"Was she--Sam Hunniwell, was it HER you was goin' to
send to see about hirin' this house?"
"Sure it was. Why not?"
Jed pointed toward the door. "Then--then who," he demanded, "sent
those Powlesses here?"
"No one that I know of. And anyhow they don't want to rent any
houses. They've bought land over at Harnissport and they're goin'
to build a house of their own there."
"They are? They are? Then--then WHAT did that woman say I'd got
to show her the inside of this house for?"
"I don't know. Did she? Oh, I tell you what she was after,
probably. Some one had told her about your old furniture and
things, Jed. She's the greatest antique hunter on earth, so they
tell me. That's what she was after--antiques."
Jed, having paused until this had sunk in, groaned.
"Lord!" he said, again. "And I went and--"
Another groan finished the sentence.
Mrs. Armstrong came forward.
"Please don't worry about it, Mr. Winslow," she said. "I know you
didn't mean it. Of course, knowing your feelings, I shouldn't
think of taking the house."
But Jed slowly shook his head.
"I want you to," he declared. "Yes, I mean it. I want you to come
and live in this house for a month, anyhow. If you don't, that
Powless woman will come back and buy every stick and rag on the
place. I don't want to sell 'em, but I couldn't say no to her any
more than I could to the Old Harry.
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