If you feel
you can get along with me for a landlord I'd ought sartin to be
willin' to have you for tenants. Course I don't blame the
Davidsons, in one way, you understand, but--"
"I do. I blame them in every way. They must have been unspeakable.
Mr. Winslow, I hope you will consider Babbie and me not merely
tenants and neighbors, but friends--real friends."
Jed did not reply for at least a minute. Then he said: "I'm afraid
you'll be kind of lonesome; my friends are like corn sprouts in a
henyard, few and scatterin'."
"So much the better; we shall feel that we belong to select
company."
He did not thank her nor answer, but walked slowly on through the
dining-room and kitchen, where he opened the door and stepped out
upon the grass. There he stood for a moment, gazing at the sky,
alternately puckering his lips and opening them, but without saying
a word. Mrs. Armstrong and Barbara, who had followed him, watched
these facial gymnastics, the lady with astonishment, her daughter
with expectant interest.
"I know what he is doing that for, Mamma," she whispered. "It's
because he's thinking and don't know whether to whistle or not.
When he thinks AWFUL hard he's almost sure to whistle--or sing."
"Hush, hush, Babbie!"
"Oh, he won't hear us. He hardly ever hears any one when he's
thinking like that.
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