A LETTER AND A VISITOR
“Whit,” asked Asaph next day, “wan't you surprised to see Heman last
night?”
Captain Cy nodded. He was once more busy with the doll house, the
construction of which had progressed slowly of late, owing to the
demands which the party and politics made upon its builder's time.
“Yup,” he said, “I sartinly was. Pretty good sign, I shouldn't wonder.
Looks as if friend Tad had found the tide settin' too strong against him
and had whistled for a tug. All right; the more scared the other side
get, the better for us.”
“But what in the world made Heman come over and have supper? He never
so much as stepped foot in the house afore, did he? That's the biggest
conundrum of all.”
“Well, I guess I've got the answer. Strikes me that Heman's sociableness
is the best sign yet. Heman's a slick article, and when he sees there's
danger of losin' the frostin' on the cake he takes care to scrape the
burnt part off the bottom. I may be school committeeman after town
meetin'. He'll move all creation to stop me, of course--in his quiet,
round-the-corner way--but, if I do win out, he wants to be in a position
to take me one side and tell me that he's glad of it; he felt all along
I was the right feller for the job, and if there's anything he can do to
make things easier for me just call on him. That's the way I size it up,
anyhow.”
“Cy, I never see anybody like you. You're dead set against Heman, and
have been right along. And he's never done anything to you, fur's I see.
He's given a lot to the town, and he's always been the most looked-up-to
man we've got. Joe Dimick and two or three more chronic growls have been
the only ones to sling out hints against him, till you come. Course
I'm working for you, tooth and nail, and I will say that you seem to be
gettin' the votes some way or other. But if Heman SHOULD step right out
and say: 'Feller citizens, I'm behind Tad Simpson in this fight, and as
a favor to me and 'cause I think it's right and best, I want 'Lonzo Snow
elected'--well, _I_ don't believe you'd have more'n one jack and a ten
spot to count for game.”
“Probably not, Ase; I presume likely not. But you take a day off some
time and see if you can remember that Heman EVER stepped right out and
said things. Blame it! that's just it. As for WHY he riles me up and
makes me stubborn as a balky mule, I don't know exactly. All I'm sure
is that he does. Maybe it's 'cause I don't like the way he wears his
whiskers. Maybe it's because he's so top-lofty and condescendin'. A
feller can whistle to me and say: 'Come on, Bill,' and I'll trot at his
heels all day. But when he pats me on the head and says: 'There there!
nice doggie. Go under the bed and lay down,' my back bristles up and I
commence to growl right off. There's consider'ble Whittaker in me, as
I've told you before.”
The town clerk pondered over this rather unsatisfactory line of
reasoning for some minutes. His companion fitted a wooden chimney on the
doll house, found it a trifle out of plumb, and proceeded to whittle
a shaving off the lower edge. Then Asaph sighed, as one who gives up a
perplexing riddle, put his hand in his pocket, and produced a bundle of
papers.
“I made out a list of fellers down to the east'ard that I'm goin' to
see this afternoon,” he said. “Some of 'em I guess 'll vote for you,
but most of 'em are pretty sartin' for 'Lonzo. However, I--Where is
that list? I had it somewhere's. And--well, I swan! I come pretty near
forgettin' it myself. I'm 'most as bad as Bailey.”
From the bundle of papers he produced a crumpled envelope.
“That Bailey,” he observed, “must be in love, I cal'late, though I don't
know who with. Ketury, I s'pose, 'cordin' to law and order, but--Well,
anyhow, he's gettin' more absent-minded all the time. Here's a letter
for you, Cy, that he got at the post-office a week ago Monday. 'Twas the
night of the church sociable, and he had on his Sunday cutaway, and
he ain't worn it sence, till the party yesterday. When he took off the
coat, goin' to bed, the letter fell out of it. I guess he was ashamed to
fetch it round himself, so he asked me to do it. Better late than never,
hey? Here's that list at last.”
He produced the list and handed it to the captain for inspection. The
latter looked it over, made a few comments and suggestions, and told his
friend to heave ahead and land as many of the listed as possible. This
Mr. Tidditt promised to do, and, replacing the papers in his pocket,
started for the gate.
“Oh! Say, Ase!”
The town clerk, his hand on the gate latch, turned.
“Well, what is it?” he asked. “Don't keep me no longer'n you can help. I
got work to do, I have.”
“All right, I won't stop you. Only fallin' in love is kind of epidemic
down at the boardin' house, I guess. Who is it that's got you in
tow--Matildy?”
“What are you talkin' about? Didn't I tell you to quit namin' me with
Matildy Tripp? I like a joke as well as most folks, but when it's wore
into the ground I--”
“Sho, sho! Don't get mad. It's your own fault. You said that
absent-mindedness was a love symptom, so I just got to thinkin', that's
all. That letter that Bailey forgot--you haven't given it to me yet.”
Asaph turned red and hastily snatched the papers from his pocket. He
strode back to the door of the woodshed, handed his friend the crumpled
envelope, and stalked off without another word. The captain chuckled,
laid the letter on the bench beside him and went on with his work. It
was perhaps ten minutes later when, happening to glance at the postmark
on the envelope, he saw that it was “Concord, N. H.”
Asaph's vote-gathering trip “to the east'ard” made a full day for him.
He returned to the perfect boarding house just at supper time. During
the meal he realized that Mr. Bangs seemed to be trying to attract his
attention. Whenever he glanced in that gentleman's direction his glance
was met by winks and mystifying shakes of the head. Losing patience at
last, he demanded to know what was the matter.
“Want to say somethin' to me, do you?” he inquired briskly. “If you do,
out with it! Don't set there workin' your face as if 'twas wound up,
like a clockwork image.”
This remark had the effect of turning all the other faces toward
Bailey's. He was very much upset.
“No, no!” he stammered. “No, no! I don't want you for nothin'. Was I
makin' my face go? I--I didn't know it. I've been washin' carriages and
cleanin' up the barn all day and I cal'late I've overdone. I'm gettin'
old, and hard work's likely to bring on shakin' palsy to old folks.”
His wife tartly observed that, if WORK was the cause of it, she guessed
he was safe from palsy for quite a spell yet. At any rate, a marked
recovery set in and he signaled no more during the meal. But when it was
over, and his task as dish-wiper completed, he hurried out of doors and
found Mr. Tidditt, shivering in the November wind, on the front porch.
“Now what is it?” asked Asaph sharply. “I know there's somethin' and
I've froze to death by sections waitin' to hear it.”
“Have you seen Cy?” whispered Bailey, glancing fearfully over his
shoulder at the lighted windows of the house.
“No, not sence mornin'. Why?”
“Well, there's somethin' the matter with him. Somethin' serious. I was
swabbin' decks in the barn about eleven o'clock, when he come postin'
in, white and shaky, and so nervous he couldn't stand still. Looked as
if he had had a stroke almost. I--”
“Godfrey scissors! You don't s'pose Heman's comin' back has knocked out
his chances for the committee, do you?”
“No, sir-ee! 'twan't that. Cy's anxious to be elected and all, but you
know his politics are more of a joke with him than anything else. And
any rap Heman or Tad could give him would only make him fight harder.
And he wouldn't talk politics at all; didn't seem to give a durn about
'em, one way or t'other. No, 'twas somethin' about that letter, the one
I forgot so long. He wanted to know why in time I hadn't given it to him
when it fust come. He was real ugly about it, for him, and kept pacin'
up and down the barn floor and layin' into me, till I begun to think he
was crazy. I guess he see my feelin's were hurt, 'cause, just afore he
left, he held out his hand and said I mustn't mind his talk; he'd been
knocked on his beam ends, he said, and wan't really responsible.”
“Wouldn't he say what had knocked him?”
“No, couldn't get nothin' out of him. And when he quit he went off
toward home, slappin' his fists together and actin' as if he didn't see
the road across his bows. Now, you know how cool and easy goin' Whit
generally is. I swan to man, Ase! he made me so sorry for him I didn't
know what to do.”
“Ain't you been up to see him sence?”
“No, Ketury was sot on havin' the barn cleaned, and she stood over
me with a rope's end, as you might say. I couldn't get away a minute,
though I made up more'n a dozen errands at Simmons's and the like of
that. You hold on till I sneak into the entry and get my cap and we'll
put for there now. I won't be but a jiffy. I'm worried.”
They entered the yard of the Cy Whittaker place together and approached
the side door. As they stood on the steps Asaph touched his chum on the
arm and pointed to the window beside them. The shade was half drawn and
beneath it they had a clear view of the interior of the sitting room.
Captain Cy was in the rocker before the stove, holding Bos'n in his
arms. The child was sound asleep, her yellow braid hanging over the
captain's broad shoulder. He was gazing down into her face with a look
which was so full of yearning and love that it brought a choke into the
throats of the pair who saw it.
They entered the dining room. The captain sprang from his chair and,
still holding the little girl close against his breast, met them at
the sitting-room door. When he saw who the visitors were, he caught his
breath, almost with a sob, and seemed relieved.
“S-s-h-h!” he whispered warningly. “She's asleep.”
The members of the Board of Strategy nodded understandingly and sat
down upon the sofa. Captain Cy tiptoed to the bedroom, turned back the
bedclothes with one hand and laid Bos'n down. They saw him tuck her
carefully in and then stoop and kiss her. He returned to the sitting
room and closed the door behind him.
“We see she was asleep afore we come in,” explained Asaph. “We see you
and her through the window.”
The captain looked hurriedly at the window indicated. Then he stepped
over and pulled the shade down to the sill, doing the same with the
curtains of the other two windows.
“What's the matter?” inquired Bailey, trying to be facetious. “'Fraid of
'Lonzo's crowd spyin' on us?”
Captain Cy did not reply. He did not even sit down, but remained
standing, his back to the stove.
“Well?” he asked shortly. “Did you fellers want to see me for anything
'special?”
“Wanted to see what had struck you all to once,” replied Mr. Tidditt.
“Bailey says you scared him half to death this forenoon. And you look
now as if somebody's ghost had riz and hollered 'Boo!' at you. For the
land sakes, Whit, what IS it?”
The captain drew his hand across his forehead.
“Ghost?” he repeated absently. “No, I haven't SEEN a ghost. There!
there! don't mind me. I ain't real well to-day, I guess.” He smiled
crookedly.
“Don't you want to hear about my vote-grabbin' cruise?” asked Tidditt.
“I was flatterin' myself you'd be tickled to hear I'd done so well. Why,
even Marcellus Parker says he may vote for you--if he makes up his mind
that way.”
Marcellus was a next-door neighbor of Alonzo Snow's. But Captain Cy
didn't seem to care.
“Hey?” he murmured. “Yes. Well?”
“WELL! Is that all you've got to say? Are you really sick, Cy? Or is
Bos'n sick?”
“No!” was the answer, almost fierce in its utterance. “She isn't sick.
Don't be a fool.”
“What's foolish about that? I didn't know but she might be. There's
mumps in town and--”
“She's all right; so shut up, will you! There, Ase!” he added. “I'm the
fool myself. Don't mind my barkin'; I don't mean it. I am about sick, I
cal'late. Be better to-morrer, maybe.”
“What's got into you? Was that letter of Bailey's--”
“Hush!” The captain held up his hand. “I thought I heard a team.”
“Depot wagon, most likely,” said Bailey. “About time for it! Humph!
seems to be stoppin', don't it? Was you expectin' anybody? Shall I go
and--”
“No! Set still.”
The pair on the sofa sat still. Captain Cy stood like a statue in the
middle of the floor. He squared his shoulders and jammed his clenched
fists into his pockets. Steps crunched the gravel of the walk. There
came a knock at the door of the dining room.
Walking steadily, but with a face set as the figurehead on one of his
own ships, the captain went to answer the knock. They heard the door
open, and then a man's voice asked:
“Is this Cap'n Whittaker?”
“Yes,” was the short answer.
“Well, Cap, I guess you don't know me, though maybe you know some of my
family. Ha, ha! Don't understand that, hey? Well, you let me in and I'll
explain the joke.”
The captain's reply was calm and deliberate.
“I shouldn't wonder if I understood it,” he said. “Come in. Don't--” The
remainder of the sentence was whispered and the listeners on the sofa
could not hear it. A moment later Captain Cy entered the sitting room,
followed by his caller.
The latter was a stranger. He was a broad-shouldered man of medium
height, with a yellowish mustache and brown hair. He was dressed in
rather shabby clothes, without an overcoat, and he had a soft felt hat
in his hand. The most noticeable thing about him was a slight hesitancy
in his walk. He was not lame, he did not limp, yet his left foot seemed
to halt for an instant as he brought it forward in the step. They
learned afterwards that it had been hurt in a mine cave-in. He carried
himself with a swagger, and, after his entrance, there was a perceptible
aroma of alcohol in the room.
He stared at the Board of Strategy and the stare was returned in
full measure. Bailey and Asaph were wildly curious. They, of course,
connected the stranger's arrival with the mysterious letter and the
captain's perturbation of the day.
But their curiosity was not to be satisfied, at least not then.
“How are you, gents?” hailed the newcomer cheerfully. “Like the looks of
me, do you?”
Captain Cy cut off further conversation.
“Ase,” he said, “this--er--gentleman and I have got some business to
talk over. I know you're good enough friends of mine not to mind if
I ask you to clear out. You'll understand. You WILL understand, boys,
won't you?” he added, almost entreatingly.
“Sartin sure!” replied Mr. Tidditt, rising hurriedly. “Don't say another
word, Whit.” And the mystified Bangs concurred with a “Yes, yes! Why, of
course! Didn't have nothin' that amounts to nothin' to stay for anyhow.
See you to-morrer, Cy.”
Outside and at the gate they stopped and looked at each other.
“Well!” exclaimed Asaph. “If that ain't the strangest thing! Who was
that feller? Where'd he come from? Did you notice how Cy acted? Seemed
to be holdin' himself in by main strength.”
“Did you smell the rum on him?” returned Bailey. “On that t'other chap,
I mean? Didn't he look like a reg'lar no-account to you? And say, Ase,
didn't he remind you of somebody you'd seen somewheres--kind of, in a
way?”
They walked home in a dazed state, asking unanswerable questions and
making profitless guesses. But Asaph's final remark seemed to sum up the
situation.
“There's trouble comin' of this, Bailey,” he declared. “And it's trouble
for Cy Whittaker, I'm afraid. Poor old Cy! Well, WE'LL stand by him,
anyhow. I don't believe he'll sleep much to-night. Didn't look as though
he would, did he? Who IS that feller?”
If he had seen Captain Cy, at two o'clock the next morning, sitting
by Bos'n's bedside and gazing hopelessly at the child, he would have
realized that, if his former predictions were wiped off the slate and he
could be judged by the one concerning the captain's sleepless night, he
might thereafter pose as a true prophet.