CHAPTER XV
Early June came to Gould's Bluffs. The last of the blossoms fell fromthe apple and pear trees in the Phipps' orchard, there were youngswallows in the nests beneath the eaves of the shed, and tulips andhyacinths gave color and fragrance to the flower beds in the front yard.Down in the village Ras Beebe began his twice-a-year window dressing,removing the caps, candy, sweaters, oil heaters, patent medicines andmittens to substitute bathing suits, candy, straw hats, toy shovels,patent medicines and caps. Small boys began barefoot experiments.Miss Tamson Black departed for Nantucket to visit a cousin. Mr. RaishPulcifer had his wife resurrect his black-and-white striped flanneltrousers from the moth chest and hang them in the yard. "No usetalkin'," so Zach Bloomer declared, "summer is headin' down our way.She'll be here afore we know it."
She was. One pleasant morning Galusha, emerging from the Phipps' "sidedoor," saw workmen about the premises of the Restabit Inn. For a weekthereafter the neighborhood echoed with hammer blows and reeked with thesmell of new paint. The Restabit Inn, shaking off its winter shabbiness,emerged scrubbed, darned, patched and pressed, so to speak, in itslast--and several "lasts before that"--summer suit made over, ready toreceive callers.
On the twentieth of the month the callers began to arrive. EastWellmouth broke out, as a child breaks out with the measles, inbrilliant speckles, the disease in this instance being unmistakablya pronounced case of summer boarders. The "speckles" were everywhere,about the post office, in Ras Beebe's store, about the lighthouse,on the beaches, and far and wide over the hills and hollows. Theypicknicked in the pine groves, they giggled in the back seats on prayermeeting nights, they sang noisily on the way back to the hotel afterevening mail sorting, they danced jazzily in the hotel parlor and on theporches.
Martha did not mind them; she said they were rather nice, on thewhole, because they helped to remind her that all creation wasn't EastWellmouth. Galusha didn't object to them, except when they were TOOnoisy at midnight or thereabouts and interfered with his slumbers.Primmie condescended to them and aired her knowledge of localcelebrities and traditions. Captain Jethro ignored them utterly andLulie was popular among them. Only Zacheus, the philosopher, seemed tofind them unmitigated nuisances. Somehow or other the summer visitor gotunder Mr. Bloomer's hard shell and upon his salt-seasoned nerves.
"Blast 'em!" grumbled Zach, "I don't know why 'tis, but they rile melike fury. Prob'ly it's because I ain't never been much used to 'em theway I would have been if I'd been keepin' light ashore all my days. Outon the old Hog's Back we never had no visitors to speak of and we usedto hanker for 'em. Here, by Godfreys, they don't give us no time tohanker for nothin'. And they ask such foolhead questions! One woman, shesays to me yesterday, she says--I was showin' her the foghorn, and saysshe: 'Do you have to turn a crank to make it go?' Think of that! A handcrank to make the fourth highest-power foghorn on the coast blow! I lostmy patience. 'No ma'am,' says I, 'a crank ain't necessary. I just putmy mouth to the touch-hole,' I says, 'and breathe natural and shechirrups.' She believed it, too. I cal'late I'll catch thunder fromCap'n Jeth if he finds out what I told her, but I can't help it; there'slimits, by Godfreys domino, limits!"
Galusha found, except for the slight annoyance of too many of thesesojourners, that summer at Gould's Bluffs and vicinity was even moredelightful than the fall and spring had been. His friends, the Halls,whose invitation to their cottage at Wellmouth had been the cause of hiscoming to the Cape, were not occupying that cottage this summer; theyhad rented it for the season and gone abroad. So he had no old friendsto call upon. But his new friendships were enjoyable and dependable. Hishealth improved steadily; he gained in strength, and the fear thathis guilt in the affair of the Wellmouth Development stock might bediscovered grew less and less. Only one thing troubled him, and thatwas so vague that it was scarcely a trouble. The Institute people hadwritten him of some great plan for his professional services, a planwhich was to develop in the fall. Now, by all that was right and proper,he should have been tremendously curious concerning that plan, shouldhave been eagerly guessing what it might be and counting the days untilthe time came for his return to work and its immediate development.But he was not curious, he did not count the days; for some weird andunnatural reason--or for no reason whatever--he was not eager to returnto work. He, Galusha Bangs, whose life had been devoted to his petscience, who had had no thought except for that science, had laboredfor it and in it every day for twenty years and had dreamed about it atnight--he did not seem to care to go back to it. He did not seem towant to go anywhere. Contentment for him was apparently right thereat Gould's Bluffs and nowhere else. Amazing but true. And no lessdisgraceful than amazing. It was a state of mind, of course, apsychological state due to physiological causes and doubtless was buttemporary. Nevertheless, it troubled him a bit.
One morning in July he received a shock. Zacheus, returning from thepost office, met him at the Phipps' gate and handed him a letter.
"Come in last night's mail," explained Zach. "I happened to be cruisin'up to the village so I thought I might as well fetch it down to you, Mr.Bangs."
Galusha thanked him and put the letter in his pocket. Afterdinner, having gone to his room, he was searching his pockets for ahandkerchief; finding his handkerchief invariably entailed a search,because he was quite as likely to have put it in his waistcoat pocket asin those of his trousers, and just as likely to find it at last in thepocket of his overcoat downstairs on the rack. In this case he didnot find it at all, having dropped it on the road, but he did find theletter. Still wondering where he could have put the handkerchief, heabsently tore open the envelope and began to read, as follows:
"Professor Galusha C. Bangs, East Wellmouth, Mass.
"DEAR SIR:
"Mr. Augustus Cabot wishes me to inform you that he has returned to thisoffice, having, so he feels, quite regained his health. He sends hisregards to you and hopes that you, too, are getting on toward completerecovery."
Galusha, having read so far, leaned back in his chair. Cousin Gussiewell again! Back again at his Boston office! Why, this was unexpectednews! He was gratified and pleased, of course. Nevertheless, coupledwith the gratification was a slight feeling of uneasiness. Nevada--well,Nevada was such a long and safe way off; whereas Boston was so veryand dangerously near. To a person with a guilty conscience, one witha secret to conceal, the advantages of Nevada as a residence for apossibly inquisitive relative were obvious. And was Thomas writingmerely to impart the news of his employer's return? Or were there otherreasons?
"You will remember" [began the next sentence of the letter], "writinghim some time ago, while he and I were in Nevada, asking his adviceconcerning some corporation, the stock of which a friend of yours wasconsidering, either as a purchase or sale, I do not remember which."
Galusha closed his eyes and passed an agitated hand across his forehead.His question was answered; there WERE other reasons.
"You may not be aware" [the letter continued], "of the forest firewhich, on April seventeenth, destroyed the sanitarium and camps in whichMr. Cabot and I were staying. The entire institution, including our owncamp, was burned and with it were destroyed all my business records,letters received, copies of letters sent, etc. At the time we were notat all concerned with this loss, being fearful of the effect whichthe excitement might have upon Mr. Cabot's health. I am glad to say,however, that the effect, if any, was not injurious. But the loss of allcorrespondence, including that with you, is now causing some annoyance.My recollection is that I advised your friend not to buy any stock ofthe nature you described, or, if he owned any, not to attempt a forcedsale. As we have heard nothing further from you since, and as neitherour Mr. Minor nor Mr. Barbour report your consulting them on thesubject, I take it your interest in the matter is closed."
Again Galusha leaned back in his chair. But this time he drew a longbreath of relief. Mr. Thomas "took it" that his interest in the matterwas closed, did he? Well, it was, indeed it was. The sole interest henow had in the Wellmout
h Development Company was to forget it utterly.
And yet, if it was not concerning the Development matter that Thomas waswriting, what was it? The beatific smile which had followed the sigh ofrelief faded from his face and he began to read again.
"In looking over your affairs which, among others, have kept me verybusy since my return, I find," wrote Thomas, "that Mr. Barbour, at yourrequest, sent you a check on March 13th, for fourteen thousand threehundred and ten dollars and thirty-eight cents, the same being yourshare of the Tinplate reorganization profits. On March 15th, you camepersonally to this office and exchanged that check for five thousanddollars in cash and another check for ninety-three hundred and tendollars and thirty-eight cents. On March 24th, according to our records,you again came in person and exchanged this new check for eighty-twohundred dollars in cash and a third check for eleven hundred and tendollars and thirty-eight cents. This third check we do not find has asyet been presented for payment nor has it been deposited to your accountwith us. Considering the lapse of time since the check was drawn, thisseems somewhat unusual and so I am writing to ask concerning it. Mr.Cabot wishes me to add, also, that as thirteen thousand, two hundreddollars, the amount of cash drawn by you on the two occasions mentioned,is a large sum, he is, as your financial guardian--this is the term herequests me to use--a trifle anxious concerning it. He cannot, he says,conceive of a use to which you could put such a sum, particularly inyour present location on the Cape. He wishes me to ask you to write himparticulars in the matter. To his request I am adding my own concerningthe missing check. A prompt reply will greatly oblige us both.Apologizing for the inconvenience which this may cause you, and with Mr.Cabot's sincere regards and good wishes, I am,
"Yours respectfully,
"GEORGE L. THOMAS."
Mr. Bangs' smiles, beatific or otherwise, had so far vanished by thistime that he could not summon them again that day. He attempted toappear cheerful during supper that evening and breakfast next morning,but it was a sorrowful cheer. Martha asked if he was sick. He said hewas not, indeed no, really, but she looked as if she did not believehim. Primmie's suspicions of dropsy, or some equally distressingailment, revived. She watched him for signs of relapse.
The letter requested an immediate reply. That reply was neither writtennor sent. Mr. Bangs could not think of a reply which would embrace thetwo elements, safety and sanity. It was impossible to tell the truthand dangerous to attempt to tell anything else. So he did not answer theThomas letter.
In a week he received a second one, asking if he had gotten the first.This simply HAD to be acknowledged, so he did so. He wrote that hisfriend was no longer interested in the stock concerning which he hadinquired. Also he returned the check for the balance of the Tinplatepayment--it had been lying in his bureau drawer ever since he broughtit from Boston--but he made no mention of what he had done with theeighty-two hundred dollars in cash nor the five thousand which he hadpreviously drawn. He did not refer to these sums at all. He requestedthat the check for the Tinplate balance be deposited to his account andsent it in the envelope with his letter to Thomas. Then he fearfullyawaited the next blow.
It came, and in a new fashion, about a week later. He and Martha were inthe sitting room after supper when the telephone bell rang.
"Pardon me, Miss Martha," said Galusha, "but wasn't that our--I shouldsay your ring?"
Martha smiled. "I didn't notice," she said. "You're always thinkin' youhear our ring, Mr. Bangs. The last time you heard it and called me tothe 'phone, it turned out to be Emulous Dodd, the undertaker. He said,'I don't want you.' I told him I was thankful for that."
Her lodger shook his head. "I'm very sorry," he said. "These telephonecalls down here--'Two long and three short' and--ah--the like--theydo confuse me, I admit. I really can't seem to get accustomed to them.Now... Oh, but that IS your ring, isn't it, Miss Martha?"
It was. Martha took down the receiver.
"Yes... yes," she said. "Yes, this is Phipps.... Oh, all right.... Thegirl says it's a long-distance call," she added, turning to Galusha."Who can be callin' ME from long distance?... Yes... yes.... This isMiss Phipps speakin' now.... Who?... Oh, Mr. Bangs? Yes, he's righthere. It's for you, Mr. Bangs."
Galusha took the receiver from her hand. "Ah--hello!" he hailed. Thewire buzzed and sang. Then, in his ear and with surprising clearness andnearness, a voice said, brusquely: "Hello! Hello, there! Is that you,Loosh?"
Galusha recognized the voice. He had not heard it for a long time, buthe recognized it at once. And, recognizing it, something like panicseized him.
"Hello!" shouted the voice again. "Hello, Galusha! Is that you?"
Galusha glanced fearfully over his shoulder. Martha was gazing at him.She looked alarmed.
"Oh, what is it, Mr. Bangs?" she asked. "It--it's not bad news, is it?"
"No--ah--no," he faltered. "I--I--"
"Eh? What's that?" demanded the voice in the receiver, impatiently."Hello! Who is this, anyway?"
"Is there somebody sick or--or anything?" asked Martha. "No--no, MissMartha. It's all right, really. Yes, indeed, I--Oh, quite right. Yes."
"But you look so frightened."
"Do I? Oh, not in the least. That is, I... Yes, yes, I hear. Yes, thisis Bangs speaking."
"Oh, it is! Well, I'm glad you're speaking at last. You're GalushaBangs, you say?"
"Yes. Yes, I--I think so."
"You THINK so! That's good! Don't you know whether you are or not?"
"I meant I--I thought I said so. I am Galusha Bangs. Yes."
"Good! Then we've settled so much. You know who I am, of course?"
Did he? Oh, if he only did not! He cast another alarmed glance in hislandlady's direction. He wondered if the voice which was so distinctlyaudible in his ear could be heard and understood in the room. Oh, thiswas dreadful, dreadful!
"HELLO!" roared the voice again. "Hello, Bangs! Are you there?"
"Oh, yes--ah--yes. I am here. Quite so--yes."
"Well, I'm glad. I thought you might have gone clamming or something.Well, I asked if you knew who this was? Do you?"
Galusha swallowed, shut his eyes, and then faced the inevitable.
"It--it is Cousin Gussie, isn't it?" he faltered.
He heard, or imagined that he did, a little gasp of surprise from MissPhipps. He did not dare look again in her direction.
"That's right," said the voice. "You're a good guesser. How are you,anyway?"
Galusha stammered that he was very well. He added that he was glad tosee his relative. The relative promptly observed that his eyesight mustbe remarkably good.
"You know what I've called you up for, of course?" she added.
Martha had risen and was leaving the room on tiptoe.
"You and your cousin can talk better alone, I know," she whispered. "Iwant to see Primmie a minute, anyway."
Her lodger regarded her mutely. The expression of dumb misery on hisface caused her to pause for an instant.
"You're SURE there's no bad news, Mr. Bangs?" she asked, anxiously.
He managed to smile, but the smile was not a convincing success."Oh, yes--ah--quite, quite," he protested. "It--it is--ah--extremelypleasant, really.... Yes--yes, Cousin Gussie, I am--I am still here."
"Oh, you are! Fine! I thought probably you had gone to dig anotherquahaug. Why don't you answer letters?"
Galusha glanced desperately at the kitchen door. Thank heaven, it wasclosed.
"I answered yours," he declared.
"You did not. You only half answered it. That idiot Barbour sent you acheck for over fourteen thousand dollars. Of course, if I had been welland here he wouldn't have done any such fool thing. He says you told himto."
"Ah--did I?"
"Did you? Don't you know whether you did or not? Well, never mind.You came up here on two separate occasions, so they tell me, and drewthirteen thousand of that in cash and took it away with you. Now what onearth did you do that for?"
Galusha did not answer. Cabot immediately demanded to k
now if he wasstill there. Assured of this, he repeated his question.
"I--I wanted it," faltered Galusha.
"You WANTED it! Wanted thirteen thousand two hundred dollars in cashdown there on the clam flats? What did you want it FOR?"
"I--I--Well, you see--you see--"
"No, I don't see. Now, look here, old man: I realize you're of age andthat your money is your own, and all that. It isn't, legally speaking,one single bit my business if you take every cent you've got and sink itin the middle of Cape Cod Bay. But I promised your aunt before she diedthat I would try and see that you didn't do that kind of thing. She knewyou couldn't take care of money; I knew it; why, confound it, you knewit, too! You and I talked that whole matter over and we agreed I wasn'tto give you any large sums of your money, no matter how hard you beggedfor them, unless you told me why you wanted them and I was satisfied itwas all right. Didn't we agree to that? Isn't that so?"
"Why--why, yes, Cousin Gussie. You have been very kind. I appreciate it,I assure you."
"Oh, be hanged! I haven't been kind. I've only been trying to keep youfrom being TOO kind to people who work you for a good thing, that's all.Look here, Loosh: _I_ know what you've done with that thirteen thousanddollars."
Galusha shot one more pitiful glance in the direction of the kitchen.
"Ah--ah--do you?" he stammered.
"Yes. You've given it away, haven't you?"
"Well--well, you see--"
"You have? I knew it! And I know whom you've given it to."
There was no answer to be made to this appalling assertion. Poor Galushamerely clung to the receiver and awaited his death sentence.
"You've given it to some mummy-hunter to fit out another grave-robbingexpedition. Now, haven't you?"
"Why--why--"
"Be a sport now, Loosh! Tell me the truth. That's what you've done,isn't it?"
Galusha hesitated, closing his eyes, struggled with his betternature, conquered it, and faltered: "Why--why--in a way of speaking, Isuppose--"
"I knew it! I bet Minor a dinner on it. Well, confound you, Loosh; don'tyou realize they're only working you for what they can get out of you?Haven't I told you not to be such an ass? You soft-headed old... Here!What's the matter with this wire? Hello, Central! Hello!..."
The Cabot oration broke off in the middle and was succeeded by a seriesof rattles and thumps and jingles like a barrel of kitchenware fallingdownstairs; this was followed by a startling stillness, which was, inturn, broken by an aggrieved voice wailing: "Say, Central, why can't Iget that twenty-seven ring fourteen Bayport? I bet you you've given meevery other d----number on Cape Cod!"
Galusha hung up the receiver. Then he sat down in the rocker and gazedat the opposite wall. His secret was safe. But that safety he had boughtat the price of another falsehood--told to Cousin Gussie this time.He did not seem to be the same Galusha Cabot Bangs at all. ThatGalusha--the former Galusha--had considered himself a gentleman andwould no more have told a lie than he would have stolen his neighbor'sspoons. This one--his present self--lied not only once but twice andthrice. He told one untruth to cover another. He lived in an atmosphereof blackest falsehood and deception. The sole ray of light in thedarkness was the knowledge that Martha Phipps did not know his realcharacter. She considered him honest and truthful. In order that shemight continue to think him so, he would go on prevaricating forever, ifnecessary.
It preyed upon his conscience, nevertheless. The thought uppermost inhis mind was expressed in a reply which he made to a question asked byMr. Bloomer on an afternoon of that week. Zach and Primmie were, as sooften happened, involved in an argument and, as also so often happened,they called on him to act as referee.
"We was talkin' about names, Mr. Bangs," explained Primmie. "He's alwaysmakin' fun of my name. I told him my name was pretty enough to get putinto poetry sometimes. You know--"
"I told her," broke in Zach, solemnly, but with a wink at Galusha,"that the only thing I could think of to rhyme with 'Primrose' was 'JimCrows.'"
"I never said it rhymed," protested Miss Cash, hotly. "You can haveyour name in poetry without its rhymin', I guess likely. You're alwaystellin' me about how 'Zacheus he, climbed up a tree--' Now if your namehad to rhyme 'twould have to be--er--er--well, nothing'," triumphantly;"'cause nothin' COULD rhyme with Zacheus."
Mr. Bloomer, solemn as ever, shook his head.
"Yes, it could," he declared. "What's the name of that plant Lulie's gotin the settin' room window over home? The one with the prickers on it.Cat-tailed--no, rat-tailed--um--"
"Cactus." Galusha supplied the word.
"That's it," said Zach. "That would do it.
'Old man Zach'us Shinned up a cactus--'
Have to step lively, wouldn't he?" he added, with a chuckle.
Primmie sniffed. "Silly!" she retorted. "What was that pretty piece ofpoetry you told me the other day that had my name in it, Mr. Bangs? Theone about it bein' so and so and not much else? You know the one."
Galusha obliged.
"'A primrose by the river's brim A yellow primrose was to him, And it was nothing more.'"
"There!" said Primmie, triumphantly. "Do you hear that, Zach Bloomer?That's poetry, the real kind. And it's got my name in it, too."
Zach shook his head.
"You ain't a yellow primrose, Posy," he said. "You're a red one-red andspeckled. Mr. Bangs," he added, before the outraged Primmie could reply,"I think consider'ble about names, havin' such a out-of-common sort of aone myself. I never heard your name afore.... Galusha.... Godfreys! Wasyou named for somebody in the family?"
"Yes."
"I see. Yes, yes. Most generally names like that, the tough ones,come out of the Bible in the fust place. Is your name in Scriptur'anywheres?"
"I don't know. I--ah--presume I should, but I don't."
"Um-hm. Queer names in the Bible.... Um-hm. And some good ones, too....I've always been a good deal interested in names. Used to set aroundhours at a stretch, when I was aboard the old lightship, and try to pickout what name in Scriptur' I cal'lated I'd ruther be called. FinallyI got down to two--John and Paul. Both of 'em short and sensible, nofrills to 'em. Of the two I figgered maybe Paul would fit me best. Paul,he was shipwrecked one time, you remember, and I've been wrecked noless'n three.... Paul.... Um-hm.... Say, Mr. Bangs, have you ever triedto fit yourself with a Bible name?"
Galusha smiled and said he never had. Primmie, who had been silent foralmost three minutes, could remain so no longer.
"I think Solomon would be the right name for you, Mr. Bangs," she cried,enthusiastically. "You know such a terrible lot--about some kinds ofthings." This last a hasty addition.
Zach snorted. "Solomon!" he repeated. "Dan Beebe--Ras Beebe's cousinover to Trumet--named his boy Solomon, and last week they took theyoung-one up to the State home for feeble-minded. What name would youpick out of the Bible for yourself, Mr. Bangs?"
It was then that Galusha made the reply to which reference has beenmade. His smile changed and became what Primmie described as "one of hisone-sided ones."
"Ah--um--well--Ananias, perhaps," he said, and walked away.
Zach and Miss Cash stared after him. Of course, it was the latter whospoke first.
"Ananias!" she repeated. "Why, Ananias was the feller that--that lied soand was struck down dead. I remember him in Sunday school. Him and hiswife Sophrony. Seems to me 'twas Sophrony; it might have been Maria,though. But, anyhow, they died lyin'."
"That so? I thought they lied dyin'."
"Oh, be still! But what did Mr. Bangs pick out THAT name for--of allnames? Can you tell me that?"
Zacheus could not, of course, nor did he attempt it. Instead, he roseand gazed sadly at his companion.
"He said it for a joke, Buttercups," he observed. "Joke. YOU know, ajoke. One of them things that--I tell you what: You look up 'joke' inthe dictionary and then, after you've found out what 'tis, I'll lend youa patent-medicine almanac with one or two of 'em in it.... Well, I've
got to be gettin' under way. So long, Posy."
Possibly Primmie might have inquired further into the reasons whichled the Phipps' lodger to select for himself the name of the personwho "died lying," but that very afternoon, while on an errand in thevillage, she heard the news that Nelson Howard had been offered aposition as operator at the Trumet wireless station, had acceptedand was already there and at work. Every professional gossip in EastWellmouth was talking about it, not only because of its interest as apiece of news, but because of the astonishing fact that no one but thoseintimately interested had previously known of the offer.
"Why in the world," said Becky Blount, expressing the opinion of whatCaptain Jethro Hallett would have called her "tribe," "he felt 'twasnecessary to hide it as if 'twas something to be ashamed of, _I_ don'tsee. Most folks would have been proud to be offered such a chance.But that Nelse Howard's queer, anyhow. Stuck-up, I call him; and LulieHallett's the same way. She nor him won't have anything to do withcommon folks in this town. And it'll be worse NOW."
This was quite untrue, of course, for Lulie and Nelson were extremelyfriendly with all except the Blounts, Marietta Hoag, and a few more oftheir kind. The solid, substantial people in the village liked them,just as they liked and respected Martha Phipps. These people took painsto congratulate young Howard and to whisper a hope to Lulie that herfather's unreasonable opposition to the former might be lessened by thenews of his advancement.
Primmie, returning home with the sensation, was disappointed to find itno sensation at all. Lulie had told both Miss Phipps and Galusha shortlyafter Nelson told her. She had told her father also, but he had notexpressed gratification. Instead, the interview between them had endedunpleasantly.
"The first thing he did," said Lulie, when telling the story to herconfidants at the Phipps' home, "was to ask me how I knew about it. Itold him that Nelson told me."
Martha lifted her brows. "My!" she exclaimed. "You did?"
"Yes, I did. I don't know why exactly. Somehow I felt just then as if Ididn't care."
"And what did he say?"
"He didn't say as much as I thought he would. He turned and stared atme under those big eyebrows of his, and then he said: 'When did you seehim?' I said, 'Yesterday.' 'When did you see him before that?' I said,'About a week ago. Nelson and I usually see each other about once aweek, father,' I told him."
"My!" exclaimed Martha, again. "That was plain enough, to be sure."
"Yes, wasn't it? I wonder now that I had the courage. He didn't flare upas I expected he would, as I am sure he would have done last fall, forinstance. He just looked and looked at me. Then he said: 'Are you reallyplanning to marry that fellow, Lulie?' I thought that as I had gone sofar, I might as well go the rest, so I said: 'Yes, father, some day.Not as long as you want me or need me, but some day, if he is willingto wait for me.' He just kept on pulling his beard and looking at me.At last, when he did speak, he asked, 'In spite of me and--and yourmother?' It made me feel dreadfully wicked; I almost cried, I guess. ButI had to go through with it then, so I said: 'I don't want to marry "inspite" of any one, father. You know I don't. And I shall never leaveyou--never. But can't you PLEASE see Nelson as he is and not--and not--'He interrupted me there; in fact, I doubt if he heard me. 'Your motherhas warned me against that young fellow,' he said. 'You know she has,Lulie.' 'I know you THINK she has, father,' I said."
Martha's hands fell in her lap. Galusha shook his head.
"Dear me!" he observed. "Dear me!"
Lulie nodded. "Yes, I know," she said. "As soon as I said it I thought'Dear me,' too. But I don't believe he heard that, either. He seemedto be thinking and didn't speak for ever so long. Then he said, 'Therevelations from above ain't to be set aside. No, no, they lay a duty onus.' Then he stopped again and turned and walked away. The last words hesaid, as he was going out of the room, were, 'Don't let me ever see thatHoward around this house. You hear me?' And that is the way it ended. Hehasn't mentioned the subject since. But, at least," said Lulie, with anattempt at a smile, "he didn't call Nelson a 'swab.' I suppose that issome comfort."
Martha and Galusha agreed that it was. The latter said: "It seems tome that you may consider it all quite encouraging, really. It is onlythe--ah--spirits which stand in the way now."
"Yes, but oh, Mr. Bangs, they always will stand in the way, I'm afraid.Other things, real things or real people we might change or persuade,but how can you change a--a make-believe spirit that isn't and neverwas, except in Marietta Hoag's ridiculous imagination? Oh, Martha," sheadded, "you and Mr. Bangs don't think I'm horrid to speak like this,do you? Of course, if I believed, as father does, that it was really mymother's spirit speaking, I should--well, I should be.... But what isthe use? I CAN'T believe such a thing."
"Of course you can't, child," said Martha. "I knew your mother and ifshe was comin' back to this earth she wouldn't do it through MariettaHoag's head. She had too much self-respect for that."
Galusha stroked his chin. "I suppose," he said, "if there were someway in which we might influence that imagination of Miss--ah--Hoag's, achange might be brought about. It would be difficult to reach the saidimagination, however, wouldn't it? I once found a way to reach a tombof the XIIIth Dynasty which had been buried for thousands of years underthirty-three feet of rock and sand. I located it by accident--that is,in a way, it was an accident; of course, we had been searching for sometime. I happened to strike the earth at a certain point with my cameratripod and it sounded quite hollow. You see, there was a--ah--sort ofshaft, as one might say, which came quite close to the surface at thatpoint. It sounded surprisingly hollow, like a--like something quiteempty, you know. Yes."
Martha nodded. "If you struck Marietta's head anywhere," she observed,"it would sound the same way. She's got about as much brains as a punkinlantern."
"Yes--ah--yes, but I fear we should gain little by doing that. Weshouldn't get at our 'spirit' that way. But perhaps we may find a way.There are obstacles, but there were obstacles above and about that tombalso. Dear me, yes. We must consider, Miss Lulie; we must, so to speak,consider."
His advice to Nelson was similar.
"I should say the situation was a bit more encouraging, Mr. Howard,"he said. They had been discussing Lulie's talk with her father. Nelsonnodded.
"Perhaps it is, a little bit," he admitted. "It seems barely possiblethat the old man is not quite as bitter against me as he was. Forinstance, I met him yesterday at the post office and said 'Good-morning,Cap'n Jeth.' I always speak to him whenever I meet him, make it a pointto, but he never speaks to me. He didn't speak yesterday, but he didbow. It was more of a bob than a bow and he looked savage enough to biteme; but, at least, he went so far as to show he knew I was on earth.That was rather funny, too, his doing that. I wonder why he did."
Galusha reflected a moment. Then he said: "I shouldn't be greatlysurprised if your new position at the radio station may be the cause,Captain Hallett is--ah--not unmindful of success in business. MissMar--ah--that is, Miss Phipps says he is a very shrewd business man.My own experience," he added, meditatively, "would lead me to thatconclusion, also."
Nelson was surprised.
"Have you had business dealings with the cap'n?" he asked. "I neverthought of you as a business man, Mr. Bangs."
Galusha started and seemed embarrassed.
"Oh--ah--ah--I'm not, Mr. Howard," he declared, hastily. "Indeed, no."
"But you spoke of your business experience with Cap'n Jeth; or I thoughtyou did."
The little archaeologist looked very solemn.
"Such experiences as I have had with Captain Hallett," he observed,"have been--ah--most unbusinesslike."
They parted a few minutes later. Said Nelson, gloomily:
"I'm afraid the situation hasn't changed a whole lot, after all, Mr.Bangs. Cap'n Jeth may think more of my new job than he did of my oldone, but he doesn't think any better of me as a son-in-law. And hewon't, so long as he believes in that fool spirit stuff."
Galusha stroked his chin. "
We must consider those spirits, Mr. Howard,"he said. "Dear me, yes; we must seriously consider those spirits."
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