Galusha the Magnificent Part 42

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 embarra.s.sing 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 a.s.sumed 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 sa.s.sy 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 Inst.i.tute, 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, Ma.s.s.