"Do you always wash outdoors there?" asked the captain, after
watching one set of ablutions.
"Why--er--yes, I 'most generally do in good weather. It's sort of--
er--well, sort of cool and roomy, as you might say."
"Roomy, eh? Gracious king! Well, I should say you needed room.
You splash into that basin like a kedge anchor goin' overboard and
when you come out of it you puff like a grampus comin' up to blow.
How do you cal'late Mrs. Armstrong enjoys seein' you do that?"
Jed looked startled and much disturbed. "Eh?" he exclaimed. "Why,
I never thought about her, Sam. I declare I never did. I--I'll
fetch the wash basin inside this very minute."
And he did. The inconvenience attached to the breaking off of a
summer-time habit of years troubled him not half as much as the
fear that he might have offended a fellow creature's sensibilities.
Jed Winslow was far too sensitive himself and his own feelings had
been hurt too many times to make hurting those of another a small
offense in his eyes.
But these were minor inconveniences attached to his new position as
landlord. There were recompenses. At work in his shop he could
see through the window the white-clad, graceful figure of Mrs.
Armstrong moving about the yard, sitting with Barbara on the bench
by the edge of the bluff, or writing a letter at a table she had
taken out under the shadow of the silver-leaf tree.
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