Part 62 (2/2)
”Have--you talked 'em over with--with your sister?” he asked.
”Yes. But she and I don't agree completely in the matter. You see, Ruth thinks the world of me, she always did, a great deal more than I deserve, ever have deserved or ever will. And in this matter she thinks first of all of me--what will become of me provided--well, provided things don't go as I should like to have them. That isn't the way I want to face the question. I want to know what is best for every one, for her, for me and--and for some one else--most of all for some one else, I guess,” he added.
Jed nodded slowly. ”For Maud,” he said.
Charles looked at him. ”How on earth--?” he demanded. ”What in blazes are you--a clairvoyant?”
”No-o. No. But it don't need a spirit medium to see through a window pane, Charlie; that is, the average window pane,” he added, with a glance at his own, which were in need of was.h.i.+ng just then.
”You want to know,” he continued, ”what you'd ought to do now that will be the right thing, or the nighest to the right thing, for your sister and Babbie and yourself--and Maud.”
”Yes, I do. It isn't any new question for me. I've been putting it up to myself for a long time, for months; by, George, it seems years.”
”I know. I know. Well, Charlie, I've been puttin' it up to myself, too. Have you got any answer?”
”No, none that exactly suits me. Have you?”
”I don't know's I have--exactly.”
”Exactly? Well, have you any, exact or otherwise?”
”Um. . . . Well, I've got one, but . . . but perhaps it ain't an answer. Perhaps it wouldn't do at all. Perhaps . . . perhaps . . .”
”Never mind the perhapses. What is it?”
”Um. . . . Suppose we let it wait a little spell and talk the situation over just a little mite. You've been talkin' with your sister, you say, and she don't entirely agree with you.”
”No. I say things can't go on as they've been going. They can't.”
”Um-hm. Meanin'--what things?”
”Everything. Jed, do you remember that day when you and I had the talk about poetry and all that? When you quoted that poem about a chap's fearing his fate too much? Well, I've been fearing my fate ever since I began to realize what a mess I was getting into here in Orham. When I first came I saw, of course, that I was skating on thin ice, and it was likely to break under me at any time. I knew perfectly well that some day the Middleford business was bound to come out and that my accepting the bank offer without telling Captain Hunniwell or any one was a mighty risky, not to say mean, business. But Ruth was so very anxious that I should accept and kept begging me not to tell, at least until they had had a chance to learn that I was worth something, that I gave in and . . . I say, Jed,” he put in, breaking his own sentence in the middle, ”don't think I'm trying to shove the blame over on to Sis. It's not that.”
Jed nodded. ”Sho, sho, Charlie,” he said, ”course 'tain't. I understand.”
”No, I'll take the blame. I was old enough to have a mind of my own. Well, as I was saying, I realized it all, but I didn't care so much. If the smash did come, I figured, it might not come until I had established myself at the bank, until they might have found me valuable enough to keep on in spite of it. And I worked mighty hard to make them like me. Then--then--well, then Maud and I became friends and--and--oh, confound it, you see what I mean! You must see.”
The Winslow knee was clasped between the Winslow hands and the Winslow foot was swinging. Jed nodded again.
”I see, Charlie,” he said.
”And--and here I am. The smash has come, in a way, already.
Babbitt, so Ruth tells me, knows the whole story and was threatening to tell, but she says Grover a.s.sures her that he won't tell, that he, the major, has a club over the old fellow which will prevent his telling. Do you think that's true?”
”I shouldn't be surprised. Major Grover sartinly did seem to put the fear of the Lord into Phin this afternoon. . . . And that's no one-horse miracle,” he drawled, ”when you consider that all the ministers in Orham haven't been able to do it for forty odd years. . . . Um. . . . Yes, I kind of cal'late Phin'll keep his hatches shut. He may bust his b'iler and blow up with spite, but he won't talk about you, Charlie, I honestly believe. And we can all thank the major for that.”
”I shall thank him, for one!”
”Mercy on us! No, no. He doesn't know your story at all. He just thinks Babbitt was circulatin' lies about Ruth--about your sister.
You mustn't mention the Middleford--er--mess to Major Grover.”
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