Having commanded a steamer before he left the sea and
become a banker, the captain usually ordered rather than requested.
"Hurry all you can. I ain't half through talkin' with you. For
the land sakes, MOVE! Of all the deliberate, slow travelin'--"
He did not finish his sentence, nor did Winslow, who had started
toward the door, have time to reach it. The door was opened and a
short, thickset man, with a leathery face and a bristling yellow-
white chin beard, burst into the room. At the sight of its
occupants he uttered a grunt of satisfaction and his bushy brows
were drawn together above his little eyes, the latter a washed-out
gray and set very close together.
"Humph!" he snarled, vindictively. "So you BE here. Gabe Bearse
said you was, but I thought probably he was lyin', as usual. Did
he lie about the other thing, that's what I've come here to find
out? Sam Hunniwell, have you been put on that Draft Exemption
Board?"
"Yes," he said, curtly, "I have."
The man trembled all over.
"You have?" he cried, raising his voice almost to a scream.
"Yes, I have. What's it matter to you, Phin Babbitt? Seems to
have het you up some, that or somethin' else."
"Het me up! By--" Mr. Phineas Babbitt swore steadily for a full
minute. When he stopped for breath Jed Winslow, who had stepped
over and was looking out of the window, uttered an observation.
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