Mrs. Armstrong was always quietly cheerful and
friendly when they met in the yard or about the premises, but she
neither intruded nor patronized. Jed's first impression of her, a
favorable one, was strengthened daily.
"I like her first-rate," he told Captain Sam. "She ain't too
folksy and she ain't too standoffish. Why, honest truth, Sam," he
added, ingenuously, "she treats me just the same as if I was like
the common run of folks."
The captain snorted. "Gracious king! Do stop runnin' yourself
down," he commanded. "Suppose you are a little mite--er--different
from the--well, from the heft of mackerel in the keg, what of it?
That's your own private business, ain't it?"
Jed's lip twitched. "I suppose 'tis," he drawled. "If it wan't
there wouldn't be so many folks interested in it."
At first he missed the freedom to which he had accustomed himself
during his years of solitude, the liberty of preparing for bed with
the doors and windows toward the sea wide open and the shades not
drawn; of strolling out to the well at unearthly hours of the early
morning singing at the top of his lungs; of washing face and hands
in a tin basin on a bench by that well curb instead of within
doors. There were some necessary concessions to convention to
which his attention was called by Captain Hunniwell, who took it
upon himself to act as a sort of social mentor.
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