Her husband
trotted after her. The owner of the property, gazing pathetically
through the window, saw them wandering about the premises, looking
off at the view, up into the trees, and finally trying the door of
the old house and peeping in between the slats of the closed
blinds. Then they came strolling back to the shop. Jed, drawing a
long breath, prepared to face the ordeal.
Mrs. Powless entered the shop. Mr. Powless remained by the door.
He spoke first.
"You own all this?" he asked, indicating the surrounding country
with a wave of his cane. Jed nodded.
"That house, too?" waving the point of the cane toward the Winslow
cottage.
"Yes."
"How old is it?"
Jed stammered that he guessed likely it was about a hundred years
old or such matter.
"Umph! Furniture old, too?"
"Yes, I cal'late most of it is."
"Nobody living in it?"
"No-o."
"Got the key to it?"
Here was the question direct. If he answered in the affirmative
the next utterance of the Powless man would be a command to be
shown the interior of the house. Jed was certain of it, he could
see it in the man's eye. What was infinitely more important, he
could see it in the lady's eye. He hesitated.
"Got the key to it?" repeated Mr. Powless.
Jed swallowed.
"No-o," he faltered, "I--I guess not."
"You GUESS not. Don't you know whether you've got it or not?"
"No.
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