Do you know,"
he added, confidentially, "if you didn't have any whiskers and he
looked like you you'd be the very image of him."
This interesting piece of information was not received with
enthusiasm. Mr. Babbitt's sense of humor was not acutely
developed.
"Never mind the funny business, Shavin's," he snapped. "I didn't
come here to be funny to-night. Do you know why I came here to
talk to you?"
Jed pulled forward a chair and sat down.
"I presume likely you came here because you found the door
unlocked, Phin," he said.
"I didn't say HOW I came to come, but WHY I came. I knew where you
was this afternoon. I see you when you left there and I had a good
mind to cross over and say what I had to say before the whole crew,
Sam Hunniwell, and his stuck-up rattle-head of a daughter, and that
Armstrong bunch that think themselves so uppish, and all of 'em."
Mr. Winslow stirred uneasily in his chair. "Now, Phin," he
protested, "seems to me--"
But Babbitt was too excited to heed. His little eyes snapped and
his bristling beard quivered.
"You hold your horses, Shavin's," he ordered. "I didn't come here
to listen to you. I came because I had somethin' to say and when
I've said it I'm goin' and goin' quick. My boy's been home. You
knew that, I suppose, didn't you?"
Jed nodded. "Yes," he said, "I knew Leander'd come home for
Thanksgivin'.
Pages:
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297