Galusha the Magnificent Part 18

"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'-gla.s.s."

Primmie s.n.a.t.c.hed 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 sc.r.a.pe 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 t.i.ttered 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 embarra.s.sed.

"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.