Part 37 (2/2)

”I was tryin' to decide,” he drawled, ”whether it needed hair tonic or a wig. So you like this Charlie Phillips, do you?”

”Sartin sure I do! And the customers like him, too. Why, old Melissa Busteed was in yesterday and he waited on her for half an hour, seemed so, and when the agony was over neither one of 'em had got mad enough so anybody outside the buildin' would notice it.

And that's a miracle that ain't happened in that bank for more'n ONE year. Why, I understand Melissa went down street tellin' all hands what a fine young man we'd got workin' for us. . . . Here, what are you laughin' at?”

The word was ill-chosen; Jed seldom laughed, but he had smiled slightly and the captain noticed it.

”What are you grinnin' at?” he repeated.

Jed's hand moved across his chin.

”Gab Bea.r.s.e was in a spell ago,” he replied, ”and he was tellin'

about what Melissa said.”

”Well, she said what I just said she said, didn't she?”

Mr. Winslow nodded. ”Um-hm,” he admitted, ”she said--er--all of that.”

”All of it? Was there some more?”

”'Cordin' to Gabe there was. 'Cordin' to him she said . . . she said . . . er . . . Hum! this brush ain't much better'n the other.

Seem to be comin' down with the mange, both of 'em.”

”Gracious king! Consarn the paint brushes! Tell me what Melissa said.”

”Oh, yes, yes. . . . Well, 'cordin' to Gabe she said 'twas a comfort to know there was a place in this town where an unprotected female could go and not be insulted.”

Captain Sam's laugh could have been heard across the road.

”Ho, ho!” he roared. ”An unprotected female, eh? 'Cordin' to my notion it's the male that needs protection when Melissa's around.

I've seen Lute Small standin' in the teller's cage, tongue-tied and with the sweat standin' on his forehead, while Melissa gave him her candid opinion of anybody that would vote to allow alcohol to be sold by doctors in this town. And 'twas ten minutes of twelve Sat.u.r.day mornin', too, and there was eight men waitin' their turn in line, and nary one of them or Lute either had the s.p.u.n.k to ask Melissa to hurry. Ho, ho! 'unprotected female' is good!”

He had his laugh out and then added: ”But there's no doubt that Charlie's goin' to be popular with the women. Why, even Maud seems to take a s.h.i.+ne to him. Said she was surprised to have me show such good judgment. Course she didn't really mean she was surprised,” he hastened to explain, evidently fearing that even an old friend like Jed might think he was criticizing his idolized daughter. ”She was just teasin' her old dad, that's all. But I could see that Charlie kind of pleased her. Well, he pleases me and he pleases the cas.h.i.+er and the directors. We agree, all of us, that we're mighty lucky. I gave you some of the credit for gettin'

him for us, Jed,” he added magnanimously. ”You don't really deserve much, because you hung back so and wouldn't tell his name, but I gave it to you just the same. What's a little credit between friends, eh? That's what Bluey Batcheldor said the other day when he came in and wanted to borrow a hundred dollars on his personal note. Ho! ho!”

Captain Sam's glowing opinion of his paragon was soon echoed by the majority of Orham's population. Charlie Phillips, although quiet and inclined to keep to himself, was liked by almost every one. In the bank and out of it he was polite, considerate and always agreeable. During these first days Jed fancied that he detected in the young man a certain alert dread, a sense of being on guard, a reserve in the presence of strangers, but he was not sure that this was anything more than fancy, a fancy inspired by the fact that he knew the boy's secret and was on the lookout for something of the sort. At all events no one else appeared to notice it and it became more and more evident that Charlie, as nine-tenths of Orham called him within a fortnight, was destined to be the favorite here that, according to his sister, he had been everywhere else.

Of course there were a few who did not, or would not, like him.

Luther Small, the deposed bank clerk, was bitter in his sneers and caustic in his comments. However, as Lute loudly declared that he was just going to quit anyhow, that he wouldn't have worked for old Hunniwell another week if he was paid a million a minute for it, his hatred of his successor seemed rather unaccountable. Barzilla Small, Luther's fond parent, also professed intense dislike for the man now filling his son's position in the bank. ”I don't know how 'tis,” affirmed Barzilla, ”but the fust time I see that young upstart I says to myself: 'Young feller, you ain't my kind.' This remark being repeated to Captain Sam, the latter observed: 'That's gospel truth and thank the Lord for it.'”

Another person who refused to accept Phillips favorably was Phineas Babbitt. Phineas's bitterness was not the sort to sweeten over night. He disliked the new bank clerk and he told Jed Winslow why.

They met at the post office--Phineas had not visited the windmill shop since the day when he received the telegram notifying him of his son's enlistment--and some one of the group waiting for the mail had happened to speak of Charlie Phillips. ”He's a nice obligin' young chap,” said the speaker, Captain Jeremiah Burgess.

”I like him fust-rate; everybody does, I guess.”

Mr. Babbitt, standing apart from the group, his bristling chin beard moving as he chewed his eleven o'clock allowance of ”Sailor's Sweetheart,” turned and snarled over his shoulder.

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