"Uncle Jed," she said, "this is my Uncle Charlie.He's been away and he's come back and he's going to work here always and live in the bank.No, I mean he's going to work in the bank always and live-- No, I don't, but you know what I do mean, don't you, Uncle Jed?"Charles Phillips smiled."If he does he must be a mind-reader, Babbie," he said.Then, extending his hand, he added: "Glad to know you, Mr.Winslow.I've heard a lot about you from Babbie and Sis."Jed might have replied that he had heard a lot about him also, but he did not.Instead he said "How d'ye do," shook the proffered hand, and looked the speaker over.What he saw impressed him favorably.Phillips was a good-looking young fellow, with a pleasant smile, a taking manner and a pair of dark eyes which reminded Mr.Winslow of his sister's.It was easy to believe Ruth's statement that he had been a popular favorite among their acquaintances in Middleford; he was the sort the average person would like at once, the sort which men become interested in and women spoil.
He was rather quiet during this first call.Babbie did two-thirds of the talking.She felt it her duty as an older inhabitant to display "Uncle Jed" and his creations for her relative's benefit.
Vanes, sailors, ships and mills were pointed out and commented upon.
"He makes every one, Uncle Charlie," she declared solemnly."He's made every one that's here and--oh, lots and lots more.He made the big mill that's up in our garret-- You haven't seen it yet, Uncle Charlie; it's going to be out on our lawn next spring--and he gave it to me for a--for a-- What kind of a present was that mill you gave me, Uncle Jed, that time when Mamma and Petunia and I were going back to Mrs.Smalley's because we thought you didn't want us to have the house any longer?"Jed looked puzzled.
"Eh?" he queried."What kind of a present? I don't know's Iunderstand what you mean."
"I mean what kind of a present was it.It wasn't a Christmas present or a birthday present or anything like that, but it must be SOME kind of one.What kind of present would you call it, Uncle Jed?"Jed rubbed his chin.
"W-e-e-ll," he drawled, "I guess likely you might call it a forget-me-not present, if you had to call it anything."Barbara pondered.
"A--a forget-me-not is a kind of flower, isn't it?" she asked.
"Um-hm."
"But this is a windmill.How can you make a flower out of a windmill, Uncle Jed?"Jed rubbed his chin."Well, that's a question," he admitted."But you can make flour IN a windmill, 'cause I've seen it done."More pondering on the young lady's part.Then she gave it up.
"You mustn't mind if you don't understand him, Uncle Charlie," she said, in her most confidential and grown-up manner."He says lots of things Petunia and I don't understand at all, but he's awful nice, just the same.Mamma says he's choking--no, I mean joking when he talks that way and that we'll understand the jokes lots better when we're older.SHE understands them almost always," she added proudly.
Phillips laughed.Jed's slow smile appeared and vanished."Looks as if facin' my jokes was no child's play, don't it," he observed.
"Well, I will give in that gettin' any fun out of 'em is a man's size job."On the following Monday the young man took up his duties in the bank.Captain Hunniwell interviewed him, liked him, and hired him all in the same forenoon.By the end of the first week of their association as employer and employee the captain liked him still better.He dropped in at the windmill shop to crow over the fact.
"He takes hold same as an old-time first mate used to take hold of a green crew," he declared."He had his job jumpin' to the whistle before the second day was over.I declare I hardly dast to wake up mornin's for fear I'll find out our havin' such a smart feller is only a dream and that the livin' calamity is Lute Small.And to think," he added, "that you knew about him for the land knows how long and would only hint instead of tellin'.I don't know as you'd have told yet if his sister hadn't told first.Eh? Would you?"Jed deliberately picked a loose bristle from his paint brush.
"Maybe not," he admitted.
"Gracious king! Well, WHY not?"
"Oh, I don't know.I'm kind of--er--funny that way.Like to take my own time, I guess likely.Maybe you've noticed it, Sam.""Eh? MAYBE I've noticed it? A blind cripple that was born deef and dumb would have noticed that the first time he ran across you.
What on earth are you doin' to that paint brush; tryin' to mesmerize it?"His friend, who had been staring mournfully at the brush, now laid it down.
"I was tryin' to decide," he drawled, "whether it needed hair tonic or a wig.So you like this Charlie Phillips, do you?""Sartin sure I do! And the customers like him, too.Why, old Melissa Busteed was in yesterday and he waited on her for half an hour, seemed so, and when the agony was over neither one of 'em had got mad enough so anybody outside the buildin' would notice it.
And that's a miracle that ain't happened in that bank for more'n ONE year.Why, I understand Melissa went down street tellin' all hands what a fine young man we'd got workin' for us....Here, what are you laughin' at?"The word was ill-chosen; Jed seldom laughed, but he had smiled slightly and the captain noticed it.
"What are you grinnin' at?" he repeated.
Jed's hand moved across his chin.
"Gab Bearse was in a spell ago," he replied, "and he was tellin'
about what Melissa said."
"Well, she said what I just said she said, didn't she?"Mr.Winslow nodded."Um-hm," he admitted, "she said--er--all of that.""All of it? Was there some more?"
"'Cordin' to Gabe there was.'Cordin' to him she said...she said...er...Hum! this brush ain't much better'n the other.
Seem to be comin' down with the mange, both of 'em.""Gracious king! Consarn the paint brushes! Tell me what Melissa said.""Oh, yes, yes....Well, 'cordin' to Gabe she said 'twas a comfort to know there was a place in this town where an unprotected female could go and not be insulted."Captain Sam's laugh could have been heard across the road.
