The pity which Jed felt for Phineas Babbitt caused him to keep silent concerning his Thanksgiving evening interview with the hardware dealer.At first he was inclined to tell Major Grover of Babbitt's expressions concerning the war and his son's enlistment.
After reflection, however, he decided not to do so.The Winslow charity was wide enough to cover a multitude of other people's sins and it covered those of Phineas.The latter was to be pitied; as to fearing him, as a consequence of his threat to "get square," Jed never thought of such a thing.If he felt any anxiety at all in the matter it was a trifling uneasiness because his friends, the Hunniwells and the Armstrongs, were included in the threat.But he was inclined to consider Mr.Babbitt's wrath as he had once estimated the speech of a certain Ostable candidate for political office, to be "like a tumbler of plain sody water, mostly fizz and froth and nothin' very substantial or fillin'." He did not tell Grover of the interview in the shop; he told no one, not even Ruth Armstrong.
The--to him, at least--delightful friendship and intimacy between himself and his friends and tenants continued.He and Charlie Phillips came to know each other better and better.Charles was now almost as confidential concerning his personal affairs as his sister had been and continued to be.
"It's surprising how I come in here and tell you all my private business, Jed," he said, laughing."I don't go about shouting my joys and troubles in everybody's ear like this.Why do I do it to you?"Jed stopped a dismal whistle in the middle of a bar.
"W-e-e-ll," he drawled, "I don't know.When I was a young-one Iused to like to holler out back of Uncle Laban Ryder's barn so's to hear the echo.When you say so and so, Charlie, I generally agree with you.Maybe you come here to get an echo; eh?"Phillips laughed."You're not fair to yourself," he said."Igenerally find when the echo in here says no after I've said yes it pays me to pay attention to it.Sis says the same thing about you, Jed."Jed made no comment, but his eyes shone.Charles went on.
"Don't you get tired of hearing the story of my life?" he asked.
"I--"
He stopped short and the smile faded from his lips.Jed knew why.
The story of his life was just what he had not told, what he could not tell.
As January slid icily into February Mr.Gabriel Bearse became an unusually busy person.There were so many things to talk about.
Among these was one morsel which Gabe rolled succulently beneath his tongue.Charles Phillips, "'cordin' to everybody's tell," was keeping company with Maud Hunniwell.
"There ain't no doubt of it," declared Mr.Bearse."All hands is talkin' about it.Looks's if Cap'n Sam would have a son-in-law on his hands pretty soon.How do you cal'late he'd like the idea, Shavin's?"Jed squinted along the edge of the board he was planing.He made no reply.Gabe tried again.
"How do you cal'late Cap'n Sam'll like the notion of his pet daughter takin' up with another man?" he queried.Jed was still mute.His caller lost patience.
"Say, what ails you?" he demanded."Can't you say nothin'?"Mr.Winslow put down the board and took up another.
"Ye-es," he drawled.
"Then why don't you, for thunder sakes?"
"Eh?...Um...Oh, I did."
"Did what?"
"Say nothin'."
"Oh, you divilish idiot! Stop tryin' to be funny.I asked you how you thought Cap'n Sam would take the notion of Maud's havin' a steady beau? She's had a good many after her, but looks as if she was stuck on this one for keeps."Jed sighed and looked over his spectacles at Mr.Bearse.The latter grew uneasy under the scrutiny.
"What in time are you lookin' at me like that for?" he asked, pettishly.
The windmill maker sighed again."Why--er--Gab," he drawled, "Iwas just thinkin' likely YOU might be stuck for keeps.""Eh? Stuck? What are you talkin' about?""Stuck on that box you're sittin' on.I had the glue pot standin'
on that box just afore you came in and...er...it leaks consider'ble."Mr.Bearse raspingly separated his nether garment from the top of the box and departed, expressing profane opinions.Jed's lips twitched for an instant, then he puckered them and began to whistle.
But, although he had refused to discuss the matter with Gabriel Bearse, he realized that there was a strong element of probability in the latter's surmise.It certainly did look as if the spoiled daughter of Orham's bank president had lost her heart to her father's newest employee.Maud had had many admirers; some very earnest and lovelorn swains had hopefully climbed the Hunniwell front steps only to sorrowfully descend them again.Miss Melissa Busteed and other local scandal scavengers had tartly classified the young lady as the "worst little flirt on the whole Cape," which was not true.But Maud was pretty and vivacious and she was not averse to the society and adoration of the male sex in general, although she had never until now shown symptoms of preference for an individual.But Charlie Phillips had come and seen and, judging by appearances, conquered.
Since the Thanksgiving dinner the young man had been a frequent visitor at the Hunniwell home.Maud was musical, she played well and had a pleasing voice.Charles' baritone was unusually good.
So on many evenings Captain Sam's front parlor rang with melody, while the captain smoked in the big rocker and listened admiringly and gazed dotingly.At the moving-picture theater on Wednesday and Saturday evenings Orham nudged and winked when two Hunniwells and a Phillips came down the aisle.Even at the Congregational church, where Maud sang in the choir, the young bank clerk was beginning to be a fairly constant attendant.Captain Eri Hedge declared that that settled it.
"When a young feller who ain't been to meetin' for land knows how long," observed Captain Eri, "all of a sudden begins showin' up every Sunday reg'lar as clockwork, you can make up your mind it's owin' to one of two reasons--either he's got religion or a girl.
