Part 54 (2/2)
”Shh, shh! Don't do that. I tell you what to do. If you want to help me, Judah, you say nothin', but try and find out who told them these things.
Some one has been pretty busy tellin' things to my discredit for some time. Don't let any one know what you're after, but see if you can find out who is responsible. Will you?”
”Sartin sure I will. And when I do find out----”
”When you do, let me know. And Judah, one thing more: Find out all that you can find out about this Phillips man. See if he owes anybody money.
See if he pays his debts. See if he--well, find out all you can about him; but don't let any one know you're tryin' to find out, that's all.
Do you understand?”
”Eh?... Why, I guess likely I do.... But--but.... Eh? Cap'n Sears, do you mean to say you cal'late that that Eg Phillips is at the back of all this talk against you in Bayport? Do you mean that?”
”Humph! So there is talk against me; a lot of it, I suppose?”
Judah forgot to be discreet. ”Talk!” he shouted. ”There's more underhand, sneakin' lies about you goin' around this flat-bottomed, leaky, gurry-and-bilgewater tub of a town than there is fiddlers in Tophet. I've denied 'em and contradicted 'em till I'm hoa.r.s.e from hollerin'. I've offered to fight anybody who dast to say they was true, but, by the hoppin' Henry, n.o.body ever said any more than that they'd heard they was. And I never could find out who started 'em. And do you mean to say you believe that long-legged critter with the beaver hat and the--the mustache like a drowned cat's tail is responsible?”
Captain Kendrick hesitated for an instant. Then he nodded. ”I think he is, Judah,” he said, solemnly.
”Then, by the creepin', crawlin'----”
”Wait! I don't know that he is. I don't know much about him. But I mean to find out all about him, if I can. And I want you to help me.”
”I'll help. And when you find out, Cap'n?”
”Well, that depends. If I find out anything that will give me the chance, I'll--I'll smash him as flat as that.”
_He_ struck the table now, with his open palm. Mr. Cahoon grinned delightedly.
”I bet you will, Cap'n Sears!” he vowed. ”And if he ain't flat enough then I'll come and jump on him. And I ain't no West Injy hummin'-bird neither.”
Kendrick's next move was to talk with his sister. Her visits at the Minot place had not been quite as frequent of late. She came, of course, but not as often, or so it seemed to the captain, and when she came she carefully avoided all reference to her new boarder. Sears knew the reason, or thought he did. He had hurt her feelings by intimating that Mr. Phillips might not be as altogether speckless as she thought him. He had not enthused over her giving up the best parlor to his Egberts.h.i.+p and Sarah was disappointed. But, loyal and loving soul that she was, she would not risk even the slightest disagreement with her brother, and so when she called, spoke of everything or everybody but the possible cause of such disagreement. Yet the cause was there and between brother and sister, as between Elizabeth and Sears, lay the slim, lengthy, gracefully undulating shadow of Judge Knowles' pet bugbear, who was rapidly becoming Sears Kendrick's bugbear as well.
The captain had not visited the Macomber home more than twice since Judah carted him away from it in the blue truck-wagon. One fine day, however, he and the Foam Flake made the journey again, although with the buggy, not the wagon. He chose a time when he knew Kent was almost certain to be over at Bradley's office in Orham and when Phillips was not likely to be in his rooms. Of course there was a chance that he might encounter the latter, but he thought it unlikely. His guess was a good one and Egbert was out, had gone for a ride, so Mrs. Macomber said.
Mrs. Cap'n Elkanah Wingate had furnished the necessary wherewithal for riding. ”The Wingates let him use their horse and team real often,” said Sarah. ”They're awful fond of him, Mrs. Wingate especial. I don't know as Cap'n Elkanah is so much; he is kind of cross-grained sometimes and it's hard for him to like anybody very long.”
She was hard at work, ironing this time, but she would have put the flatiron back on the stove and taken her brother to the sitting room if he had permitted. ”The idea of a man like you, Sears, havin' to sit on an old broken-down chair out here in the wash-shed,” she exclaimed. ”It ain't fittin'.”
The captain sniffed. ”I guess if it's fittin' for you to be workin' out here I shouldn't complain at sittin' here,” he observed. ”Is that Joel's s.h.i.+rt? He's gettin' awfully high-toned--and high collared, seems to me.”
Mrs. Macomber was slightly confused. ”Why, no,” she said, ”this isn't Joe's s.h.i.+rt. It's Mr. Phillips's. Ain't it lovely linen? I don't know as I ever saw any finer.”
Her brother leaned back in the broken chair. ”Do you do his was.h.i.+n' for him, Sarah?” he demanded.
”Why--why, yes, Sears. You see, he's real particular about how it's done, and of course you can't blame him, he has such lovely things. He tried two of the regular washwomen, Elsie Doyle and Peleg Carpenter's wife, and they did 'em up just dreadful. So, just to help him out one time, I tried 'em myself. And they came out real nice, if I do say it, and he was so pleased. So ever since then I have been doin' 'em for him. It's hardly any trouble--any extra trouble. I have to do our own was.h.i.+n', you know.”
Sears did know, also he knew the size of that was.h.i.+ng.
”Does he pay you for it?” he asked, sharply. ”Pay you enough, I mean?”
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