Mrs. Beasley, whether she heard or not, did not deign to reply.
"Get my horn out of that carriage," she ordered. "Don"t stand there gapin". Get it."
The ear trumpet was resurrected from the interior of the vehicle. The widow adjusted it with dignity.
"Had a spill, didn"t you, Debby?" inquired the blacksmith. "Upset, didn"t you?"
Debby glared at him.
"No," she replied with sarcasm. "Course I didn"t upset! Just thought I"d roll round in the road for the fun of it. Smart question, that is!
Where"s that Bailey Bangs gone to with the rest of my carriage?"
The blacksmith pointed to his shop in the hollow. Before it stood Mr.
Bangs, holding Henry by the bridle, and staring in their direction.
"He"s all right," volunteered the "helper." "The horse stopped runnin"
soon"s he got to the foot of the next hill."
Mrs. Beasley was not, apparently, overjoyed at the news.
"Humph!" she grunted. "I "most wish he"d broke his neck! Pesky, careless thing! gettin" us run away with and upset. Who"s goin" to pay for fixin"
my sulky, I want to know?"
"Mr. Bangs will pay for it, I"m sure," said Phoebe soothingly. "If he doesn"t, I will. Oh, Mrs. Beasley! did you find the diary?"
"Diary? No, no! I told you I was afraid I"d burnt it up. Well, I had, and a whole lot more of them old ones. But I did get all them Arizona papers, and took the trouble to tote "em all the way here so"s you could look at "em. And now"--she shook with indignation and waved her hand toward a section of horizon where little white dots indicated the whereabouts of the Couriers--"now look where they be! Blowed from Dan to Beersheby! Come on to the house and let me set down. I been standin" on my head till I"m tired. Here, Jabez," to the blacksmith, "you tend to that carriage, will you?"
She stalked off down the hill. The schoolmistress turning to follow her, caught a glimpse of the "helper" doubled up with silent laughter, and the blacksmith grinning broadly as he stooped toward the capsized sulky.
Phoebe was downcast and disappointed. She was convinced, in her own mind, that the Honorable Atkins had some hidden motive for his espousal of the Thomas cause. Asaph"s fruitless quest in Orham had not shaken her faith. Captain Cy had refused to seek Debby Beasley for information concerning the Thayers, and so she, on her own responsibility, had done so. And this was the ridiculous ending of her journey. The diary had been a forlorn hope; now that was burned. Poor Bos"n! and poor--some one else!
Debby marching down the hill, continued to sputter about the lost weeklies.
"It"s an everlastin" shame!" she declared. "I"d just found the one with that advertis.e.m.e.nt in it and was readin" it. I remember the part I read, plain as could be. While we"re eatin" dinner I"ll tell you about it."
But Miss Dawes did not care for dinner. Like Mr. Tidditt and the captain, she had had about all the Debby Beasley she wanted.
"Yes, yes, you will stop, too," affirmed the widow. "I want to tell you more about Blazeton. I can see that advertis.e.m.e.nt this minute, right afore my eyes--"Information wanted of my husband, Edward Higgins. Five foot eight inches tall, sandy complected, brown hair, and yellowish mustache; not lame, but has a peculiar slight limp with his left foot--""
"What?" asked the schoolmistress, stopping short.
"Hey? "Has a peculiar limp with his left foot." I remember how Desire used to talk about that limp. She said "twas almost as if he stuttered with his leg. He hurt it when he was up in Montana, and--"
"Oh!" cried Miss Dawes. The color had left her face.
"Yes. You see he used to be a miner or somethin" up there. He"d never say much about his younger days, but one time he did tell that. I"d just got as far as that limp when the sulky upset. Talk about bein"
surprised! I never was so surprised in my life as when that horse critter rared up and--"
Phoebe interrupted. Her color had come back, and her eyes were shining.
"Mrs. Beasley," she cried, "I think I shall change my mind. I believe I will stay to dinner after all. I"m EVER so much interested in Arizona."
Bailey and the teacher began their long drive home about four o"clock.
The buggy axle had been fixed, and the wind was less violent. Mr. Bangs was glum and moody. He seemed to be thinking.
"Say, teacher," he said at length, "I"d like to ask a favor of you. If it ain"t necessary, I wish you wouldn"t say nothin" about that upsettin"
business to the folks to home. It does sound so dum foolish! I"ll never hear the last of it."
Miss Dawes, who had been in high spirits, now took a moment for reflection.
"All right!" she said, nodding vigorously. "We won"t mention it, then.
We won"t tell a soul. You can say that I called at the Atwoods", if you want to; that will be true, because I did. And we"ll have Mrs. Beasley for our secret--yours and mine--until we decide to tell. It"s a bargain, Mr. Bangs. We must shake hands on it."
They shook hands, and Bailey, looking in her face, thought he never saw her look so well or as young. She was pretty, he decided. Then he thought of his own choice of a wife, and--well, if he had any regrets, he hasn"t mentioned them, not even to his fellow-member of the Board of Strategy.
CHAPTER XVII
THE CAPTAIN REMEMBERS HIS AGE
December was nearly over. Christmas had come. Bos"n had hung up her stocking by the base-burner stove, and found it warty and dropsical the next morning, with a generous overflow of gifts piled on the floor beneath it. The Board of Strategy sent presents; so did Miss Dawes and Georgianna. As for Captain Cy he spent many evening hours, after the rest of his household was in bed, poring over catalogues of toys and books, and the orders he sent to the big shops in Boston were lengthy and costly. The little girl"s eyes opened wide when she saw the stocking and the treasures heaped on the floor. She sat in her "nighty" amidst the wonders, books, and playthings in a circle about her, and the biggest doll of all hugged close in her arms. Captain Cy, who had arisen at half past five in order to be with her on the great occasion, was at least as happy as she.
"Like "em, do you?" he asked, smiling.
"like "em! O Uncle Cy! What makes everybody so good to me?"
"I don"t know. Strange thing, ain"t it--considerin" what a hard little ticket you are."
Bos"n laughed. She understood her "Uncle Cy," and didn"t mind being called a "hard ticket" by him.
"I--I--didn"t believe anybody COULD have such a nice Christmas. I never saw so many nice things."
"Humph! What do you like best?"
The answer was a question, and was characteristic.
"Which did you give me?" asked Bos"n.
The captain would have dodged, but she wouldn"t let him. So one by one the presents he had given were indicated and put by themselves. The remainder were but few, but she insisted that the givers of these should be named. When the sorting was over she sat silently hugging her doll and, apparently, thinking.
"Well?" inquired the amused captain. "Made up your mind yet? Which do you like best?"
The child nodded.
"Why, these, of course," she declared with emphasis, pointing with her dollie"s slippered foot at Captain Cy"s pile.