"I haven't known you very long but I have already learned enough about you to know that you are an honorable man.If I did not know that I shouldn't be here now.It is true that I did not mean for you or any one here in Orham to learn of my--of our trouble, and if Babbie had not told you so much I probably should never have spoken to you about it.The poor child's conscience troubled her so last evening that she came crying to me and confessed, and it is because I gathered from her that she had told enough to make you at least guess the truth that I am here now.I prefer that you should hear the story just as it is from me, rather than imagine something which might be worse.Don't you see?"Jed saw, but he was still very much perturbed.
"Now, now, Mrs.Armstrong," he begged, "don't tell me anything, please don't.I laid awake about all night thinkin' what I'd ought to do, whether I'd ought to tell you what Babbie said, or just not trouble you at all and try to forget I ever heard it.That's what I decided finally, to forget it; and I will--I vow and declare Iwill! Don't you tell me anything, and let me forget this.Now please."But she shook her head."Things like that are not so easily forgotten," she said; "even when one tries as hard to forget as Iam sure you would, Mr.Winslow.No, I want to tell you; I really do.Please don't say any more.Let me go on....Oh," with a sudden burst of feeling "can't you see that I must talk with SOMEONE--I MUST?"Her clasped fingers tightened and the tears sprang to her eyes.
Poor Jed's distress was greater than ever.
"Now--now, Mrs.Armstrong," he stammered, "all I meant to say was that you mustn't feel you've got to tell me.Course if you want to, that's different altogether.What I'm tryin' to say," he added, with a desperate attempt to make his meaning perfectly clear, "is not to pay any attention to ME at all but do just what YOU want to, that's all."Even on the verge of tears as she was, she could not forbear smiling a little at this proclamation of complete self-effacement.
"I fear I must pay some attention to you," she said, "if I am to confide in you and--and perhaps ask your help, your advice, afterwards.I have reached a point when I must ask some one's advice; I have thought myself into a maze and I don't know what to do--I don't know WHAT to do.I have no near relatives, no friends here in Orham--"Jed held up a protesting hand.
"Excuse me, Mrs.Armstrong," he stammered; "I don't know as you recollect, probably it might not have meant as much to you as it did to me; but a spell ago you said somethin' about countin' me as a friend.""I know I did.And I meant it.You have been very kind, and Barbara is so fond of you....Well, perhaps you can advise me, at least you can suggest--or--or--help me to think.Will you?"Jed passed his hand across his chin.It was obvious that her asking his counsel was simply a last resort, a desperate, forlorn hope.She had no real confidence in his ability to help.He would have been the last to blame her for this; her estimate of his capabilities was like his own, that was all.
"W-e-e-ll," he observed, slowly, "as to givin' my advice, when a man's asked to give away somethin' that's worth nothin' the least he can do is say yes and try to look generous, I cal'late.If Ican advise you any, why, I'll feel proud, of course.""Thank you.Mr.Winslow, for the past two years or more I have been in great trouble.I have a brother--but you knew that; Babbie told you.""Um-hm.The one she calls 'Uncle Charlie'?""Yes.He is--he is serving his sentence in the Connecticut State Prison."Jed leaned back upon the box.His head struck smartly against the edge of the bandsaw bench, but he did not seem to be aware of the fact.
"My Lord above!" he gasped.
"Yes, it is true.Surely you must have guessed something of that sort, after Babbie's story of the policemen.""I--I--well, I did sort of--of presume likely he must have got into some sort of--of difficulty, but I never thought 'twas bad as that....Dear me!...Dear me!""My brother is younger than I; he is scarcely twenty-three years old.He and I are orphans.Our home was in Wisconsin.Father was killed in a railway accident and Mother and my brother Charles and I were left with very little money.We were in a university town and Mother took a few students as lodgers.Doctor Armstrong was one; I met him there, and before he left the medical college we were engaged to be married.Charlie was only a boy then, of course.Mother died three years later.Meanwhile Seymour--Doctor Armstrong--had located in Middleford, Connecticut, and was practicing medicine there.He came on, we were married, and Ireturned to Middleford with him.We had been married but a few years when he died--of pneumonia.That was the year after Babbie was born.Charles remained in Wisconsin, boarding with a cousin of Mother's, and, after he graduated from high school, entered one of the banks in the town.He was very successful there and the bank people liked him.After Seymour--my husband--died, he came East to see me at Middleford.One of Doctor Armstrong's patients, a bond broker in New Haven, took a fancy to him, or we thought he did, and offered him a position.He accepted, gave up his place at the bank in Wisconsin, and took charge of this man's Middleford office, making his home with Babbie and me.He was young, too young Ithink now, to have such a responsible position, but every one said he had a remarkably keen business mind and that his future was certain to be brilliant.And then--"She paused.It was evident that the hard part of her story was coming.After a moment she went on.
