Jed grunted.
"Humph!" he said, "you never came to see me last night. When you
was as close aboard as next door seems's if you might."
The major laughed. "Well, you'll have to admit that I came to-
day," he said.
"Yes," put in Captain Sam, "and, now you are here, you're goin' to
stay a spell. Oh, yes, you are, too. Uncle Sam don't need you so
hard that he can't let you have an hour or so off on Thanksgiving
Day. Maud, why in time didn't we think to have Major Grover here
for dinner along with the rest of the folks? Say, couldn't you eat
a plate of frozen puddin' right this minute? We've got some on
hand that tastes of my grandfather, and we want to get rid of it."
Their caller laughingly declined the frozen pudding, but he was
prevailed upon to remain and hear Miss Hunniwell play. So Maud
played and Charles turned the music for her, and Major Grover
listened and talked with Ruth Armstrong in the intervals between
selections. And Jed and Barbara chatted and Captain Sam beamed
good humor upon every one. It was a very pleasant, happy
afternoon. War and suffering and heartache and trouble seemed a
long, long way off.
On the way back to the shop in the chill November dusk Grover told
Jed a little of what he had called to discuss with him. If Jed's
mind had been of the super-critical type it might have deemed the
subject of scarcely sufficient importance to warrant the major's
pursuing him to the Hunniwells'.
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