Discomfort roused Duncan from his rest at an early hour, the morning
following his arrival in Radville. I must confess that the beds in the
Bigelow House are no better than they should be; in fact, according to
Duncan, not so good. Duncan ought to know; he has slept in one of them,
or tried to; a trial thus far to me denied. From what he has said,
however, I shudder to think what will become of me should I ever lose
the shelter of Miss Carpenter's second-story front and be thrown out
into a heartless world to choose between the Bigelow House and Frank
Tannehill's Radville Inn....
Duncan arose and consulted the two-dollar watch which he had left on
the pine washstand by the window. It was half-past seven o'clock, and
that seemed early to him. He was tired and would willingly have turned
in again, but a rueful glance at the couch of his night-long vigil
sufficed him. He lifted a hand to Heaven and vowed solemnly: "Never
again!"
As he bent over the washstand and poured a cupful of water into the
china basin, thus emptying the pitcher, he was conscious of a pain in
his back; but a thought cheered him. "They must have decent stables in
this town," he considered, brightening. "The haymows for mine, after
this."
He dressed with scrupulous care, mindful of Kellogg's parting words,
the sense of which was that first impressions were most important. "All
the same," Duncan thought, "I don't believe they count in a dead-and-
alive place like this. There's no one here with sufficient animation to
realise I'm in town." This shows how little he understood our little
community. A day of enlightenment was in store for him.
Pansy Murphy was scrubbing out the office when he came down for
breakfast. She is large, of what is known as a full complexion,
good-hearted and energetic. His pause at the foot of the stairs, as he
surveyed in dismay the seven seas of soapy water that occupied the
floor, aroused her. She sat back suddenly on her heels and looked her
fill of him, with her blue Irish eyes very wide, and her mouth a trap.
He bowed politely. Pansy saved herself from falling over backwards by a
supreme effort, scrubbed her hair out of her eyes with a very wet hand,
and gave him "Good-marrin', Misther Dooncan," in a brogue as rich as
you could wish for.