I mean yes. I know I ain't."
"Where is it; lost?"
The key was usually lost, that is to say, Jed was accustomed to
hunt for fifteen minutes before finding it, so, his conscience
backing his inclination, he replied that he cal'lated it must be.
"Umph!" grunted Powless. "How do you get into the house without a
key?"
Jed rubbed his chin, swallowed hard, and drawled that he didn't
very often.
"You do sometimes, don't you?"
The best answer that the harassed windmill maker could summon was
that he didn't know. The red-faced gentleman stared at him in
indignant amazement.
"You don't KNOW?" he repeated. "Which don't you know, whether you
go into the house at all, or how you get in without a key?"
"Yes,--er--er--that's it."
Mr. Powless breathed deeply. "Well, I'll be damned!" he declared,
with conviction.
His wife did not contradict his assertion, but she made one of her
own.
"George," she commanded majestically, "can't you see the man has
been drinking. Probably he doesn't own the place at all. Don't
waste another moment on him. We will come back later, when the
real owner is in. Come!"
George came and they both went. Mr. Winslow wiped his perspiring
forehead on a piece of wrapping paper and sat down upon a box to
recover. Recovery, however, was by no means rapid or complete.
They had gone, but they were coming back again; and what should he
say to them then? Very likely Captain Sam, who had sent them in
the first place, would return with them.
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