Part 13 (1/2)

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 was.h.i.+ng 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.