Galusha the Magnificent

by Joseph Crosby Lincoln

  CHAPTER XVI

  August is the banner month at all northern seaside resorts. August atEast Wellmouth crowded the Restabit Inn to overflowing. On pleasantSundays the long line of cars flying through the main road of thevillage on the way to Provincetown met and passed the long linereturning Bostonward. The sound of motor horns echoed along the laneleading to Gould's Bluffs. Galusha found it distinctly safer and lessnerve-racking to walk on the grass bordering that lane than in the laneitself, as had hitherto been his custom. The harassed Zacheus led morevisitors than ever up and down the lighthouse stairs, expressing hisopinion of those visitors, after their departure, with fluency andfreedom. Mr. Bloomer's philosophy helped him through most annoyances butit broke down under the weight of the summer boarder and his--or--herquestions.

  Galusha, in his daily walks, kept far afield, avoiding the traveledways. His old resort, the Baptist cemetery, he seldom visited now,having examined and re-examined all the interesting stones within itsborders. He had discovered another ancient burial ground, over on theSouth Wellmouth road, and occasionally his wanderings took him as far asthat. The path to and from this cemetery led over the edge of the bluffand wound down to the beach by the creek and landlocked harbor where hishat--the brown derby--had put to sea that Sunday morning in the previousOctober. The path skirted the creek for a little way, then crossed on asmall bridge and climbed the pine-clad hills on the other side.

  Late one afternoon in August, Galusha, returning along this path, meta man coming in the other direction. The man was a stranger to himand obviously not a resident of East Wellmouth. He was a stout,prosperous-looking individual, well-dressed and with a brisk manner.When Mr. Bangs first saw him he was standing at a point near the footof the bluff, and gazing intently at the view. Galusha turned the cornerabove the bridge where the path re-entered the pine grove. When heemerged again the man had walked on to the little rise by the fartheredge of the creek. He was standing there, as he had stood at the pointwhere Galusha first noticed him, looking about, up and down the creek,across the little harbor, at the beaches, the sand cliffs, the pines andthe sea.

  Galusha crossed the bridge and approached along the path. The strangerheard his step and turned.

  "Good-afternoon," said Galusha.

  The man nodded and returned the greeting.

  "Nice view from here," he observed. Galusha agreed that the view wasvery nice, indeed. He passed on and turned to climb the bluff. Then thestranger called to him.

  "Excuse me," he said. "But may I ask you a question or two? Don't wantto keep you if you are in a hurry, though."

  Galusha declared himself to be not in the least hurried. The man walkedtoward him.

  "Are you acquainted about here?" he asked.

  "Why--why--ah--yes, to some extent. Yes."

  "I mean do you know the lay of the land in this vicinity?"

  "Why--ah--yes, I think so. Fairly well."

  "I see. Can you tell me how much water there is in that channel outyonder?" He pointed toward the mouth of the inlet, where the two linesof creaming breakers approached each other, but did not meet.

  "No--no, I am sorry, but I can't."

  "How deep is it off here opposite where we're standing?"

  "Dear me! I'm afraid I don't know that, either. When you askedconcerning the lay of the land I didn't understand you meantthe--ah--lay of the water. I'm very sorry."

  The man laughed. "That's all right," he said. "Asked my question thewrong way, didn't I? Well, tell me a little about the land, then. Arethe woods the other side of that hill or only on this?"

  Galusha informed him concerning the extent of the pine grove. Thestranger asked some questions about the course of the creek above thebridge, the distance from the main highway, whether the land beyond thehill was settled or unoccupied. His final question was concerning theRestabit Inn.

  "Any other hotels around here within ten miles?" he asked. When toldthere were not, he merely nodded, making no comment.

  "Well, I'm much obliged," he said. "I was just loafing around and alittle curious, that's all. Thanks. Hope I haven't kept you too long.Good-day."

  Galusha followed the winding path up the face of the high bluff. When,having reached its top, he paused to get fresh breath in place of thathe had lost, he looked down and saw his questioner standing where he hadleft him and, apparently, still admiring the view.

  The following afternoon they saw each other again. This time thestranger was on the other side of the creek, wandering about at theedge of the pine grove. He acknowledged Galusha's bow with a wave of thehand, but he did not come nearer to ask more questions.

  That evening, at the supper table, Mr. Bangs mentioned the meeting.Primmie, who prided herself upon knowing every visitor in town and wherehe or she came from, was ready with the information in this case.

  "I know who he is," she declared. "His name's Williams and him and hiswife's stoppin' at the Restabit. They never meant to stay there only onenight, but his automobile blowed up or busted out somethin' and they hadto send to Boston to get a new one. It's a dreadful expensive kind ofa one, the auto is, one of them--them Pieced-Arrows, all upholsteryand drapery window curtains and places to put bouquets and your feet inwinter to warm 'em--your feet, I mean, not the bouquets--and--"

  "There, there, Primmie," said Martha. "That will do. For mercy sakes,how did you find out all that?"

  "Their chauffeur told me. I know him, too. Him and me was introducedlast night when he stopped in to get a drink of water. His name isKelly, and he--"

  "Wait a minute. When you and he were introduced, you say? Who introducedyou?"

  "Why, he did, Miss Martha. You see, he was comin' along by and he seeme out settin' on the side steps, you know. And he stopped and he says:'You look lonesome' he says. 'Well,' says I, 'I may LOOK so, but Iain't; my savin' soul, no!' Then he wanted to know if he couldn't have adrink of water and, of course--"

  "Yes, I see--of course. I think you had better sit in the house thisevenin', Primmie."

  The "Pieced-Arrow" car, with Mr. Kelly on the driver's seat and Mr. andMrs. Williams inside, left East Wellmouth at the end of that week. Yetonce more before the season closed Galusha fancied that he caught aglimpse of that car's owner. The time was the first week in Septemberand Galusha, returning later than usual along the path from SouthWellmouth, saw two figures walking along the beach of the inlet. Theywere a good way off, but one certainly did resemble Williams as heremembered him. The brisk step was like his and the swing of the heavyshoulders. The other figure had seemed familiar, too, but it disappearedbehind a clump of beach-plum bushes and did not come out again duringthe time that Galusha remained in sight. On reflection the latterdecided that he was mistaken. Of course, Williams could not be one ofthe pair, having left the Cape. It was too dark to see plainly; and,after all, it made little difference whether it was he or not. Mr. Bangsstopped speculating on the subject and promptly forgot it entirely.

  On the morning after Labor Day there was a general exodus of citysojourners from the Inn and on September 15 it closed its doors. Theweather was still beautiful and mild, even more so than during theprevious month, but East Wellmouth's roads and lanes were no longercrowded. The village entered upon its intermediate season, that autumnperiod of quiet and restful beauty, which those who know and love theCape consider most delightful of the year.

  Galusha enjoyed its beauties hugely. He could stroll where he pleasednow and no charging and bellowing motor car was likely to awaken himfrom his daydreams and cause him to leap frantically into the gutter.Sunsets over the western dunes and the Bay were hazily wonderfulfantasies of crimson and purple and gold and sapphire, with the netsand poles of the distant fish weirs scattered here and there about theplacid water like bits of fairy embroidery. And then to end his walk byturning in at the Phipps' gate; the lamplight in the cozy dining roomshining a welcome and Martha's pleasant, attractive face above theteacups. It was like coming home, like coming to a real home, his home.He dreaded to think of leaving i
t--even for his loved science and thepromised "great plan" which the Institute people were to present himthat very fall or winter.

  He had heard nothing further from them concerning the plan, but he knewhe was likely to hear at any moment. He was well, perfectly well now,and stronger than he had been for a long, long time. He felt himselfabundantly able to take charge of an exploring expedition, or toreorganize a department, to do anything which the Institute might askhim to do. His guess was that the plan was for another archaeologicalexpedition, one to go farther afield and equipped for more thoroughresearch than any yet sent out. He himself had urged the need of such anexpedition many times, but when the war came all such ideas were givenup. The giving up had been, on his part, although he realized thenecessity which prompted it and even urged the yielding to thatnecessity, a bitter disappointment.

  And now--well, now he could not seem to arouse an atom of realenthusiasm. He should be too excited to sleep, but he did sleep well.When he dreamed of Egypt and the tombs of the Ptolemies, there wasalways a Cape Cod cottage in the foreground. And the cottage nevervaried in design; it was always the "Phipps' place," and its mistresswas always standing in the doorway. That was the great trouble, he knewit. He was going to be homesick for that cottage and its contents. Ifthey might only be transferred with him to Egypt, then the land of thePharaohs would be even more paradisical than he used to think it.

  He told Martha of the promised plan and its call to duty. Oddly enough,thereafter they discussed it but little. Other subjects, althoughmere commonplaces, they seemed to find more interesting. One evening,however, they were together in the sitting room and Martha said:

  "I noticed you got a letter from Washin'ton to-day, Mr. Bangs."

  Galusha nodded. "Yes," he said. "It wasn't a letter exactly. Merelyanother of the regular reports, that is all."

  "I see.... Well, I suppose you will be hearin' from them pretty soonabout--about that other matter. The plan they told you they had foryou."

  He nodded again. "Dear me, yes," he agreed. "I suppose I shall."

  "Why do you say 'Dear me'? You want to hear, don't you? It will be awonderful thing for you, I should think. It is sure to be somethin' youwill like, because they said so in their letter."

  "Yes--ah--yes."

  Both were silent for a brief interval, then Martha said:

  "I presume likely I shall be sittin' here in this very room this winter,doin' just the very same thing I'm doin' now, knittin' or sewin',with everything just as it is, cat and plants and Primmie and all theeveryday things I've been amongst all my life. And you'll be away off,goodness knows where, among goodness knows what sorts of queer peopleand queer places.... Well," she added, with a smile, "you won't have anyone to fret you about whether you put on rubbers or not. That'll be acomfort for you, at any rate."

  He did not seem to find great comfort in the prospect.

  "I shall not put them on," he said. "I know I sha'n't. I shall forgetall about them, and forget to eat at regular times, and to--ah--keepmy head covered in the sun. Why, do you know," he added, in a burst ofconfidence and quite as if he had not said the same thing before,"when I am by myself I always forget things like that, things that realpeople--ah--normal people, remember. Then I have--ah--indigestion andheadaches and all sorts of miserable ailments. I shall forget again, ofcourse, and my friends, the normal ones, will tell me, as they alwaysdo, that I need a--ah--keeper, so to speak. Oh, dear, yes."

  She was indignant. "A keeper!" she repeated. "The idea! I do wish youwouldn't keep speakin' of yourself as simple-minded or crazy, Mr. Bangs.You are absent-minded, I know, but what of it? Whose business is that?"

  He rubbed his chin. "Why, here," he observed, smiling slightly, "youhave been kind enough to make it YOUR business, Miss Martha. The reasonI do not have--ah--sunstrokes and colds and headaches here is that youtake pains to see that I am protected against their causes. I realizethat. And I realize, too," he added, "that in Egypt I shall missyour--your great kindness. I shall miss all this--this room andall--very much, indeed. I think--no, I know I have never spent such apleasant year as this has been. And I fear I shall never spend anotheras pleasant."

  She laughed, but she looked pleased, nevertheless.

  "Nonsense!" she exclaimed. "You'll have many more a great dealpleasanter, of course. You're well now, Mr. Bangs, and good health makessuch a difference. You will enjoy your work more than ever."

  "Will I? I don't believe I shall. That is very odd, I know, but Ithink it is true. I have been thinking about it a great deal of lateand--ah--I--well, you know, I am very sure I shall be lonely."

  "Lonely? You! Lonesome over in Egypt, after all you've told me aboutyour lovin' it so, Mr. Bangs! Lonesome for what, for mercy sakes?"

  "Why, for--for the Cape, you know; and this house and this pleasant roomand--and the kindness which has been shown me here."

  "Don't. What do what you call kindnesses amount to--the little thingsPrimmie and I have been able to do for you--what do they amount tocompared to what you did for me? I shouldn't be in this house, Ishouldn't own it, if it wasn't for the interest you took and the troubleyou went to. Lonesome! I think I'M goin' to be the real lonesome onethis winter. Since you've been livin' here, Mr. Bangs, I've had a chanceto talk of somethin' beside the little two-for-a-cent things that mostof us Gould's Bluffs people have to talk about from December toJune. I've had the chance to talk about somethin' besides Primmie'sfoolishness or Cap'n Jethro's 'spirits,' or the post office gossip. Ithas been wonderful for me. When father was alive no gale that ever blewcould keep him from trampin' up to the office after his mornin' paper.He used to say that readin' the paper was the only way he could keepenough canvas drawing to pull him out of the doldrums. More of his seatalk, that was, of course, but you understand what he meant."

  Galusha understood. "We all have our--ah--doldrums," he observed.

  "Yes, seems as if we did. But, there!" briskly picking up her knitting,"I don't know as it does us much good to sit and talk about 'em. Primmiehad a book around here last week, an old thing, one of Mrs. Southworth'sit was; Primmie borrowed it somewhere. I looked it over one afternoon,that was as much as I wanted to do with it, and I remember there wasan old woman in it who seemed to spend most of her time dreamin' ofher 'vanished past.' She seemed to worry over that vanished past a gooddeal, but, so far as I could see, she didn't gain much by it. She mighthave done some plain sewin' and gained more. I can't see that you and Igain much by sittin' here and frettin' about next winter, Mr. Bangs. Isuppose when winter is really here you will be trottin' around Egypt ona camel, or some sort of menagerie animal, and I shall be sweepin' anddustin' and makin' pies. And we both will be too busy to remember we'relonesome at all. I--Yes, Primmie, what is it?"

  Miss Cash's head and shoulders appeared between the door and the jamb.

  "Miss Martha," she whispered, hoarsely, "there's somebody come to seeyou."

  "Come to see me? Who is it; Cap'n Jethro?"

  "No'm. It's Raish--I mean Mr. Pulcifer. And," confidentially, "he won'ttell what he's come for, neither."

  "And I presume likely you asked him that very thing. Well, bring himinto the dinin' room and tell him I'll be right there. Humph!" sheadded, after Primmie had departed, "I wonder what Raish Pulcifer wantsto see me about. I can't imagine, but I guess it isn't likely to be veryimportant. I'll be back in a few minutes, Mr. Bangs."

  It was, however, a full half hour before she re-entered the sittingroom, and when she did so there was a puzzled expression on her face.

  "Now, that's funny," she observed, musingly; "that certainly is funny.What is he drivin' at, I wonder?"

  "Mr. Pulcifer?" inquired Galusha.

  "Why, yes. He didn't say so in so many words; in fact, he didn't reallysay much of anything right out. He wouldn't be Raish Pulcifer if he wasstraight and plain. He talked about the weather and how he hadn't seenme for some time and just thought he'd call, and so on. That was justgreasin' the ways for the launchin', as father would have said. He
edgedaround and edged around and finally brought up the thing I'm pretty surehe came to see me about, my two hundred and fifty shares of WellmouthDevelopment Company stock."

  Galusha caught his breath. "Eh?" he exclaimed.

  "Yes; I think he came to see me about just those shares. Of course, hethinks I've still got them. He talked about his own shares and about thecompany in general and how it wasn't likely to amount to much and--oh,well, never mind; he talked a mile before he gained a foot. But I think,Mr. Bangs, I THINK he came to see if I would sell him that stock ofmine, and, if I would, what I would sell it for. Considerin' that only alittle while ago he told you he wouldn't touch the Wellmouth Developmentstock with a ten-foot pole, that's kind of funny, isn't it?"