The Postmaster Part 34

"What is there to say?" he asked, gruff. "We're stung-and that's the end of it."

"But-but-don't you realize-Why, our bid was the lowest! And yet the contract-"

He whirled on me savage.

"Didn't I tell you," says he, "that I didn't give a durn about the contract?"

"You don't! _You_ don't! Then who on airth does?"

"I don't know and I don't care!"

"You don't care! I swan to man! Why, 'twas you that swore you'd put the screens in that hotel or die tryin'. You said 'twas a matter of principle with you. And now that the Eureka folks have beat us by some shenanigan or other-for our bid was lower than theirs-you say you don't care! Have you gone loony? What _do_ you care about?"

"Nothin'-much," says he, and flopped down in his chair again.

I stared at him. All at once I begun to see a light. You'd have thought anybody that wa'n't stone blind would have seen it afore-but I hadn't.

You see, I cal'lated that I knew him from trunk to keelson, and so it never once occurred to me. I riz and walked over to him. Just as I done so, I heard the front door open and shut, but I figgered 'twas Mary comin' back, and didn't even look. I laid my hand on his shoulder.

"Jim," says I, "I guess likely I understand. I declare I'm sorry! And yet I wouldn't wonder if-"

I didn't go on. He wa'n't payin' any attention, but was lookin' over the top of his desk-lookin' with all the eyes in his head. I looked, too, and caught my breath with a jerk. The person who'd come in wa'n't Mary Blaisdell, but Georgianna Lentz.

She saw us and walked straight down to where we was. She was kind of pale and her eyes looked as if she'd been awake all night; but when she spoke 'twas right to the point-there wa'n't any hesitation about her.

"Cap'n Snow," says she, "have you heard from Mr. Parkinson?"

"Yes," says I, wonderin; "we've heard. We don't understand exactly, but perhaps that ain't necessary. I cal'late all there is left for us to do is to offer congratulations and 'go 'way back and set down,' as the boys say. You've got the contract."

"Yes," she says; "it has been given to me. But-"

Jim Henry stood up. "You'll excuse me," he says, sharp. "I'm busy."

He started to go, but she stopped him.

"No," she says; "I want you both to hear what I've got to say. Mr.

Parkinson gave me the contract yesterday; but I have decided not to take it."

We both looked at her.

"You-you've what?" says I. "Not take it? You want it, don't you?"

"Yes," she says, quiet but determined, "I want it-or I did want it very, very much. It meant so much to me-now-and might mean a great deal more in the future; but I can't take it."

This was too many for me. I looked at Jacobs. He didn't say a word.

"I can't take it," says Georgianna, "under the circ.u.mstances. I don't feel that I got it fairly. We agreed, you and I, that no personal influence should be brought to bear upon Mr. Parkinson; and I"-she blushed a little, but kept right on-"I have seen Mr. Parkinson several times durin' the past week."

I thought of her bein' to ride with the hotel man, but I didn't say anything. Jim Henry, though, started again to go. And again she stopped him.

"Wait, please!" she went on. "I didn't go to him-you must understand that! But after what you, Cap'n Snow, and that Mr. Cahoon told me the other day I was hurt and angry. I felt that you had broken your agreement with me. So when Mr. Parkinson came to see me I didn't avoid him as I had been doin'. I-I accepted invitations for drives with him, and-and-Oh, don't you see? I couldn't take the contract. I couldn't!

What would you think of me? What would I think of myself? No, my mind is made up. I'm afraid"-with a half smile that had more tears than fun in it-"that my experience in business hasn't been a success. I shall give it up and go back to stenography-or somethin'. There! Good-by. I'm sure that the Nonesuch screen will win now. Good-by!"

And now 'twas she that started to go and Jim Henry that stopped her.

"Wait!" says he, sharp. "There's somethin' here I don't understand. What do you mean by what the Cap'n and Cahoon told you the other day?

Skipper, what have you been doin'?"

I wished there was a crack or a knothole handy for me to crawl into; but there wa'n't, so I braced up best I could.

"Why, Jim," says I, "I ain't told you the whole of that business I fired 'Dolph for. Seems he'd been seein' Parkinson on his own hook and pullin'

wires for the Nonesuch. 'Twas a sneakin' mean trick, and I knew 'twould make you mad same as it done me; so I didn't tell you. 'Twas for that I bounced him."

Jim Henry's fists shut.

"The toad!" says he. "I wish I'd been there. Wait till I get my hands on him! I'll-"

"But you mustn't," put in Georgianna. "I hope you don't think I care what such a creature as he might do. When I first came here he-Oh, why can't people forget that I'm a girl!"

I could have answered that, but I didn't. Jacobs asked another question.

"Then, if it wa'n't 'Dolph, who was it?" says he. "Parkinson?"

"No!" with a flash of her eyes. "Certainly not. Mr. Parkinson is a gentleman; but-but I don't like him-that is, I don't dislike him exactly; but-"

She was dreadful fussed up. Jim Henry was between her and the door, though, and he kept right on with his questions.

"Then what was the trouble?" he said, brisk.

I answered for her.

"Well, Jim," says I, "there was somethin' else. You see, 'Dolph got mad when I sailed into him, and he come back at me by tellin' what you said about your callin' on Miss Lentz here-and takin' her autoin' and such.

How you said you was doin' it so's to keep a watch on her-that's all. I couldn't deny that you did say it, you know-because you did!"

Jim's face was a sight to see-a sort of combination of sheepishness and shame, mixed with another look, almost of joy-or as if he'd got the answer to a puzzle that had been troublin' him.

The Lentz girl spoke up quick.

"Of course," she says, "I understand now why you did it. Then I was-was-Well, it did hurt me to think that I hadn't seen through the scheme, and for a while I felt that you hadn't been true to our agreement; but, now that I have had time to think, I understand. You promised to treat me exactly as if I were a man; and, as Cap'n Snow said, if I were a man you would have kept me in sight. It's all right!

But"-with a sigh-"I realize that I'm not fitted for business-this kind of business. I don't blame you, though. Good-by. I must go!"

Lettin' her go, however, was the last thing Jim intended doin' just then. He stepped for'ard and caught her by the hand.

"Georgianna," says he, eager, "you know what you're sayin' isn't true. I did tell the Cap'n that yarn about watchin' you. He'd seen me with you and I had to tell him somethin'; but it was a lie-every word of it! You know it was."

She tried to pull her hand away, but he hung on to it as if 'twas the last life-preserver on a sinkin' ship. I cal'late he'd forgot I was on earth.

"You were keeping your promise," she said. "You were treatin' me as you would if I were a man! Please let me go, Mr. Jacobs; I have told you that I didn't blame you."

"Nonsense!" says he. "If I had done that I ought to be hung! A man!