Instead he went out and hoisted at the top of the short pole on the edge of the bluff the flag he had set there on the day when the United States declared war against the Hun.He hoisted it every fine morning and he took it in every night.
He stood for a moment, watching the red, white and blue flapping bravely in the morning sunshine, then he went back into his little kitchen at the rear of the workshop and set about cooking his breakfast.The kitchen was about as big as a good-sized packing box and Jed, standing over the oilstove, could reach any shelf in sight without moving.He cooked his oatmeal porridge, boiled his egg and then sat down at the table in the next room--his combined living and dining-room and not very much bigger than the kitchen--to eat.When he had finished, he washed the dishes, walked up to the post office for the mail and then, entering the workshop, took up the paint brush and the top sailor-man of the pile beside him and began work.This, except on Sundays, was his usual morning routine.It varied little, except that he occasionally sawed or whittled instead of painted, or, less occasionally still, boxed some of his wares for shipment.
During the forenoon he had some visitors.A group of summer people from the hotel came in and, after pawing over and displacing about half of the movable stock, bought ten or fifteen dollars' worth and departed.Mr.Winslow had the satisfaction of hearing them burst into a shout of laughter as they emerged into the yard and the shrill voice of one of the females in the party rose above the hilarity with: "Isn't he the WEIRDEST thing!" And an accompanying male voice appraised him as "Some guy, believe me! S-o-o-me guy!"Jed winced a little, but he went on with his painting.On one's forty-fifth birthday one has acquired or should have acquired a certain measure of philosophical resignation.
Other customers or lookers came and went.Maud Hunniwell, Captain Sam's daughter, dropped in on her way to the post office.The captain was a widower and Maud was his only child.She was, therefore, more than the apple of his eye, she was a whole orchard of apples.She was eighteen, pretty and vivacious, and her father made a thorough job of spoiling her.Not that the spoiling had injured her to any great extent, it had not as yet, but that was Captain Sam's good luck.Maud was wearing a new dress--she had a new one every week or so--and she came into the windmill shop to show it.Of course she would have denied that that was the reason for her coming, but the statement stands, nevertheless.She and Jed were great chums and had been since she could walk.She liked him, took his part when she heard him criticized or made fun of, and was always prettily confidential and friendly when they were alone together.Of course there was a touch of superiority and patronage in her friendship.She should not be blamed for this;all Orham, consciously or unconsciously, patronized Jed Winslow.
She came into the inner shop and sat down upon the same upturned box upon which her father had sat the afternoon before.Her first remark, after "good mornings" had been exchanged, was concerning the "Private" sign on the inner side of the door.
"What in the world have you put that sign inside here for?" she demanded.
Mr.Winslow explained, taking his own deliberate time in making the explanation.Miss Hunniwell wrinkled her dainty upturned nose and burst into a trill of laughter.
"Oh, that's lovely," she declared, "and just like you, besides.
And do you think Gabe Bearse will go back into the other room when he sees it?"Jed looked dreamily over his spectacles at the sign."I don't know," he drawled."If I thought he'd go wherever that sign was Iain't sure but I'd tack it on the cover of the well out in the yard yonder."His fair visitor laughed again."Why, Jed," she exclaimed."You wouldn't want to drown him, would you?"Jed seemed to reflect."No-o," he answered, slowly, "don't know's I would--not in my well, anyhow."Miss Hunniwell declared that that was all nonsense."You wouldn't drown a kitten," she said."I know that because when Mrs.
Nathaniel Rogers' old white cat brought all her kittens over here the first of this summer you wouldn't even put them out in the yard at night, to say nothing of drowning them.All six and the mother cat stayed here and fairly swarmed over you and ate you out of house and home.Father said he believed they fed at the first table and you were taking what was left.It was a mercy the old cat decided to lead them back to the Rogers' again or I don't know WHAT might have become of you by this time."Jed seemed to be thinking; there was a reminiscent twinkle in his eye.
"The old cat didn't lead 'em back," he said."Nathaniel took 'em back.Didn't I ever tell you about that?""No, you didn't.You KNOW you didn't.Mr.Rogers took them back?
I can't believe it.He told everywhere about town that he was glad to get rid of the whole family and, as you and the cats seemed to be mutually happy together, he wasn't going to disturb you.He thought it was a great joke on you.And he took them back himself?
Why?"
