Galusha the Magnificent Part 13

"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 ash.o.r.e. 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 a.s.sistant 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."