After this, having broken the ice, Jed, as Captain Sam Hunniwell might have expressed it, "kept the channel clear." When he stopped at the kitchen door of his tenants' house he no longer invariably refused to come in and sit down.When he inquired if Mrs.
Armstrong had any errands to be done he also asked if there were any chores he might help out with.When the old clock--a genuine Seth Willard--on the wall of the living-room refused to go, he came in, sat down, took the refractory timepiece in his arms and, after an hour of what he called "putterin' and jackleggin'," hung it up again apparently in as good order as ever.During the process he whistled a little, sang a hymn or two, and talked with Barbara, who found the conversation a trifle unsatisfactory.
"He hardly EVER finished what he was going to say," she confided to her mother afterward."He'd start to tell me a story and just as he got to the most interesting part something about the clock would seem to--you know--trouble him and he'd stop and, when he began again, he'd be singing instead of talking.I asked him what made him do it and he said he cal'lated his works must be loose and every once in a while his speaking trumpet fell down into his music box.Isn't he a funny man, Mamma?""He is indeed, Babbie."
"Yes.Petunia and I think he's--he's perfectly scrushe-aking.
'Twas awful nice of him to fix our clock, wasn't it, Mamma.""Yes, dear."
"Yes.And I know why he did it; he told me.'Twas on Petunia's account.He said not to let her know it but he'd taken consider'ble of a shine to her.I think he's taken a shine to me, don't you, Mamma?""I'm sure of it."
"So am I.And I 'most guess he's taken one to you, too.Anyhow he watches you such a lot and notices so many things.He asked me to-day if you had been crying.I said no.You hadn't, had you, Mamma?"Mrs.Armstrong evaded the question by changing the subject.She decided she must be more careful in hiding her feelings when her landlord was about.She had had no idea that he could be so observing; certainly he did not look it.
But her resolution was a little late.Jed had made up his mind that something was troubling his fair tenant.Again and again, now that he was coming to know her better and better, he had noticed the worn, anxious look on her face, and once before the day of the clock repairing he had seen her when it seemed to him that she had been crying.He did not mention his observations or inferences to any one, even Captain Sam, but he was sure he was right.Mrs.
Armstrong was worried and anxious and he did not like the idea.He wished he might help her, but of course he could not.Another man, a normal man, one not looked upon by a portion of the community as "town crank," might have been able to help, might have known how to offer his services and perhaps have them accepted, but not he, not Jedidah Edgar Wilfred Winslow.But he wished he could.She had asked him to consider her a real friend, and to Jed, who had so few, a friend was a possession holy and precious.
Meanwhile the war was tightening its grip upon Orham as upon every city, town and hamlet in the land.At first it had been a thing to read about in the papers, to cheer for, to keep the flags flying.
But it had been far off, unreal.Then came the volunteering, and after that the draft, and the reality drew a little nearer.Work upon the aviation camp at East Harniss had actually begun.The office buildings were up and the sheds for the workmen.They were erecting frames for the barracks, so Gabriel Bearse reported.The sight of a uniform in Orham streets was no longer such a novelty as to bring the population, old and young, to doors and windows.Miss Maud Hunniwell laughingly confided to Jed that she was beginning to have hopes, real hopes, of seeing genuine gold lace some day soon.
Captain Sam, her father, was busy.Sessions of the Exemption Board were not quite as frequent as at first, but the captain declared them frequent enough.And volunteering went on steadily here and there among young blood which, having drawn a low number in the draft, was too impatient for active service to wait its turn.
Gustavus Howes, bookkeeper at the bank, was one example.Captain Sam told Jed about it on one of his calls.
"Yep," he said, "Gus has gone, cleared out yesterday afternoon.
Goin' to one of the trainin' camps to try to learn to be an officer.Eh? What did I say to him? Why, I couldn't say nothin', could I, but 'Hurrah' and 'God bless you'? But it's leavin' a bad hole in the bank just the same."Jed asked if the bank had any one in view to fill that hole.
Captain Sam looked doubtful.
"Well," he replied, "we've got somebody in view that would like to try and fill it.Barzilla Small was in to see me yesterday afternoon and he's sartin that his boy Luther--Lute, everybody calls him--is just the one for the place.He's been to work up in Fall River in a bank, so Barzilla says; that would mean he must have had some experience.Whether he'll do or not I don't know, but he's about the only candidate in sight, these war times.What do you think of him, Jed?"Jed rubbed his chin."To fill Gus Howes' place?" he asked.
"Yes, of course.Didn't think I was figgerin' on makin' him President of the United States, did you?""Hum!...W-e-e-ll....One time when I was a little shaver, Sam, down to the fishhouse, I tried on a pair of Cap'n Jabe Kelly's rubber boots.You remember Cap'n Jabe, Sam, of course.Do you remember his feet?"The captain chuckled."My dad used to say Jabe's feet reminded him of a couple of chicken-halibut.""Um-hm....Well, I tried on his boots and started to walk across the wharf in em....""Well, what of it? Gracious king! hurry up.What happened?""Eh?...Oh, nothin' much, only seemed to me I'd had half of my walk afore those boots began to move."Captain Hunniwell enjoyed the story hugely.It was not until his laugh had died away to a chuckle that its application to the bank situation dawned upon him.
