"Yup.He as much as hinted that to me; wondered if you'd take the nomination provided he could fix it for you.Sim Eldredge and Alvin and some more all said they'd vote for you if they got a chance.ARE you figgerin' to charge toll on the Lane?""Toll? What put that idea in your head?""Nothin', only some of the fellers wondered if you was.You see, you won't sell, and so--""I see.That's a brilliant suggestion, Lute.When I adopt it I'll appoint you toll-keeper.""By time! I wish you would.I'd make Thoph Newcomb pay up.He owes me ten cents; bet it one time and never settled."Yes, my position in Denboro had changed.But I took no pride in the change, as I had at first; I knew the reason for this sudden burst of popularity.The knowledge made me more cynical than ever--cynical, and lonely.For the first time since I came to the Cape I longed for a real friend, not a relative or an acquaintance, but a friend to trust and confide in.Some one, with no string of his own to pull, who cared for me because I was myself.
And all the time I had such a friend and did not realize it.The knowledge came to me in this way.Mother had one of her seizures, one of the now infrequent "sinking spells," as the doctor called them, on an evening when I was alone with her.Dorinda and Lute had gone, with the horse and buggy, to visit a cousin in Bayport.
They were to stay over night and return before breakfast the next morning.
I was alone in the dining-room when Mother called my name.There was something in her tone which alarmed me and I hastened to her bedside.One glance at her face was enough.
"Boy," she said, weakly, "I am afraid I am going to be ill.I have tried not to alarm you, but I feel faint and I am--you won't be alarmed, will you? I know it is nothing serious."I told her not to worry and not to talk.I hurried out to the kitchen, got the hot water and the brandy, made her swallow a little of the mixture, and bathed her forehead and wrists with vinegar, an old-fashioned restorative which Dorinda always used.
She said she felt better, but I was anxious and, as soon as it was safe to leave her, hurried out to bring the doctor.She begged me not to go, because it was beginning to rain and I might get wet, but I assured her it was not raining hard, and went.
It was not raining hard when I started, but there was every sign of a severe storm close at hand.It was pitch dark and I was weary from stumbling through the bushes and over the rough path when Ireached the corner of the Lane and the Lower Road.Then a carriage came down that road.It was an open wagon and George Taylor was the driver.He had been up to the Deans' and was on his way home.
I hailed the vehicle, intending to ask for a ride, but when Taylor discovered who his hailer was he insisted on my going back to the house.He would get the doctor, he said, and bring him down at once.I was afraid he would be caught in the storm, and hesitated in accepting the offer, but he insisted.I did go back to the house, found Mother in much the same condition as when I left her, and had scarcely gotten into the kitchen again when Taylor once more appeared.
"I brought Nellie along to stay with your mother," he said."The Cap'n and the old lady"--meaning Matilda--"were up at the meeting-house and we just left a note saying where we'd gone.Nellie's all right.Between you and me, she don't talk you deaf, dumb and blind like her ma, and she's good company for sick folks.Now I'll fetch the doctor and be right back.""But it's raining pitchforks," I said."You'll be wet through.""No, I won't.I'll have Doc Quimby here in no time."He drove off and Nellie Dean went into Mother's room.I had always considered Nellie a milk-and-watery young female, but somehow her quiet ways and soft voice seemed just what were needed in a sick room.I left the two together and came out to wait for Taylor and the doctor.
But they did not come.The storm was under full headway now, and the wind was dashing the rain in sheets against the windows.Iwaited nearly an hour and still no sign of the doctor.
Nellie came out of Mother's room and closed the door softly behind her.
"She's quiet now," she whispered."I think she's asleep.Where do you suppose George is?""Goodness knows!" I answered."I shouldn't have let him go, a night like this.""I'm afraid you couldn't stop him if his mind was made up.He's dreadful determined when he sets out to be.""He's a good fellow," I said, to please her.She worshipped the cashier, a fact of which all Denboro was aware, and which caused gossip to report that she did the courting for the two.
She blushed and smiled.
"He thinks a lot of you," she observed."He's always talking to me about you.It's a good thing you're a man or I should be jealous."I smiled."I seem to be talked about generally, just now," said I.
"Are you? Oh, you mean about the Shore Lane.Yes, Pa can't make you out about that.He says you've got something up your sleeve and he hasn't decided what it is.I asked George what Pa meant and he just laughed.He said whatever you had in your sleeve was your affair and, if he was any judge of character, it would stay there till you got ready to shake it out.He always stood up for you, even before the Shore Lane business happened.I think he likes you better than any one else in Denboro.""Present company excepted, of course."
"Oh, of course.If that wasn't excepted I should REALLY be jealous.Then," more seriously, "Roscoe, does it seem to you that George is worried or troubled about something lately?"I thought of Taylor's sudden change of expression that day in the bank, and of his remark that he wished he had my chance.But Iconcealed my thoughts.
"The prospect of marriage is enough to make any man worried, isn't it?" I asked."I imagine he realizes that he isn't good enough for you."There was sarcasm in this remark, sarcasm of which I should have been ashamed.But she took it literally and as a compliment.She looked at me reproachfully.
