|HUNCH went down to Liddington Sunday morning on the combination freight
and passenger train. Bruce had come to the station with him, and stood
looking after the train for a long time after it had pulled away. Hunch
saw him through the rear window.
It was a crisp January morning. The snow had come and the train rattled
through a flat, white country, cut into strips as far as one could
see by the straight up and down lines of the black pine stumps. At
Liddington Hunch went up to the white brick hotel on the main street and
ate his dinner alone. He walked up and down for an hour after dinner,
trying to think clearly about Mamie and Bruce. Now, that he was on the
ground, he was not sure why he had come. But it drew near three o'clock,
and he walked out to Bruce's cottage.
At first there was no answer to his knock. The curtains were down, and
the snow had not been cleared away from the steps. He knocked again and
rattled the knob. He heard some one moving. A little later an inside
door opened, and then, after some fumbling with the lock, Mamie opened
the door. She was pale and thin. A shawl was drawn over her head and
shoulders.
“Oh!” she said, then smiled. “How do you do, Mister Badeau?”
Hunch stepped in and closed the door.
“What's the matter?” he said. “You ain't sick?”
“No, just a little under the weather. Come in and sit down.”
The front room was cold.
“Ain't you got no fire?” Hunch asked.
“Yes, I made a little fire in the kitchen this morning. I can sit out
there, you know. I don't need any in here. Guess we'd better go out
there anyhow, where it's warmer.”
“You go ahead,” said Hunch; then, “Where's your wood? I'll make a fire
here.”
“Oh, no, you mustn't?”
“Now you just leave me be, Mis' Considine. You set down in the kitchen
and lemme fix you up. Where's the wood?”
“It's out here in the box,” said Mamie, opening the kitchen door.
Hunch saw why she was sparing of wood. There were only a few armfuls.
But he built a roaring fire in the front room, and then took the ax out
into the back yard and split up a heap of boards and timber waste that
lay under the snow. Mamie watched him through the window. After a few
strokes he grew warm from the exercise, and taking off his coat he
handed it through the door to Mamie, and said, “Warm weather, ain't it?”
Mamie was smiling when she reappeared at the window. Hunch filled the
wood box and laid a large pile on the floor at each end. Then he put on
his coat.
“Well,” he said, “that's more like. Pull up a chair, Mis' Considine.”
“You must be hungry, Mr. Badeau, after all that work. I'm going to make
you some coffee, anyway.”
“Now, don't you do nothing of the sort. That ain't work? That's just
fun.” Unconsciously he expanded his chest as he spoke. In spite of his
bent shoulders, it was a deep, rounded chest, different from Bruce's.
Mamie did not know that there was admiration in her eyes as she watched
him.
“Now, you've got to let me, Mr. Badeau. I don't have company very often.
You just sit still and let me work awhile. I'm not doing my share.” So
Hunch sat by the stove and watched her as she stepped about the kitchen.
Her manner had brightened, and there was a flush on her cheeks. She took
pains to keep the pantry door closed, but once Hunch caught a glimpse
inside and saw that the shelves were nearly bare. While drinking the
coffee they both felt a slight restraint. Occasionally when their eyes
met, Mamie would lower hers and laugh nervously. They talked of old
times, and Hunch recalled, somewhat awkwardly, the day he had first met
her on the beach by the life-saving station.
Then there was a long pause, and Hunch said, “Look here, Mis' Considine,
there ain't no use trying to make me think things that ain't so is so.
I'm going down town and bring up something to eat.”
Mamie flushed.
“Now, don't say nothing. You just leave me be and we'll fix things up in
great shape.”
Mamie tried to protest, but Hunch put on his ulster and started up the
street, saying over his shoulder as he went down the steps, “I'll be
back in no time.”
He found Joe Cartier, who kept the grocery and meat market across from
the hotel, at his house, and made him open his store and put up a large
bundle of provisions. When he returned, Mamie was at the front window.
She hurried to open the door.
“Come on and we'll have a blowout,” said Hunch, as he cut the string and
spread the packages over the kitchen table. “There's a good many of the
things that don't have to be cooked at all. I got some preserve--thought
you might like it. Do you? It's peach.”
Mamie's eyes were hesitating between laughter and tears, but she nodded
quickly and the laugh triumphed. Then they both set to work. Hunch laid
the table-cloth, and puttered about clumsily, while Mamie prepared
the meal. Mamie laughed, at his awkwardness, and after a time grew so
cheerful that she joked him and made him blush through the bronze on
his face. And they sat facing each other across the table, with all the
lively chatter of two foolish young people. Afterward she washed the
dishes and he wiped them.
But when it was finished and they sat before the stove in the front
room, the sense of restraint returned. For a long time neither spoke.
They looked at the two cracked mica windows in the stove door, which
glowed redly when the flames leaped up behind them. It was Mamie who
finally broke the silence.
“Is--Bruce well?”
“He's--he's pretty well. He didn't feel quite able to come down to-day.
You know we're bunking together. You see, I know about--now, you mustn't
think I'm poking my nose into none of my business. I and Bruce was
together a good while, and we come to know a good deal about each other,
o' course.”
Mamie was looking at the stove windows. The wood in the stove had
fallen, sending up sparks and shoots of flame that danced grotesquely on
the mica.
“You see, if there's anything I can do, 't aint 's if I was doing a
favor. It's just that mebbe I was lucky in getting a place that pays
a little more'n Bruce's. And you see he'd do just the same by me if it
come that I was kind of on my uppers.”
Mamie was still silent.
“Now, you just be sensible-'cause it's all sort of in the family, you
know--and tell me how it is about the rent, and mebbe we can kind of
patch things up, because three heads is better 'n two. Understand?”
Mamie leaned back in her chair and rested her face in her hands. When
Hunch looked at her he saw that she was crying, and he waited till she
should speak. Finally she said, “I don't know just what we're going to
do. It--it's only that there's some one else wants the house and we--of
course----”
“Yes, of course,” said Hunch.
“I thought, maybe I ought to take a room somewhere.”
“That's so. Something smaller. I dunno but what's like as not you'd feel
better anyhow. This is a pretty big house for a little bit of a thing
like you. Mebbe 's long as Bruce is working up to Manistee you could get
a room and sort of keep house for yourself. Be kind of snug, don't you
think so?”
“Tell you what,” he said, after they had sat for several minutes without
talking, “I'll see what we can do.” He rose and put on his coat. Mamie
watched him, but seemed unable to reply, and let him go out without a
word.
He returned an hour later. Mamie was still sitting by the stove.
“It's all fixed up,” he said, shaking the snow from his coat. “You're
going over to Cartier's. They've got a big room for you, and he's going
to see that you get moved all right. You can take your meals right in
the house. And 'twon't cost you hardly anything. Now, you just drop them
blues and we'll see if we can't get you fatter 'n you ever was. You're
a-going to have a good time yet this winter. And Bruce 'll come down
Sundays. I've got to get the train. Guess I might's well start along.”
She got up slowly and followed him to the door. Neither knew what to
say. Hunch buttoned his ulster and drew on one of his big fur mittens.
He looked at his hand, big and freckled, with hard, knotted fingers and
broken nails. He held it out hurriedly and said, “Well--good-by.”
She took his hand shyly. Suddenly she bent down and kissed it, and a
tear dropped on it. Hunch pulled his hand away.
“Oh, don't do that----”
She looked up into his face. She did not seem to care now if he saw her
crying.
Hunch forgot that he had shaken hands and he took hers again, this time
with his mitten on. Then he opened the door and hurried out. She stood
at the window looking after him as he walked down the street, but he did
not turn around.