You won't sell that Mrs. Powless any of it, will
you?" he added, anxiously. "Any of the furniture, I mean."
Mrs. Armstrong scarcely knew whether to be amused or indignant.
"Of course I shouldn't sell it," she declared. "It wouldn't be
mine to sell."
Jed looked frightened. "Yes, 'twould; yes, 'twould," he persisted.
"That's why I'm lettin' it to you. Then I can't sell it to her; I
CAN'T, don't you see?"
Captain Sam grinned. "Fur's that goes," he suggested, "I don't
see's you've got to worry, Jed. You don't need to sell it, to her
or anybody else, unless you want to."
But Jed looked dubious. "I suppose Jonah cal'lated he didn't need
to be swallowed," he mused. "You take it, ma'am, for a month, as a
favor to me."
"But how can I--like this? We haven't even settled the question of
rent. And you know nothing whatever about me."
He seemed to reflect. Then he asked:
"Your daughter don't sing like a windmill, does she?"
Barbara's eyes and mouth opened. "Why, Mamma!" she exclaimed,
indignantly.
"Hush, Babbie. Sing like a--what? I don't understand, Mr.
Winslow."
The captain burst out laughing. "No wonder you don't, ma'am," he
said. "It takes the seven wise men of Greece to understand him
most of the time. You leave it to me, Mrs. Armstrong. He and I
will talk it over together and then you and he can talk to-morrow.
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