The Portygee Part 2

"Change his clothes! Lord sakes, Olive, what would he want to change his clothes this time of night for? You don't want to change your clothes, do you, boy?"

"No, sir, I guess not."

"Sartin sure you don't. Want to wash? There's a basin and soap and towel right out there in the kitchen."

He pointed to the kitchen door. At that moment the door was partially opened and a brisk feminine voice from behind it inquired: "How about eatin'? Are you all ready in there?"

It was Captain Snow who answered.

"You bet we are, Rachel!" he declared. "All ready and then some. Trot her out. Sit down, Mother. Sit down, Al. Now then, Rachel, all aboard."

Rachel, it appeared, was the owner of the brisk feminine voice just mentioned. She was brisk herself, as to age about forty, plump, rosy and very business-like. She whisked the platter of fried mackerel and the dishes of baked potatoes, stewed corn, hot biscuits and all the rest, to the table is no time, and then, to Albert's astonishment, sat down at that table herself. Mrs. Snow did the honors.

"Albert," she said, "this is Mrs. Ellis, who helps me keep house.

Rachel, this is my grandson, Albert--er--Speranza."

She p.r.o.nounced the surname in a tone almost apologetic. Mrs. Ellis did not attempt to p.r.o.nounce it. She extended a plump hand and observed: "Is that so? Real glad to know you, Albert. How do you think you're goin' to like South Harniss?"

Considering that his acquaintance with the village had been so decidedly limited, Albert was somewhat puzzled how to reply. His grandfather saved him the trouble.

"Lord sakes, Rachel," he declared, "he ain't seen more'n three square foot of it yet. It's darker'n the inside of a n.i.g.g.e.r's undershirt outdoors to-night. Well, Al--Albert, I mean, how are you on mackerel?

Pretty good stowage room below decks? About so much, eh?"

Mrs. Snow interrupted.

"Zelotes," she said reprovingly, "ain't you forgettin' somethin'?"

"Eh? Forgettin'? Heavens to Betsy, so I am! Lord, we thank thee for these and all other gifts, Amen. What did I do with the fork; swallow it?"

As long as he lives Albert Speranza will not forget that first meal in the home of his grandparents. It was so strange, so different from any other meal he had ever eaten. The food was good and there was an abundance of it, but the surroundings were so queer. Instead of the well-ordered and sedate school meal, here all the eatables from fish to pie were put upon the table at the same time and the servant--or housekeeper, which to his mind were one and the same--sat down, not only to eat with the family, but to take at least an equal part in the conversation. And the conversation itself was so different. Beginning with questions concerning his own journey from the New York town where the school was located, it at length reached South Harniss and there centered about the diminutive person of Laban Keeler, his loquacious and tuneful rescuer from the platform of the railway station.

"Where are your things, Albert?" asked Mrs. Snow. "Your trunk or travelin' bag, or whatever you had, I mean?"

"My trunks are coming by express," began the boy. Captain Zelotes interrupted him.

"Your trunks?" he repeated. "Got more'n one, have you?"

"Why--why, yes, there are three. Mr. Holden--he is the headmaster, you know--"

"Eh? Headmaster? Oh, you mean the boss teacher up there at the school?

Yes, yes. Um-hm."

"Yes, sir. Mr. Holden says the trunks should get here in a few days."

Mrs. Ellis, the housekeeper, made the next remark. "Did I understand you to say you had THREE trunks?" she demanded.

"Why, yes."

"Three trunks for one boy! For mercy sakes, what have you got in 'em?"

"Why--why, my things. My clothes and--and--everything."

"Everything, or just about, I should say. Goodness gracious me, when I go up to Boston I have all I can do to fill up one trunk. And I'm bigger'n you are--bigger 'round, anyway."

There was no doubt about that. Captain Zelotes laughed shortly.

"That statement ain't what I'd call exaggerated, Rachel," he declared.

"Every time I see you and Laban out walkin' together he has to keep on the sunny side or be in a total eclipse. And, by the way, speakin'

of Laban--Say, son, how did you and he get along comin' down from the depot?"

"All right. It was pretty dark."

"I'll bet you! Laban wasn't very talkative, was he?"

"Why, yes, sir, he talked a good deal but he sang most of the time."

This simple statement appeared to cause a most surprising sensation. The Snows and their housekeeper looked at each other. Captain Zelotes leaned back in his chair and whistled.

"Whew!" he observed. "Hum! Sho! Thunderation!"

"Oh, dear!" exclaimed his wife.

Mrs. Ellis, the housekeeper, drew a long breath. "I might have expected it," she said tartly. "It's past time. He's pretty nigh a month overdue, as 'tis."

Captain Snow rose to his feet. "I was kind of suspicious when he started for the barn," he declared. "Seemed to me he was singin' then. WHAT did he sing, boy?" he asked, turning suddenly upon his grandson.

"Why--why, I don't know. I didn't notice particularly. You see, it was pretty cold and--"

Mrs. Ellis interrupted. "Did he sing anything about somebody's bein' his darlin' hanky-panky and wearin' a number two?" she demanded sharply.

"Why--why, yes, he did."

Apparently that settled it. Mrs. Snow said, "Oh, dear!" again and the housekeeper also rose from the table.

"You'd better go right out to the barn this minute, Cap'n Lote," she said, "and I guess likely I'd better go with you."

The captain already had his cap on his head.

"No, Rachel," he said, "I don't need you. Cal'late I can take care of 'most anything that's liable to have happened. If he ain't put the bridle to bed in the stall and hung the mare up on the harness pegs I judge I can handle the job. Wonder how fur along he'd got. Didn't hear him singin' anything about 'Hyannis on the Cape,' did you, boy?"

"No."

"That's some comfort. Now, don't you worry, Mother. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Mrs. Snow clasped her hands. "Oh, I HOPE he hasn't set the barn afire,"

she wailed.

"No danger of that, I guess. No, Rachel, you 'tend to your supper. I don't need you."