropped 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, andMinor and Barbour and, eventually, Cousin Gussie would learn that he....
Here he remembered that Martha had urged him not to put it in his coatpocket 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. Supposehe had that very evening dropped it in the house here at home, in thesitting room, or the dining room. Suppose Primmie should find it, orMiss Phipps herself. Then she would KNOW that he had deceived her--andlied to her--
And then he remembered that, instead of putting the certificate in hispocketbook, he had found the latter too small for the purpose, and hadput the document in the inside pocket of his waistcoat. And in thatwaistcoat 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 anddeception--reposing safely in the vaults of a Boston bank, where he hadintended putting it, it was here, in the house, in the house of MissMartha Phipps, who might find it at any time.
He tried various hiding places, the drawers of his bureau, thetable drawer, under the straw matting in the corner, but none seemedsatisfactorily secure. Under the matting was, at first thought, ideal,but, after secreting it there and getting into bed, he remembered thatMartha had declared his room needed new matting and, if ever shecould afford that cost, new matting it should have. Having come intopossession of five thousand dollars, she might feel that she could nowafford it. He climbed, shivering, out of bed again, resurrected thecertificate and hid it under his pillow, an orthodox but safe hidingplace for that night only. The next morning he wrapped it in a summerundergarment and placed the said garment at the bottom of a pile ofsimilar intimacies in his bureau drawer. And each night of the followingweek, before retiring, he dug it out to make sure of its safety.
The day after her boarder's return from Boston, Martha went over toWellmouth Centre. The bank there had charge of her account, such as itwas, and she wished to have it take charge of the, to her, huge sum ofreal money which Mr. Bangs had brought. She told the cashier thatshe was desirous of speaking with him on a matter of business, and heinvited her into his little room at the end of the counter. There shetook from her "Boston bag" a brown paper parcel and, unwrapping thebrown paper, disclosed the five thousand dollars.
Cashiers of small town banks know the true financial strength andweakness of dwellers in those towns, just as the doctors know theirphysical ones. Mr. Edgar Thacher, which was the cashier's name in thisinstance, knew how much of an estate Cap'n Jim Phipps had left hisdaughter and how that estate was divided as to investments. So he wassurprised when Martha revealed the money.
"Good land, Martha!" he exclaimed. "What's happened? Haven't gone intothe counterfeiting trade, have you?"
Martha smilingly shook her head. "No, Edgar," she said. "It's too latein 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'treally 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? Idon't know how long it'll stay there--the whole of it not very long, I'mafraid--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, aslong as you say you haven't been counterfeiting, I wish you would giveme your receipt for making money. Anybody that can make five thousand inone 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 busyusin' it, I tell you. I just sold somethin' I owned, that's all, and gota good deal better price than I ever expected to. In fact, I had aboutgiven 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 SHOULDsee your way clear to pay seven or eight per cent interest instead offour, or whatever you do pay, don't bother to write and ask me if I'lltake it, because you'll only be wastin' your time.... Eh? Why, goodgracious, Jethro! What are you doin' over here?"
The captain's big frame blocked the doorway of the cashier's office. Hehad opened that door without knocking, because it was his habit toopen doors that way. Captain Jethro Hallett's position as keeper ofthe Gould's Bluffs light was not an exalted or highly paid one, but hisinfluence in Wellmouth and its vicinity was considerable, nevertheless.He was accounted a man of means, he had always been--more especially inthe years before his wife's death and the break in health which followedit--a person of shrewd business ability and keenness in a trade, andeven now, when some of the townsfolk grinned behind his back andtold stories of his spiritualistic obsessions, they were polite anddeferential to his face. As a matter of fact, it would have beenextremely impolitic to be otherwise than deferential to him. CaptainJeth 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 cartbrought 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 fewminutes, 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 intothe public room. Captain Jethro, whose eyes had caught sight of thebills, leaned forward and peered through the little grating above Mr.Thacher's desk. He saw the cashier and Martha standing by the teller'swindow. The former said something and handed the teller the bank bookand the roll of bills. A moment later the teller, having counted themoney 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, MissPhipps. Thank you."
When, having escorted the lady to the door, Thacher came back to hisprivate office, he found the light keeper sitting in the armchairreserved 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 checksI got by mail," he said. "Had plenty of time so I thought I'd drop inand 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, Iguess likely. _I_ ain't depositin' any five thousand dollars. 'Twas fivethousand she just deposited, wasn't it?"
The cashier was rather annoyed. He did not answer at once. His visitorrepeated 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 bankbook. 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 donethat, you say?"
"No. At least, if she has she didn't tell me of it. How are things overat the lighthouse?"
"All right enough. I don't hardly believe she could raise more'n threethousand on a mortgage, anyhow.... Humph! Five thousand is a sight ofmoney, too.... Didn't she tell you nothin' about how she got it?"
Thacher's annoyance increased. The ordinary caller displaying suchpersistent curiosity would have been dismissed unceremoniously; butJethro Hallett was not to be dismissed that way. The captain ownedstock in the bank and, before his illness, his name had been seriouslyconsidered 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 ownedand 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 gotthe five thousand. Oh, yes, she did say that it was a bigger pricethan she ever expected to get and that there was a time when she neverexpected 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 donethat. And what else.... Humph!..."
He pulled at his beard in silence for a moment. The teller, a briskyoung man, possessed of a profound love of mischief and a correspondinglack 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 Holinesschapel. Is it so?"
Jethro came out of his reverie. His deep-set eyes flashed and his bigfist pounded the office table. No, it was not so. It was a lie. Whosaid it? Who was responsible for starting such sacrilegious, outrageousyarns? Marietta Hoag was a woman called and chosen to receive andgive out revelations from on high. The Holiness crowd was a crew ofgood-for-nothin', hollerin' hard-shells. By the everlastin'--
He blew out of the office and out of the bank, rumbling and spittingfire like a volcano. The teller and the cashier watched him go. Then theformer said:
"That's the way to get rid of him, Mr. Thacher. He'll set 'round andtalk you to death if you give him half a chance. When you want him togo, tell him somebody at the other end of the town has been runningdown the Spiritualists. He'll be so anxious to get there and heave 'emoverboard 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 lightkeeper did not entirely forget what he and the cashier said concerningMartha Phipps' surprising bank deposit. And the next morning, as Marthawas walking up the lane from the village, where she had been on asupply-purchasing excursion, she heard heavy footsteps and, turning,saw her neighbor tramping toward her, his massive figure rolling, as italways did when in motion, from side to side like a ship in a seaway.
"Why, hello, Jethro!" she exclaimed. Captain Jethro merely nodded. Hisfirst remark was a question, and very much to the point.
"Look here, Martha," he demanded. "Have you sold that Development stockof yours?"
Martha stared at him. For a moment she was inclined to believe in thetruth of the light keeper's "spirit revelations."
"Why--why, Jethro!" she gasped. The captain, gazing at her keenlybeneath his shaggy brows, seemed to find his answer in her face.
"Humph!" he observed. "You have sold it, ain't you? Well, by theeverlastin'!"
"Why--why, Jethro! What are you talkin' about?"
"About that two hundred and fifty shares of Wellmouth Development ofyours. You've sold it, ain't you, Martha? And you must have got par forit, too. Did the Trumet Trust Company folks buy it?"
But Miss Phipps was recovering from her surprise. She waited a momentbefore replying and, when she did reply, her tone was as crisp, if notas domineering, as her interrogator's.
"See here, Jethro," she said; "you're takin' a good many things forgranted, aren't you?"
"No, I don't cal'late I am. I know you've sold somethin' and got fivethousand 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 saidyou'd sold somethin' you owned and got a good price when you didn't knowas you'd ever get a cent. Now, you ain't sold your place because I'dknow if you had, and it ain't worth five thousand, anyway. The otherstocks and bonds you've got ain't--"
But Martha interrupted.
"Jethro," she said, sharply, "I just said that you were takin' a goodmany things for granted. You are. One of 'em is that you can talk tome as if I was Zach Bloomer or a fo'masthand on your old schooner. I'mneither of those and I don't care to be talked to in that way. Anotheris 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 thebarn or the cat, as far as that goes, but if I have or haven't it ismy affair. And I think you'd better understand that before we talk anymore."
She turned and walked on again. Captain Jethro's eyes flashed. It hadbeen some time since any one had addressed him in that manner. However,women were women and business was business, and the captain was justthen too intent upon the latter to permit the whims of the former tointerfere. He swallowed his temper and strode after his neighbor.
"Martha," he said, complainingly, "I don't see as you've got any call totalk 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 ifI 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 beenher father's close friend, and, no doubt, he meant to be hers. And hewas Lulie's father, and not well, not quite his old self mentally orphysically. Perhaps she should make allowances.
"Well, all right, Cap'n Jeth," she said. "It wasn't what you said somuch as it was how you said it. Now will you tell me why you're sodreadfully anxious to know how I got that five thousand dollars Ideposited over to the bank yesterday?"
The light keeper pulled at his beard; the latter was so thick as tomake a handful, even for one of his hands. "Well," he said, somewhatapologetically, "you see, Martha, it's like this: IF you sold themDevelopment shares of yours--and I swan I can't think of anything elseyou own that would sell for just that money--IF you sold 'em, I say, I'dlike to know how you done it. I've got four hundred shares of that stockI'd like to sell fust-
rate--fust-rate I would."
She had not entirely forgiven him for his intrusion in her affairs andhis 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 heardyou say a good many times that you had promises from--well, from thespirits that you were goin' to sell your Development stock and ata 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 pityconcerning 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 ofit?"
"Why, just this, Martha: If there's anything goin' on on the inside ofthe 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 tellyou. 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 shesaid and he reluctantly recognized the fact.
"Humph! Well, all right, Martha," he growled. "But--but will you do thismuch for me? Will you ask these folks--whoever 'twas bought your twohundred and fifty--if they don't want my four hundred? If they're reallybuyin', I shouldn't be surprised if they would want it. If they boughtit just as a favor to you, and are goin' to hang on and wait--why--whythen, maybe they'd do a favor to a friend of yours and your father'safore you. Maybe they will, you can't tell. And you can tell 'em I'vehad 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 promisethat?"
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 downhere will only be what them up aloft want us to do. Don't you forgetthat."
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 todo. I'll be back pretty soon."
Her father watched her as she walked away. The thought crossed his mindthat 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 felttired. Somehow he didn't want to talk any more. Even as important atopic as Nelson Howard did not arouse his interest.
"Oh, nothin', nothin'," he assured. "Cal'late maybe I'll lay down andturn in a little spell afore dinner. Is Zach on deck?"
"Yes, he is out in the kitchen, or was a minute ago. Primmie was overon 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 diningroom and he stretched himself upon it. The head of the couch was nearthe door leading to the kitchen. That door was closed, but from behindit sounded voices, voices which were audible and distinct. A disputeseemed to be in progress between Mr. Bloomer and Miss Cash and, althoughZacheus continued to grumble on in an even key, Primmie's tone becamehigher and shriller with each retort.
"I tell you 'tis so, Zach Bloomer.... Well, maybe 'twan't a hundred andfifty thousand, but I bet you 'twas more money than you ever see in YOURlife. So now!"
The assistant light keeper was heard to cough. Primmie seemed to discerna hint of skepticism even in the cough.
"Oh, you can set there and keep on turnin' up your nose and--andcoughin'," she declared, "but--"
Zacheus interrupted to say that he hardly ever turned up his nose whenhe 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 seemore money at one time and in one--er--er junk, as you might say, thanever 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 morethan 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 growson the bushes, like huckleberries, I presume likely. Martha Phipps beenover there berryin', has she?"
"No, she ain't. Besides, I never said Miss Martha brought the money intothe house. All's I said was that 'twas in there and I see it with my owneyes."
"Sho! With your own eyes, eh? Well, well! What do you cal'late 'twouldhave 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 thehouse?"
"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 wordabout 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? Whydidn't you eat another slice? Then you'd have dreamed about a mackerelkeg 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 preparatoryto shouting an order for silence. But Primmie's next speech caught hisattention and the order was not given.
"Dreamed!" retorted the indignant young woman. "Are you tryin' to tellme I only dreamed about that money, Zacheus Bloomer? Huh! My Lord ofIsrul! If you'd seen that great big piled-up heap of bills layin' rightthere on the table in our settin' room where Mr. Bangs put 'em, I guessyou'd have said 'dreams' and more, too. Ten dollar bills there was andtwenties and--and thirties and forties, for all I know."
"That so? Right where Mr. Bangs put 'em, eh? Now I KNOW you wasdreamin', Pansy Blossom. That little dried-up Bangs man ain't worthmore'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 afight, by the looks of him. Look at the Bangs man's clothes, and--andhis hat--and--why, Godfreys mighty, he can't afford to get his hair cutoftener than once in three months! Anyhow, he don't. And you stand thereand 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 howmuch he's worth? He may look kind of--of ratty, but all the same he'sgot rich relations. Why, one of his relations is head of the biggestbroke--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 couchheard it all. He remained on that couch until Miss Cash, at the backdoor of the kitchen, delivered her triumphant farewell.
"So there now, Zach Bloomer," she said, "I guess you believe now Ididn't dream it. And you needn't ask any more questions because Isha'n't tell you a single word. I promised Miss Martha I wouldn't nevertell and I'm goin' to keep my promise."
That evening Martha approached her lodger on the subject of thepossibility of selling the light keeper's Development holdings forhim. To say the
least, she received no encouragement. Galusha was quiteemphatic in his expression of disbelief in that possibility.
"Oh, dear me, no, Miss Martha," he stammered. "I--ah--I feel quitesure it would be unwise to--ah--attempt such a thing. You see--ah--yousee--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 goodfriend of father's and mine and I thought if Cabot, Bancroft and Cabotreally were buyin' the stock perhaps they might like to buy his. But Ican see why you wouldn't want to trouble Mr. Cabot again just now. I'msorry 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 mentionthe subject again, he recovered a portion of his equilibrium. And duringthe following week he gradually gained more and more confidence. Thetelltale certificate hidden in his bureau drawer was, of course, adrawback to his peace of mind, and the recollection of his recentoutbreak of prevarication and deception was always a weight upon hisconscience. But, to offset these, there was a changed air about thePhipps' home and its inmates which was so very gratifying that, if itdid not deaden that conscience, it, at least, administered to it aneffective dose of soothing syrup.
Primmie wept no more into the dishwater nor sighed despairingly whenserving breakfast. She sang now and, although an unprejudiced personmight not have found the change an unmixed delight, Galusha did. MissPhipps sang, too, occasionally, not with the camp-meeting exuberance ofher maid, but with the cheery hum of the busy bee. She was happy; shesaid so and looked so, and, in spite of his guilty knowledge of thedeceit upon which that happiness was founded, her lodger was happybecause she was.
"Do you know," he observed, on Saturday morning of that week, as, coatedand 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, andit really is quite extraordinary."
Martha was sitting in the rocker by the window, the morning sunshinestreaming in through the leaves and blossoms of the potted plants on thebrackets dappling her hair and cheek with cheery splashes of light andshade. She was consulting the pages of her cookbook, as a preliminary topreparing a special dessert for Sunday's dinner, and was humming as shedid so.
She looked up when he spoke.
"What is extraordinary?" she asked. "Your thinkin', do you mean? I don'tsee anything very extraordinary about that. You're thinkin' most of thetime, 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 Iwas in Washington--at the Institute, you know--it used to annoyme--ah--extremely, to have any one sing or whistle in my vicinity.Really, it did. I sometimes spoke very sharply--ah--irritably to anyone 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'tthat extraordinary!"
Martha laughed aloud. "Why, yes," she declared; "I think it is. Anybodylikin' to hear me sing is about as extraordinary as anything that everwas, I guess. Mr. Bangs, you're awfully funny."
Galusha nodded. "Yes," he said, "I am sure I must be. I think if I wereany one else I should laugh at myself a great deal. I mean--ah--I meanin that case I should laugh, not at myself, but at me. Good gracious, Ihaven'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 alovely forenoon I almost wish I was goin' with you."
Galusha beamed. "Why--why, so do I!" he exclaimed, in delightedsurprise. "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, asthe books say; how will that do?"
Whether or not she was with him in spirit, she was very much in herlodger's thoughts as he walked down the path to the gate. It was such abeautiful forenoon, with the first promise of spring in the air, that,instead of starting toward the village, as was his usual custom, heturned in the other direction and strolled toward the lighthouse. Thesea view from the cliff edge should be magnificent on a morning likethis.
But it was not of the view, or the beauty of the morning, that hethought 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 therocking-chair, with the background of old-fashioned plants and blossoms,and the morning sunshine illumining her pleasant, comely face. He couldvisualize every feature of that face, which fact was extremely odd, forit had been many years since he had noticed a female face sufficientlyfor that face to impress itself upon his memory. Years and years beforeGalusha Bangs had been forced to the conclusion that the interest ofattractive feminity was not for him and he had accepted the inevitableand never permitted his own interest to stray in that direction. Afew feminine faces he could, of course, recall; the face of his AuntClarissa, for instance, and--dear me, yes! that of the pestiferous Mrs.Worth Buckley, his--ah--not his "old man of the sea" exactly, but hisequally troublesome, middle-aged woman of the mountains. Mrs. Buckleyhad not attracted his notice, she had seized it, served a subpoena uponit, 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 MarthaPhipps. Her eyes now--her eyes were--ah--um--they were blue; no, theywere 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 theylooked at one, and--ah--smiled, so to speak. Odd, because he had neverbefore 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 ofcheerful, comfortable smile--yes, and--ah--attractive--ah--inviting,as one might say; a homelike smile; that was the word hewanted--"homelike." It had been a long, long time since he had had ahome. As a matter of fact, he had not cared to have one. A tent in Egyptor Syria, furnished with a mummy or two, and with a few neighborly ruinsnext door--this had been his idea of comfort. It was his idea still, butnevertheless--
And then he became aware that from somewhere, apparently from theheavens 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 hehad walked almost to the fence surrounding the light keeper's home andwould have collided with that fence in another stride or two, lookedaround, down, and finally up--to see Captain Jethro leaning over theiron 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 beenbellerin' like the foghorn for five minutes. A little more of it andI'd have run out of steam or bust a b'iler, one or t'other. Ain't beenstruck deef, have you, Mr. Bangs?"
"No--ah--no, I trust not. I was--ah--thinking, I presume, and I did nothear you. I'm very sorry."
"That's all right. Glad you was only thinkin' and no worse. I didn'tknow but you'd been struck by walkin' paralysis or somethin'. Say,"he leaned further over the rail and lowered his voice. "Say," he saidagain, "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 thespiral stair to the little room at the top. The great lantern, with itsglittering facets and lenses filled that room almost entirely, and thelight keeper's great form filled it still more. There was scarcely spacefor 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 whileto keep it ship
shape. Say," he added, opening the door which led to thebalcony, "look out yonder. Worth lookin' at, ain't it?"
It was. The morning was dry and clear, a brisk wind from the west, andnot a cloud. The lighthouse, built as it was upon the knoll at the edgeof the bluff, seemed to be vastly higher than it actually was, and totower far above all else until the view from its top was almost likethat from an aeroplane. The horizon swept clear and unbroken for threequarters of a circle, two of those quarters the sharp blue rim of theocean meeting the sky. The white wave-crests leaped and twinkled anddanced for miles and miles. Far below on the yellow sand of the beach,the advancing and retreating breakers embroidered lacy patterns whichchanged constantly.
"Worth looking at, ain't it?" repeated the captain.
Galusha nodded. "Indeed it is," he said, with emphasis. Yet it surprisedhim slightly to find the gruff old light keeper enthusiastic concerninga scene which must be so very much a matter of course to him.
"The Almighty done a good job when He built that," observed CaptainJethro, waving his hand toward the Atlantic. "Don't never get tiredof lookin' at salt water, I don't, and yet I've been in it or on it oraround 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 liketo 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 thanwe 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 aloneup here, particular of a foggy day, as if I was consider'ble nigherto them--to HER, especial--than when I'm on the ground. Think there'sanything 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 talkabout. Some spiritualistic subject, very likely; the conversation seemedto be tending that way. Jethro appeared to have forgotten altogetherthe seance and his, Galusha's, assumption of the character of the small,dark "evil influence." It looked very much as if that assumption--so faras it entailed the permanent shifting of prejudice from Nelson Howard tohimself--had been effort wasted.
Captain Jeth pulled at his beard and seemed to be dreaming. Galushapitied the old fanatic as he stood there, massive, rugged, brows drawntogether, sturdy legs apart as if set to meet the roll of a ship atsea--a strong figure, yet in a way the figure of a wistful, dreamingchild, helpless--
"Mr. Bangs," said the light keeper, "don't you cal'late, if you set outto, you could sell my four hundred Wellmouth Development same as yousold Martha's two hundred and fifty?"
Galusha would have sat down, if there had been anything except the floorto sit down on. As a matter of fact, even that consideration might nothave prevented his sitting; his knees bent suddenly and he was on hisway to the floor, but his shoulders struck the wall behind him andfurnished the support he so very much needed. So far as speech wasconcerned, that was out of the question. His mouth opened and shut, butnothing audible issued therefrom. Mr. Bangs, at that moment, gave a verygood 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 uponhis visitor. His big fist moved downward from his chin to the tip of hisbeard, only to rise and take a new hold at the chin again. His gaze wasfixed upon the rolling sea outside.
"You see," he went on, "I kind of figger it out this way: If them folkswho bought Martha's stock are cal'latin' to buy up Development they'llwant more'n two hundred and fifty. I'll sell 'em mine at a reasonablefigger; sha'n't ask much over what I paid for it, I sha'n't. If theyain't buyin' for anything 'special, but just 'cause they think it's agood thing to keep--well, then--"
Galusha interrupted. The faculty of framing words and uttering them wasreturning 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, nornothin'. But, of course, when I found out 'twas you who went toBoston and fetched home the five thousand dollars I didn't need to betold--much. Now, Mr. Bangs, I wish you'd see if you can't sell my fourhundred shares for me. It'll be consider'ble of a favor if you will. Yousee, them shares--"
But Galusha did not wait for him to finish. His alarmed protests fairlytumbled over each other.
"Why--why, Captain Hallett," he cried, "really I--I... ah... What youask is quite impossible. Oh, very much so--ah--very. You see... Well,really, I... Captain Hallett, this entire matter was supposed to be asecret, 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 upinto 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 thatbusiness 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 thatfour hundred of mine, same as you done with Martha's. Just as a favorI'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 congratulatinghimself that that torment was over, then to find he had escaped merelyinto 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 Ican do nothing with your shares, Captain Hallett. It--it--such a thingwould be absolutely impossible. I'm sorry."
Captain Jethro's calm was unshaken. "We-ll," he said, slowly, "I ain'taltogether surprised. Course I could see that maybe you wouldn't want togo cruisin' up to them folks again, 'specially they bein' relations. Idon'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, ofcourse. I don't know any of 'em personal, but I cal'lated maybe you'dbe willin' to give me a note, a letter introducin' me, you see. ThenI could tell 'em why I come, and how I wanted to talk with 'em aboutsellin' some more of the same stock they sold for you. That would be allright, wouldn't it, Mr. Bangs?"
Galusha did not answer. The absolute hopelessness of the situation wasbeginning to force itself upon his understanding. Whether or not he gavethe letter of introduction, the light keeper would go to Cabot, Bancroftand Cabot--oh, how on earth did he ever learn that THEY had anythingto do with it?--and begin talkin' about Martha Phipps' stock; and theywould deny knowing anything of it; and then the captain would persist,giving details; and Barbour and Minor and the rest would guess the truthand probably write Thomas, who would eventually tell Cousin Gussie; andthe light keeper would return home and tell Martha, and she would learnthat 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 wasstanding in exactly the same attitude, feet apart, hand to beard, sadeyes gazing out to sea; just as he had stood when Galusha's sympathy hadgone out to him as a "helpless, dreaming child."
"What are you laughin' at?" asked Captain Jeth, switching his gaze fromold 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 thatit seemed rather too bad to waste pity in quarters where it wasnot--ah--needed, when there was such a pressing demand, as one mightsay, at home."
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