After this it would be to this brother
of hers that she would turn for help and advice. Well, of course,
that was what she should do, what any one of sense would do, but
Jed was uncomfortable all the same. Also, because he was himself,
he felt a sense of guilty remorse at being uncomfortable.
The next morning he was presented to the new arrival. It was
Barbara who made the presentation. She came skipping into the
windmill shop leading the young man by the hand.
"Uncle Jed," she said, "this is my Uncle Charlie. He's been away
and he's come back and he's going to work here always and live in
the bank. No, I mean he's going to work in the bank always and
live-- No, I don't, but you know what I do mean, don't you, Uncle
Jed?"
Charles Phillips smiled. "If he does he must be a mind-reader,
Babbie," he said. Then, extending his hand, he added: "Glad to
know you, Mr. Winslow. I've heard a lot about you from Babbie and
Sis."
Jed might have replied that he had heard a lot about him also, but
he did not. Instead he said "How d'ye do," shook the proffered
hand, and looked the speaker over. What he saw impressed him
favorably. Phillips was a good-looking young fellow, with a
pleasant smile, a taking manner and a pair of dark eyes which
reminded Mr. Winslow of his sister's. It was easy to believe
Ruth's statement that he had been a popular favorite among their
acquaintances in Middleford; he was the sort the average person
would like at once, the sort which men become interested in and
women spoil.
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