Hills of the Shatemuc Part 149

And Miss Haye withdrew.

"Ain't this a start now?" said Clam after she had rubbed her knives in silence for several minutes. "Didn't I tell you so?"

"Tell what?" said Karen.

"Why! that Miss 'Lizabeth couldn't keep quiet more'n long enough to get her s.p.u.n.k up. What in the name of variety is she at work at now!"

"What's the matter with you?" grumbled Karen.

"Why I tell you," said Clam facing round, "them two love each other like pison!"

"That's a queer way to love," said Karen.

"They hate each other then -- do you understand me? they hate so, one wouldn't thaw a piece of ice off the other's head if it was freezin' her!"

"Maybe 'tain't jus' so," said Karen.

"What do you know about it!" said Clam contemptuously.

"What do you, perhaps?" suggested Karen.

"I know _my_ young lady," said Clam rubbing her knives, "and I know t'other one. There ain't but one person in _this_ world that can make Miss 'Lizabeth keep her fire down -- but she does have an idee of mindin' him."

"Who's that?" said Karen.

"Somebody you don't know, I guess," said Clam.

"If 'twas all true, she wouldn't want her here," said Karen.

"It's all true," said Clam, -- "'cept the last. _You_ don't know nothin', Karen. We'll see what a time there'll be when she comes. Eat in here! --"

"She's eat in here afore now -- and I guess she can again,"

said old Karen, in a tone of voice which spoke her by no means so discomposed as Clam's words would seem to justify.

Perhaps Elizabeth herself had a thought or two on the close quarters which would be the infallible result of Mrs. Haye's seizure of the old 'keeping-room.'

The twenty-seventh, spite of Karen's understanding of the weather, was a rainy day. The twenty-eighth, Karen and Anderese went to Pimpernel on their furniture hunting, and came back at night with the articles, selected somewhat in accordance with a limited experience of the usual contents of a cabinet-maker's warehouse. The very next day, Elizabeth set Anderese to foisting out and putting together her little old boat, the Merry-go-round. Putting together, literally; she was dropping to pieces from the effects of years and confinement.

Anderese was hardly equal to the business; Elizabeth sent for better help from Mountain Spring, and watched rather eagerly the restoring of her favourite to strength and beauty. Watched and pressed the work, as if she was in a hurry. But after tightening and caulking, the boat must be repainted. Elizabeth watched the doing of that; and bargained for a pair of light oars with her friend the workman. He was an old, respectable- looking man, of no particular calling, that appeared.

"Where was this here boat built?" he inquired one day as he was at work and Elizabeth looking on.

"It was built in Mannahatta."

"A good while ago, likely?"

"Yes, it was."

"Did this here belong to old Squire Landholm?"

"No."

"'Twa'n't fetched here lately, I guess, was it?"

"No -- it has lain here a long time."

"Who _did_ it belong to, then?"

"It belonged to me."

"Is it your'n now?" said the man looking up at her.

"No," said Elizabeth colouring, -- "it is not; but it belongs to a friend of mine."

"Was you ever in these parts before?"

"Some time ago."

"Then you knew the old family, likely?"

"Yes, I did."

"There was fine stuff in them Landholms," said the old man, perhaps supplied with the figure by the timber he was nailing, -- "real what I call good stuff -- parents and children. There was a great deal of good in all of 'em; only the boys took notions they wouldn't be nothin' but ministers or lawyers or some sort o' people that wears black coats and don't have to roll up their trowsers for nothin'. They were clever lads, too. I don't mean to say nothin' agin 'em."

"Do you know how they're gettin' on?" he asked after a pause on his part and on Elizabeth's.

"I believe Asahel is with his father, -- gone West."

"Ay, ay; but I mean the others -- them two that went to College. I ha'n't seen Rufus for a great spell -- I went down and fetched up Winthrop when his mother died."

"Will you have paint enough to finish that gunwale?"

"Guess so," said the old man looking into his paint-pot.

"There's more oil in the bottle. What be them two doing now?

Winthrop's a lawyer, ain't he?"

"Yes."

"Well, he's made a smart one, ha'n't he? -- ain't he about as smart as any one they've got in Mannahatta?"

"I'm not a judge," said Elizabeth, who could not quite keep her countenance. "I dare say he is."

"He was my favourite, always, Winthrop was, -- the Governor, as they called him. Well -- I'd vote for him if he was sot up for that office -- or any other office -- if they'd do it while I'm above ground. Where is he now? -- in Mannahatta?"

"Yes."

"Where's t'other one -- the oldest -- Rufus -- where's he?"

"I don't know where he is. How soon will this do to be put in the water, Mr. Underhill?"