Part 64 (1/2)
”Oh, nothing, nothing. I have had a feeling, a slight suspicion, recently, that-- But never mind that; I have no right to even hint at such a thing. What are you trying to get at, Jed?”
”Get at?”
”Yes. Why did you ask that question about Ruth and Barbara? You don't mean that you see a way out for me, do you?”
”W-e-e-ll, I . . . er . . . I don't cal'late I'd want to go so far as to say that, hardly. No-o, I don't know's it's a way out-- quite. But, as I've told you I've been thinkin' about you and Maud a pretty good deal lately and . . . er . . . hum . . .”
”For heaven's sake, hurry up! Don't go to sleep now, man, of all times. Tell me, what do you mean? What can I do?”
Jed's foot dropped to the floor. He sat erect and regarded his companion intently over his spectacles. His face was very grave.
”There's one thing you can do, Charlie,” he said.
”What is it? Tell me, quick.”
”Just a minute. Doin' it won't mean necessarily that you're out of your worries and troubles. It won't mean that you mustn't make a clean breast of everything to Maud and to Sam. That you must do and I know, from what you've said to me, that you feel you must.
And it won't mean that your doin' this thing will necessarily make either Maud or Sam say yes to the question you want to ask 'em.
That question they'll answer themselves, of course. But, as I see it, if you do this thing you'll be free and independent, a man doin' a man's job and ready to speak to Sam Hunniwell or anybody else LIKE a man. And that's somethin'.”
”Something! By George, it's everything! What is this man's job?
Tell me, quick.”
And Jed told him.
CHAPTER XX
Mr. Gabe Bea.r.s.e lost another opportunity the next morning. The late bird misses the early worm and, as Gabriel was still slumbering peacefully at six A. M., he missed seeing Ruth Armstrong and her brother emerge from the door of the Winslow house at that hour and walk to the gate together. Charles was carrying a small traveling bag. Ruth's face was white and her eyes were suspiciously damp, but she was evidently trying hard to appear calm and cheerful.
As they stood talking by the gate, Jed Winslow emerged from the windmill shop and, crossing the lawn, joined them.
The three talked for a moment and then Charles held out his hand.
”Well, so long, Jed,” he said. ”If all goes well I shall be back here to-morrow. Wish me luck.”
”I'll be wis.h.i.+n' it for you, Charlie, all day and all night with double time after hours and no allowance for meals,” replied Jed earnestly. ”You think Sam'll get your note all right?”
”Yes, I shall tuck it under the bank door as I go by. If he should ask what the business was which called me to Boston so suddenly, just dodge the question as well as you can, won't you, Jed?”
”Sartin sure. He'll think he's dealin' with that colored man that sticks his head through the sheet over to the Ostable fair, the one the boys heave baseb.a.l.l.s at. No, he won't get anything out of me, Charlie. And the other letter; that'll get to--to her?”
The young man nodded gravely. ”I shall mail it at the post-office now,” he said. ”Don't talk about it, please. Well, Sis, good-by-- until to-morrow.”
Jed turned his head. When he looked again Phillips was walking rapidly away along the sidewalk. Ruth, leaning over the fence, watched him as long as he was in sight. And Jed watched her anxiously. When she turned he ventured to speak.
”Don't worry,” he begged. ”Don't. He's doin' the right thing. I know he is.”
She wiped her eyes. ”Oh, perhaps he is,” she said sadly. ”I hope he is.”
”I know he is. I only wish I could do it, too. . . . I would,” he drawled, solemnly, ”only for nineteen or twenty reasons, the first one of 'em bein' that they wouldn't let me.”