I had the glue pot standin'
on that box just afore you came in and . . . er . . . it leaks
consider'ble."
Mr. Bearse raspingly separated his nether garment from the top of
the box and departed, expressing profane opinions. Jed's lips
twitched for an instant, then he puckered them and began to
whistle.
But, although he had refused to discuss the matter with Gabriel
Bearse, he realized that there was a strong element of probability
in the latter's surmise. It certainly did look as if the spoiled
daughter of Orham's bank president had lost her heart to her
father's newest employee. Maud had had many admirers; some very
earnest and lovelorn swains had hopefully climbed the Hunniwell
front steps only to sorrowfully descend them again. Miss Melissa
Busteed and other local scandal scavengers had tartly classified
the young lady as the "worst little flirt on the whole Cape," which
was not true. But Maud was pretty and vivacious and she was not
averse to the society and adoration of the male sex in general,
although she had never until now shown symptoms of preference for
an individual. But Charlie Phillips had come and seen and, judging
by appearances, conquered.
Since the Thanksgiving dinner the young man had been a frequent
visitor at the Hunniwell home. Maud was musical, she played well
and had a pleasing voice.
Pages:
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305