Winslow," she said."He is busy, you know."Jed protested."It won't be a mite of trouble," he declared.
"Besides, it ain't healthy to work too long at a stretch.That is," he drawled, "folks say 'tain't, so I never take the risk."Mrs.Armstrong smiled and followed him out into the yard, where Miss Barbara had already preceded them.The view over the edge of the bluff was glorious and the grass in the yard was green, the flowers bright and pretty and the shadows of the tall lilac bushes by the back door of the little white house cool and inviting.
Barbara danced along the bluff edge, looking down at the dories and nets on the beach below.Her mother sighed softly.
"It is lovely!" she said.Then, turning to look at the little house, she added, "And it was your old home, I suppose."Jed nodded."Yes, ma'am," he replied."I was born in that house and lived there all my life up to five years ago.""And then you gave it up.Why?...Please forgive me.I didn't mean to be curious.""Oh, that's all right, ma'am.Nothin' secret about it.My mother died and I didn't seem to care about livin' there alone, that's all.""I see.I understand."
She looked as if she did understand, and Jed, the seldom understood, experienced an unusual pleasure.The sensation produced an unusual result.
"It's a kind of cute and old-fashioned house inside," he observed.
"Maybe you'd like to go in and look around; would you?"She looked very much pleased."Oh, I should, indeed!" she exclaimed."May I?"Now, the moment after he issued the invitation he was sorry.It had been quite unpremeditated and had been given he could not have told why.His visitor had seemed so genuinely interested, and, above all, had treated him like a rational human being instead of a freak.Under this unaccustomed treatment Jed Winslow had been caught off his guard--hypnotized, so to speak.And now, when it was too late, he realized the possible danger.Only a few hours ago he had told Mr.and Mrs.George Powless that the key to that house had been lost.
He paused and hesitated.Mrs.Armstrong noticed his hesitation.
"Please don't think any more about it," she said."It is delightful here in the yard.Babbie and I will stay here a few minutes, if we may, and you must go back to your work, Mr.
Winslow."
But Jed, having put his foot in it, was ashamed to withdraw.He hastened to disclaim any intention of withdrawal.
"No, no," he protested."I don't need to go to work, not yet anyhow.I should be real pleased to show you the house, ma'am.
You wait now and I'll fetch the key."
Some five minutes later he reappeared with triumph in his eye and the "lost" key in his hand.
"Sorry to keep you waitin', ma'am," he explained."The key had--er--stole its nest, as you might say.Got it now, though."His visitors looked at the key, which was attached by a cord to a slab of wood about the size of half a shingle.Upon one side of the slab were lettered in black paint the words HERE IT IS.
Barbara's curiosity was aroused.
"What have you got those letters on there for, Mr.Winslow?" she asked."What does it say?"Jed solemnly read the inscription."I printed that on there," he explained, "so I'd be able to find the key when I wanted it."Mrs.Armstrong smiled."I should think it might help," she observed, evidently much amused.
Mr.Winslow nodded."You would think so," he said, "wouldn't you?
Maybe 'twould, too, only 'twas such a plaguey nuisance, towin' that half a cord of wood around, that I left it to home last time.
Untied the string, you know, and just took the key.The wood and the string was hangin' up in the right place, but the key wan't among those present, as they say in the newspapers.""Where was it?" demanded Barbara.
"Hush, dear," cautioned her mother."You mustn't ask so many questions.""That's all right, ma'am; I don't mind a mite.Where was it?
We-ll, 'twas in my pants pocket here, just where I put it last time I used it.Naturally enough I shouldn't have thought of lookin' there and I don't know's I'd have found it yet, but Ihappened to shove my hands in my pockets to help me think, and there 'twas."This explanation should have been satisfying, doubtless, but Barbara did not seem to find it wholly so.
"Please may I ask one more question, Mamma?" she pleaded."Just only one?"She asked it before her mother could reply.
"How does putting your hands in your pockets help you think, Mr.
Winslow?" she asked."I don't see how it would help a bit?"Jed's eye twinkled, but his reply was solemnly given.
"Why, you see," he drawled, "I'm built a good deal like the old steam launch Tobias Wixon used to own.Every time Tobias blew the whistle it used up all the steam and the engine stopped.I've got a head about like that engine; when I want to use it I have to give all the rest of me a layoff....Here we are, ma'am.Walk right in, won't you."He showed them through room after room of the little house, opening the closed shutters so that the afternoon sunlight might stream in and brighten their progress.The rooms were small, but they were attractive and cosy.The furniture was almost all old mahogany and in remarkably good condition.The rugs were home-made; even the coverlets of the beds were of the old-fashioned blue and white, woven on the hand looms of our great-grandmothers.Mrs.Armstrong was enthusiastic.
"It is like a miniature museum of antiques," she declared."And such wonderful antiques, too.You must have been besieged by people who wanted to buy them."Jed nodded."Ye-es," he admitted, "I cal'late there's been no less'n a million antiquers here in the last four or five year.Idon't mean here in the house--I never let 'em in the house--but 'round the premises.Got so they kind of swarmed first of every summer, like June bugs.I got rid of 'em, though, for a spell.""Did you; how?"
He rubbed his chin."Put up a sign by the front door that said:
'Beware of Leprosy.' That kept 'em away while it lasted."Mrs.Armstrong laughed merrily."I should think so," she said.
"But why leprosy, pray?"
