Shavings Part 13

His wife did not contradict his a.s.sertion, but she made one of her own.

"George," she commanded majestically, "can't you see the man has been drinking. Probably he doesn't own the place at all. Don't waste another moment on him. We will come back later, when the real owner is in. Come!"

George came and they both went. Mr. Winslow wiped his perspiring forehead on a piece of wrapping paper and sat down upon a box to recover. Recovery, however, was by no means rapid or complete.

They had gone, but they were coming back again; and what should he say to them then? Very likely Captain Sam, who had sent them in the first place, would return with them. And Captain Sam knew that the key was not really lost. Jed's satisfaction in the fact that he had escaped tenantless so far was nullified by the fear that his freedom was but temporary.

He cooked his dinner, but ate little. After washing the dishes he crossed the road to the telephone and telegraph office and called up the Orham Bank. He meant to get Captain Hunniwell on the wire, tell him that the house hunters had paid him a visit, that he did not like them, and beg the captain to call them off the scent. But Captain Sam had motored to Ostable to attend a preliminary session of the Exemption Board. Jed sauntered gloomily back to the shop.

When he opened the door and entered he was greeted by a familiar voice, which said:

"Here he is, Mamma. Good afternoon, Mr. Winslow."

Jed started, turned, and found Miss Barbara Armstrong beaming up at him. The young lady's attire and general appearance were in marked contrast to those of the previous evening. Petunia also was in calling costume; save for the trifling lack of one eye and a chip from the end of her nose, she would have been an ornament to doll society anywhere.

"This is my mamma," announced Barbara. "She's come to see you."

"How do you do, Mr. Winslow?" said Mrs. Armstrong.

Jed looked up to find her standing beside him, her hand extended.

Beside a general impression that she was young and that her gown and hat and shoes were white, he was at that moment too greatly embarra.s.sed to notice much concerning her appearance. Probably he did not notice even this until later. However, he took her hand, moved it up and down, dropped it again and said: "I--I'm pleased to meet you, ma'am."

She smiled. "And I am very glad to meet you," she said. "It was very kind of you to bring my little girl home last night and she and I have come to thank you for doing it."

Jed was more embarra.s.sed than ever.

"Sho, sho!" he protested; "'twasn't anything."

"Oh, yes, it was; it was a great deal. I was getting very worried, almost frightened. She had been gone ever since luncheon--dinner, I mean--and I had no idea where. She's a pretty good little girl, generally speaking," drawing the child close and smiling down upon her, "but sometimes she is heedless and forgets. Yesterday she forgot, didn't you, dear?"

Barbara shook her head.

"I didn't forget," she said. "I mean I only forgot a little.

Petunia forgot almost EVERYTHING. I forgot and went as far as the bridge, but she forgot all the way to the clam field."

Jed rubbed his chin.

"The which field?" he drawled.

"The clam field. The place where Mrs. Smalley's fish man unplants the clams she makes the chowder of. He does it with a sort of hoe thing and puts them in a pail. He was doing it yesterday; I saw him."

Jed's eyes twinkled at the word "unplants," but another thought occurred to him.

"You wasn't out on those clam flats alone, was you?" he asked, addressing Barbara.

She nodded. "Petunia and I went all alone," she said. "It was kind of wet so we took off our shoes and stockings and paddled.

I--I don't know's I remembered to tell you that part, Mamma," she added, hastily. "I--I guess it must have slipped my mind."

But Mrs. Armstrong was watching Jed's face.

"Was there any danger?" she asked, quickly.

Jed hesitated before answering. "Why," he drawled, "I--I don't know as there was, but--well, the tide comes in kind of slow off ON the flats, but it's liable to fill up the channels between them and the beach some faster. Course if you know the wadin' places it's all right, but if you don't it's--well, it's sort of uncomfortable, that's all."

The lady's cheeks paled a bit, but she did not exclaim, nor as Jed would have said "make a fuss." She said, simply, "Thank you, I will remember," and that was the only reference she made to the subject of the "clam field."

Miss Barbara, to whom the events of dead yesterdays were of no particular concern compared to those of the vital and living to- day, was rummaging among the stock.

"Mamma," she cried, excitedly, "here is a whale fish like the one I was going to buy for Captain Hedge. Come and see it."

Mrs. Armstrong came and was much interested. She asked Jed questions concerning the "whale fish" and others of his creations.

At first his replies were brief and monosyllabic, but gradually they became more lengthy, until, without being aware of it, he was carrying on his share of a real conversation. Of course, he hesitated and paused and drawled, but he always did that, even when talking with Captain Sam Hunniwell.

He took down and exhibited his wares one by one. Barbara asked numberless questions concerning each and chattered like a red squirrel. Her mother showed such a genuine interest in his work and was so pleasant and quiet and friendly, was, in short, such a marked contrast to Mrs. George Powless, that he found himself actually beginning to enjoy the visit. Usually he was glad when summer folks finished their looking and buying and went away; but now, when Mrs. Armstrong glanced at the clock on the shelf, he was secretly glad that that clock had not gone for over four months and had providentially stopped going at a quarter after three.

He took them into the inner shop, his workroom, and showed them the band saw and the lathe and the rest of his manufacturing outfit.

Barbara asked if he lived there all alone and he said he did.

"I live out there," he explained, pointing toward the shop extension. "Got a sittin'-room and a kitchen out there, and a little upstairs, where I sleep."

Mrs. Armstrong seemed surprised. "Why!" she exclaimed, "I thought you lived in that dear little old house next door here. I was told that you owned it."

Jed nodded. "Yes, ma'am," he said, "I do own it, but I don't live in it. I used to live there, but I ain't for quite a spell now."

"I don't see how you could bear to give it up. It looks so quaint and homey, and if the inside is as delightful as the outside it must be quite wonderful. And the view is the best in town, isn't it?"

Jed was pleased. "Why, yes, ma'am, 'tis pretty good," he admitted.

"Anyhow, most folks seem to cal'late 'tis. Wouldn't you like to come out and look at it?"

Barbara clapped her hands. "Oh, yes, Mamma, do!" she cried.

Her mother hesitated. "I don't know that we ought to trouble Mr.

Winslow," she said. "He is busy, you know."

Jed protested. "It won't be a mite of trouble," he declared.

"Besides, it ain't healthy to work too long at a stretch. That is," he drawled, "folks say 'tain't, so I never take the risk."

Mrs. Armstrong smiled and followed him out into the yard, where Miss Barbara had already preceded them. The view over the edge of the bluff was glorious and the gra.s.s in the yard was green, the flowers bright and pretty and the shadows of the tall lilac bushes by the back door of the little white house cool and inviting.

Barbara danced along the bluff edge, looking down at the dories and nets on the beach below. Her mother sighed softly.

"It is lovely!" she said. Then, turning to look at the little house, she added, "And it was your old home, I suppose."

Jed nodded. "Yes, ma'am," he replied. "I was born in that house and lived there all my life up to five years ago."

"And then you gave it up. Why? . . . Please forgive me. I didn't mean to be curious."

"Oh, that's all right, ma'am. Nothin' secret about it. My mother died and I didn't seem to care about livin' there alone, that's all."

"I see. I understand."