Captain Sam, being one of
Orham's most influential men, was not, in Mr. Bearse's estimation,
at all the sort of person whom it was advisable to displease. He
might--and did--talk disparagingly of him behind his back, as he
did behind the back of every one else, but he smiled humbly and
spoke softly in his presence. The consciousness of having just
been talking of him, however, of having visited that shop for the
express purpose of talking about him, made the explaining process a
trifle embarrassing.
"Oh, howd'ye do, howd'ye do, Cap'n Hunniwell?" stammered Gabriel.
"Nice day, ain't it, sir? Yes, sir, 'tis a nice day. I was just--
er--that is, I just run in to see Shavin's here; to make a little
call, you know. We was just settin' here talkin', wan't we,
Shavin's--Jed, I mean?"
Mr. Winslow stood his completed sailor man in a rack to dry.
"Ya-as," he drawled, solemnly, "that was about it, I guess. Have a
chair, Sam, won't you? . . . That was about it, we was sittin' and
talkin' . . . I was sittin' and Gab--Gabe, I mean--was talkin'."
Captain Sam chuckled. As Winslow and Mr. Bearse were occupying the
only two chairs in the room he accepted the invitation in its broad
sense and, turning an empty box upon end, sat down on that.
"So Gabe was talkin', eh?" he repeated. "Well, that's singular.
How'd that happen, Gabe?"
Mr.
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