Thankful's Inheritance Part 14

"All right, all right. I--I'm talkin' to myself, I guess. Course you told me why you come. So you're cal'latin' to start a boardin'-house, eh? Risky things, boardin'-houses are. There's a couple of hundred launched every year and not more'n ten ever make a payin' v'yage. Let's hear what your plan is, the whole of it."

Fighting down her impatience Thankful went into details concerning her plan. She explained why she had thought of it and her growing belief that it might be successful. Mr. Cobb listened.

"Humph!" he grunted, when she had finished. "So Obed Bangs advised you to try it, hey? That don't make me think no better of it, as I know of.

I know Bangs pretty well."

"Yes," dryly; "I supposed likely you did. Anyhow, he said he knew you."

"He did, hey? Told you some things about me, hey?"

"No, he didn't tell me anything except that you and he had had some dealin's. Now, Mr. Cobb, we've talked a whole lot and it don't seem to me we got anywheres. If you don't want to take a mortgage on that place--"

"Sshh! Who said I didn't want to take it? How do I know what I want to do yet? Lord! How you women do go on! Suppose I should take a mortgage on that place--mind, I don't say I will, but suppose I should--how would I know that the mortgage would be paid, or the interest, or anything?"

"If it ain't paid you can foreclose when the time comes, I presume likely. As for the interest--well, I'm fairly honest, or I try to be, and that'll be paid reg'lar if I live."

"Ya'as. Well, fur's honesty goes, I could run a seine through Ostable County any day in the week and load a schooner with honest folks; and there wouldn't nary one of 'em have cash enough to pay for the wear and tear on the net. Honesty's good policy, maybe, but it takes hard money to pay bills."

Thankful stood up.

"All right," she said, decidedly, "then I'll go where they play the honest game. And you needn't set there and weed your face any more on my account."

Mr. Cobb rose also. "There! there!" he protested. "Don't get het up. I don't say I won't take your mortgage, do I?"

"You've said a good deal. If you say any more of the same kind you can say it to yourself. I tell you, honest, I don't like the way you say it."

The owner of the "hen-house" looked as if he wished very much to retort in kind. The glare he gave his visitor prophesied direful things. But he did not retort; nor, to her surprise, did he raise his voice or order her off the premises. Instead his tone, when he spoke again, was quiet, even conciliatory.

"I--I'm sorry if I've said anything I shouldn't," he stammered. "I'm gettin' old and--and sort of short in my talk, maybe. I--I--there's a good many folks round here that don't like me, 'count of my doin'

business in a business way, 'stead of doin' it like the average poor fool. I suppose they've been talkin' to you and you've got sort of prejudiced. Well, I don't know's I blame you for that. I shan't hold no grudge. How much of a mortgage do you cal'late to want on Abner's place?"

"Two thousand dollars."

"Two thousand! . . . There, there! Hold on, hold on! Two thousand dollars is a whole lot of money. It don't grow on every bush."

"I know that as well as you do. If I did I'd have picked it afore this."

"Um--hm. How long a time do you want?"

"I don't know. Three years, perhaps."

Solomon shook his head.

"Too long," he said. "I couldn't give as long a mortgage as that to anybody. No, I couldn't do it. . . . Tell you what I will do," he added.

"I--I don't want to act mean to a relation. I think as much of relations as anybody does. I'd like to favor you and I will if I can. You give me a week to think this over in and then I'll let you know what I'll do.

That's fair, ain't it?"

Mrs. Barnes declined the offer.

"It may be fair to you," she said, "but I can't wait so long. I want to settle this afore I go back to South Middleboro. And I shall go back tomorrow, or the day after at the latest."

Another session of "weeding." Then said Mr. Cobb: "Well, all right, all right. I'll think it over and then I'll drive across to East Wellmouth, have another look at the property, and let you know. I'll see you day after tomorrow forenoon. Where you stoppin' over there?"

Thankful told him. He walked as far as the door with her.

"Hope you ain't put out with me, ma'am," he said. "I have to be kind of sharp and straight up and down in my dealin's; they'd get the weather gauge on me a dozen times a day if I wa'n't. But I'm real kind inside--to them I take a notion to. I'll--I'll treat you right--er--er--Cousin Thankful; you see if I don't. I'm real glad you come to me. Good day."

Thankful went down the path. As she reached the sidewalk she turned and looked back. The gentleman with the kind interior was standing peering at her through the cracked gla.s.s of the door. He was still tugging at his whiskers and if, as he had intimated, he had "taken a notion" to her, his expression concealed the fact wonderfully.

Captain Obed, who had evidently been on the lookout for his pa.s.senger, appeared on the platform of the store on the other side of the road.

After asking if she had any other "port of call" in that neighborhood, he a.s.sisted her into the carriage and they started on their homeward trip. The captain must have filled with curiosity concerning the widow's interview with Mr. Cobb, but beyond asking if she had seen the latter, he did not question. Thankful appreciated his reticence; the average dweller in Wellmouth--Winnie S., for instance--would have started in on a vigorous cross-examination. Her conviction that Captain Bangs was much above the average was strengthened.

"Yes," she said, "he was there. I saw him. He's a--a kind of queer person, I should say. Do you know him real well, Cap'n Bangs?"

The captain nodded. "Yes," he said, "I know him about as well as anybody outside of Trumet does. I ain't sure that anybody really knows him all the way through. Queer!" he chuckled. "Well, yes--you might say Sol Cobb was queer and you wouldn't be strainin' the truth enough to start a plank. He's all that and then consider'ble."

"What sort of a man is he?"

"Sol? Hum! Well, he's smart; anybody that beats Sol Cobb in a trade has got to get up a long ways ahead of breakfast time. Might stay up all night and then not have more leeway than he'd be liable to need."

"Yes, Yes, I'm sure he's smart in business. But is he--is he a GOOD man?"

The captain hesitated before replying.

"Git dap!" he ordered, addressing the horse. "Good? Is Sol good? Well, I cal'late that depends some on what dictionary you hunt up the word in. He's pious, sartin. There ain't many that report on deck at the meetin'-house more reg'lar than he does. He don't cal'late to miss a prayer-meetin' and when there's a revival goin' on he's right up front with the mourners. Folks do say that his favorite hymn is 'I'm Glad Salvation's Free' and they heave out consider'ble many hints that if 'twa'n't free he wouldn't have got it; but then, that's an old joke and I've heard 'em say the same thing about other people."

"But do you think he's honest?"

"I never heard of his doin' anything against the law. He'll skin honesty as close as he can, there ain't much hide left when he gets through; but I cal'late he thinks he's honest. And maybe he is--maybe he is. It all depends on the definition, same as I said. Sol's pious all right. I cal'late he'd sue anybody that had a doubt as to how many days Josiah went cabin pa.s.senger aboard the whale. His notion of Heaven may be a little mite hazy, although he'd probably lay consider'ble stress on the golden streets, but he's sot and definite about t'other place.

Yes, siree!" he added, reflectively, "Sol is sartin there's a mighty uncomf'table Tophet, and that folks who don't believe just as he does are bound there. And he don't mean to go himself, if 'tendin' up to meetin' 'll keep him clear.

"It's kind of queer to me," he went on, slowly, "to see the number of folks that make up their minds to be good--or what they call good--because they're scared to be bad. Doin' right because right IS right, and lettin' the Almighty credit 'em with that, because He's generally supposed to know it's right full well as they do--that ain't enough for their kind. They have to keep hollerin' out loud how good they are so He'll hear and won't make any mistake in bookin' their own particular pa.s.sage. Sort of takin' out a religious insurance policy, you might say 'twas. . . . Humph!" he added, coming out of his reverie and looking doubtfully at his companion, "I--I hope I ain't shocked you, ma'am. I don't mean to be irreverent, you understand. I've thought consider'ble about such things and I have funny ideas maybe."

Thankful declared that she was not shocked. She had heard but little of her driver's long dissertation. She was thinking of her interview with Mr. Cobb and the probability of his accepting her proposal and taking a mortgage on her East Wellmouth property. If he refused, what should she do then? And if he accepted and she went on to carry her plan into execution, what would be the outcome? The responsibility was heavy. She would be risking all she had in the world. If she succeeded, well and good. If she failed she would be obliged to begin all over again, to try for another position as housekeeper, perhaps to "go out nursing" once more. She was growing older; soon she would be beyond middle life and entering upon the first stages of old age. And what a lonely old age hers was likely to be! Her husband was dead; her only near relative, brother Jedediah, was--well, he might be dead also, poor helpless, dreamy incompetent. He might have died in the Klondike, providing he ever reached that far-off country, which was unlikely. He would have been but an additional burden upon her had he lived and remained at home, but he would have been company for her at least. Emily was a comfort, but she had little hope of Emily's being able to leave her school or the family which her salary as teacher helped to support. No, she must carry her project through alone, all alone.

She spoke but seldom and Captain Obed, noticing the change in her manner and possibly suspecting the cause, did his best to divert her thoughts and cheer her. He chatted continuously, like, as he declared afterwards, "a poll parrot with its bill greased." He changed the topic from Mr.

Cobb and his piety to the prospects of good fis.h.i.+ng in the spring, from that to the failure of the previous fall's cranberry crop, and from that again to Kenelm Parker and his sister Hannah. And, after a time, Thankful realized that he was telling a story.

CHAPTER VI

"Takin' other folks' advice about your own affairs," began Cap'n Obed, "is like a feller readin' patent medicine circulars to find somethin'

to cure a cold. Afore he gets through his symptoms have developed into bronchitis and pneumony, with gallopin' consumption dead ahead. You never can tell what'll happen.

"You noticed how Hannah Parker sort of riz up when Kenelm started smokin' yesterday? Yes, I know you did, 'cause you spoke of it. And you notice, too, how meek and lowly she laid down and give in when he kept right on doin' it. That ain't her usual way with Kenelm by a consider'ble sight. I told you there was quite a yarn hitched to that smokin' business. So there is.