Part 42 (1/2)

Phillips did not answer. His somber expression was still in evidence. Jed would have liked to cheer him up, but he did not know how. However he made an attempt by changing the subject.

”How is Babbie this mornin'?” he asked.

”She's as lively as a cricket, of course. And full of excitement.

She's going to school next Monday, you know. You'll rather miss her about the shop here, won't you?”

”Miss her! My land of Goshen! I shouldn't be surprised if I follered her to school myself, like Mary's little lamb. Miss her!

Don't talk!”

”Well, so long. . . . What is it?”

”Eh?”

”What is it you want to say? You look as if you wanted to say something.”

”Do I? . . . Hum. . . . Oh, 'twasn't anything special. . . .

How's--er--how's your sister this mornin'?”

”Oh, she's well. I haven't seen her so well since--that is, for a long time. You've made a great hit with Sis, Jed,” he added, with a laugh. ”She can't say enough good things about you. Says you are her one dependable in Orham, or something like that.”

Jed's face turned a bright red. ”Oh, sho, sho!” he protested, ”she mustn't talk that way. I haven't done anything.”

”She says you have. Well, by-by.”

He went away. It was some time before Jed resumed his chisel- sharpening.

Later, when he came to reflect upon his conversation with young Phillips there were one or two things about it which puzzled him.

They were still puzzling him when Maud Hunniwell came into the shop. Maud, in a new fall suit, hat and fur, was a picture, a fact of which she was as well aware as the next person. Jed, as always, was very glad to see her.

”Well, well!” he exclaimed. ”Talk about angels and--and they fly in, so to speak. Real glad to see you, Maud. Sit down, sit down.

There's a chair 'round here somewheres. Now where--? Oh, yes, I'm sittin' in it. Hum! That's one of the reasons why I didn't see it, I presume likely. You take it and I'll fetch another from the kitchen. No, I won't, I'll sit on the bench. . . . Hum . . . has your pa got any money left in that bank of his?”

Miss Hunniwell was, naturally, surprised at the question.

”Why, I hope so,” she said. ”Did you think he hadn't?”

”W-e-e-ll, I didn't know. That dress of yours, and that new bonnet, must have used up consider'ble, to say nothin' of that woodchuck you've got 'round your neck. 'Tis a woodchuck, ain't it?” he added, solemnly.

”Woodchuck! Well, I like that! If you knew what a silver fox costs and how long I had to coax before I got this one you would be more careful in your language,” she declared, with a toss of her head.

Jed sighed. ”That's the trouble with me,” he observed. ”I never know enough to pick out the right things--or folks--to be careful with. If I set out to be real toady and humble to what I think is a peac.o.c.k it generally turns out to be a Shanghai rooster. And the same when it's t'other way about. It's a great gift to be able to tell the real--er--what is it?--gold foxes from the woodchucks in this life. I ain't got it and that's one of the two hundred thousand reasons why I ain't rich.”

He began to hum one of his doleful melodies. Maud laughed.

”Mercy, what a long sermon!” she exclaimed. ”No wonder you sing a hymn after it.”

Jed sniffed. ”Um . . . ye-es,” he drawled. ”If I was more worldly-minded I'd take up a collection, probably. Well, how's all the United States Army; the gold lace part of it, I mean?”

His visitor laughed again. ”Those that I know seem to be very well and happy,” she replied.