He said if I came across to this shop I ought to find
one."
"He did, eh? . . . Hum!"
"Yes, he did. So I came."
"Hum!"
This observation being neither satisfying nor particularly
illuminating, Major Grover waited for something more explicit. He
waited in vain; Mr. Winslow, his eyes fixed upon the toe of his
visitor's military boot, appeared to be mesmerized.
"So I came," repeated the major, after an interval.
"Eh? . . . Oh, yes, yes. So you did, so you did. . . . Hum!"
He rose and, walking to the window, peeped about the edge of the
shade across and down the road in the direction of the telegraph
office.
"Phineas," he drawled, musingly, "and Squealer and Lute Small and
Bluey. Hu-u-m! . . . Yes, yes."
He turned away from the window and began intoning a hymn. Major
Grover seemed to be divided between a desire to laugh and a
tendency toward losing patience.
"Well," he queried, after another interval, "about that crank?
Have you one I might borrow? It may not fit, probably won't, but I
should like to try it."
Jed sighed. "There's a crank here," he drawled, "but it wouldn't
be much use around automobiles, I'm afraid. I'm it."
"What? I don't understand."
"I say I'm it. My pet name around Orham is town crank. That's why
Phineas sent you to my shop. He said you OUGHT to find a crank
here.
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