. . Hum! . . . What--er--brand of automobile is
yours?"
The major told him. Jed nodded.
"Hum . . . yes," he drawled. "I see. . . . I see."
Grover laughed. "I'll be hanged if I do!" he observed.
"Eh! . . . Well, I tell you; you sit down and let Babbie talk
Petunia to you a minute or two. I'll be right back."
He hurried into the back shop, closing the door after him. A
moment later Grover caught a glimpse of him crossing the back yard
and disappearing over the edge of the bluff.
"Where in the world has the fellow gone?" he soliloquized aloud,
amused although impatient. Barbara took it upon herself to answer.
Uncle Jed had left the caller in her charge and she felt her
responsibilities.
"He's gone down the shore path," she said. "I don't know where
else he's gone, but it's all right, anyway."
"Oh, is it? You seem quite sure of it, young lady."
"I am. Everything Uncle Jed does is right. Sometimes you don't
think so at first, but it turns out that way. Mamma says he is
petunia--no, I mean peculiar but--but very--re-li-a-ble," the last
word conquered after a visible struggle. "She says if you do what
he tells you to you will be 'most always glad. I think 'always'
without any 'most,'" she added.
Major Grover laughed. "That's a reputation for infallibility worth
having," he observed.
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