"There ain't no doubt of it," declared Mr. Bearse. "All hands is
talkin' about it. Looks's if Cap'n Sam would have a son-in-law on
his hands pretty soon. How do you cal'late he'd like the idea,
Shavin's?"
Jed squinted along the edge of the board he was planing. He made
no reply. Gabe tried again.
"How do you cal'late Cap'n Sam'll like the notion of his pet
daughter takin' up with another man?" he queried. Jed was still
mute. His caller lost patience.
"Say, what ails you?" he demanded. "Can't you say nothin'?"
Mr. Winslow put down the board and took up another.
"Ye-es," he drawled.
"Then why don't you, for thunder sakes?"
"Eh? . . . Um. . . Oh, I did."
"Did what?"
"Say nothin'."
"Oh, you divilish idiot! Stop tryin' to be funny. I asked you how
you thought Cap'n Sam would take the notion of Maud's havin' a
steady beau? She's had a good many after her, but looks as if she
was stuck on this one for keeps."
Jed sighed and looked over his spectacles at Mr. Bearse. The
latter grew uneasy under the scrutiny.
"What in time are you lookin' at me like that for?" he asked,
pettishly.
The windmill maker sighed again. "Why--er--Gab," he drawled, "I
was just thinkin' likely YOU might be stuck for keeps."
"Eh? Stuck? What are you talkin' about?"
"Stuck on that box you're sittin' on.
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