Part 22 (1/2)
Mrs. Armstrong was, naturally, rather surprised.
”Why, Mr. Winslow,” she cried; ”what are you talking about? We haven't agreed upon rent or--”
”Yes, we have. We've agreed about everything. Er--Babbie, you get your things on and come on over to the shop. You and I mustn't be sittin' 'round here any longer. We've got to get to WORK.”
CHAPTER VII
And so, in as sudden a fas.h.i.+on as he had granted the ”month's trial,” did Jed grant the permanent tenure of his property. The question of rent, which might easily have been, with the ordinary sort of landlord, a rock in the channel, turned out to be not even a pebble. Captain Hunniwell, who was handling the business details, including the making out of the lease, was somewhat troubled.
”But, Jed,” he protested, ”you've GOT to listen to me. She won't pay forty a month, although she agrees with me that for a furnished house in a location like this it's dirt cheap. Of course she's takin' it for all the year, which does make consider'ble difference, although from May to October, when the summer folks are here, I could get a hundred and forty a month just as easy as . . .
Eh? I believe you ain't heard a word I've been sayin'. Gracious king! If you ain't enough to drive the mate of a cattle boat into gettin' religion! Do you hear me? I say she won't pay--”
Jed, who was sitting before the battered old desk in the corner of his workshop, did not look around, but he waved his right hand, the fingers of which held the stump of a pencil, over his shoulder.
”Ssh-h, sh-h, Sam!” he observed, mildly. ”Don't bother me now; please don't, there's a good feller. I'm tryin' to work out somethin' important.”
”Well, this is important. Or, if it ain't, there's plenty that is important waitin' for me up at the bank. I'm handlin' this house business as a favor to you. If you think I've got nothin' else to do you're mistaken.”
Jed nodded, contritely, and turned to face his friend. ”I know it, Sam,” he said, ”I know it. I haven't got the least mite of excuse for troublin' you.”
”You ain't troublin' me--not that way. All I want of you is to say yes or no. I tell you Mrs. Armstrong thinks she can't afford to pay forty a month.”
”Yes.”
”And perhaps she can't. But you've got your own interests to think about. What shall I do?”
”Yes.”
”YES! What in time are you sayin' yes for?”
”Hum? Eh? Oh, excuse me, Sam; I didn't mean yes, I mean no.”
”Gracious king!”
”Well--er--er--,” desperately, ”you told me to say yes or no, so I--”
”See here, Jed Winslow, HAVE you heard what I've been sayin'?”
”Why, no, Sam; honest I ain't. I've run across an idea about makin' a different kind of mill--one like a gull, you know, that'll flap its wings up and down when the wind blows--and--er--I'm afraid my head is solid full of that and nothin' else. There generally ain't more'n room for one idea in my head,” he added, apologetically.
”Sometimes that one gets kind of cramped.”
The captain snorted in disgust. Jed looked repentant and distressed.
”I'm awful sorry, Sam,” he declared. ”But if it's about that house of mine--rent or anything, you just do whatever Mrs. Armstrong says.”
”Whatever SHE says? Haven't you got anything to say?”
”No, no-o, I don't know's I have. You see, I've settled that she and Babbie are to have the house for as long as they want it, so it's only fair to let them settle the rest, seems to me. Whatever Mrs. Armstrong wants to pay'll be all right. You just leave it to her.”
Captain Sam rose to his feet.