"Why, Uncle Jed!" she cried. "You sing EVER so much. I heard you
singing this morning."
Jed nodded. "Ye-es," he drawled, "but I was alone then and I'm
liable to take chances with my own health. Bluey Batcheldor was in
the shop last week, though, when I was tunin' up and it disagreed
with HIM."
"I don't believe it, Uncle Jed," with righteous indignation. "How
do you know it did?"
"'Cause he said so. He listened a spell, and then said I made him
sick, so I took his word for it."
Captain Sam laughed uproariously. "You must be pretty bad then,
Jed," he declared. "Anybody who disagrees with Bluey Batcheldor
must be pretty nigh the limit."
Jed nodded. "Um-hm," he said, reflectively, "pretty nigh, but not
quite. Always seemed to me the real limit was anybody who agreed
with him."
So Jed, with Babbie on his knee, sat in the corner of the bay
window looking out on the street, while Mrs. Armstrong and her
brother and Miss Hunniwell played and sang and the captain
applauded vigorously and loudly demanded more. After a time Ruth
left the group at the piano and joined Jed and her daughter by the
window. Captain Hunniwell came a few minutes later.
"Make a good-lookin' couple, don't they?" he whispered, bending
down, and with a jerk of his head in the direction of the
musicians. "Your brother's a fine-lookin' young chap, Mrs.
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