"So this is her, hey?" he muttered musingly. "Humph! Well, Idon't know as I'd have guessed it. Favors the other side of the house more--the respectable side, I should say. Still, there's a little brand of the lost sheep, hey? Enough to prove property, huh? Mark of the beast, I s'pose the psalm-singin' relations would call it. D--n em! I--""Steady!" broke in the captain. Mr. Smith started, seemed to remember where he was, and his manner changed.
"Come and see me, honey," he coaxed, drawing the girl toward him by the hand he was holding. "Ain't you got a nice kiss for me this fine mornin'? Don't be scared. I won't bite."Bos'n looked shrinkingly at Mr. Smith's unshaven cheeks and then at Captain Cy. The latter's face was absolutely devoid of expression.
He merely nodded.
So Emily kissed one of the bristling cheeks. The kiss was returned full upon the mouth. She wiped her lips and darted away to her chair by the table.
"What's your hurry?" inquired the visitor. "Don't I do it right?
Been some time since I kissed a girl--a little one, anyhow," he added, winking at his host. "Never mind, we'll know each other better by and by."He looked on in wondering disgust as Bos'n said her "grace.""What in blazes!" he burst out when the little blessing was finished. "Who put her up to that? A left-over from the psalm-singers, is it?"
"I don't know," answered the captain, speaking with deliberation.
"I do know that I like to have her do it and that she shall do it as long's she's at this table.""Oh! she shall, hey? Well, I reckon--"
"She shall--AS LONG AS SHE'S AT THIS TABLE. Is that real plain and understandable, or shall I write it down?"There was an icy clearness in the captain's tone which seemed to freeze further conversation on the part of Mr. Smith. He merely grunted and ate his breakfast in silence. He ate a great deal and ate it rapidly.
Bos'n departed for school when the meal was over. Captain Cy helped her on with her coat and hood. Then, as he always did of late, he kissed her good-by.
"Hi!" called Mr. Smith from the sitting room. "Ain't I in on that?
If there's any kisses goin' I want to take a hand before the deal's over.""Must I?" whispered Bos'n pleadingly. "Must I, Uncle Cy? I don't want to. I don't like him.""Come on!" called Mr. Smith. "I'm gettin' over my bashfulness fast. Hurry up!""Must I kiss him, Uncle Cyrus?" whispered Bos'n. "MUST I?""No!" snapped the captain sharply. "Trot right along now, dearie.
Be a good girl. Good-by."
He entered the sitting room. His guest had found the Sunday box and was lighting one of his host's cigars.
"Well," he inquired easily, "what's next on the bill? Anything goin' on in this forsaken hole?""There's a barber shop down the road. You might go there first, Ishould say. Not that you need it, but just as a novelty like.""Humph! I don't know. What's the matter with your razor?""Nothin'. At least I ain't found anything wrong with it yet.""Oh! Say, look here! you're a queer guy, you are. I ain't got you right in my mind yet. One minute butter wouldn't melt in your mouth, and the next you're fresh as a new egg. What IS your little game, anyway? You've got one, so don't tell me you ain't."Captain Cy was plainly embarrassed. He gazed at the "Shore to Shore" picture on the wall as he answered.
"No game about it," he said. "Last night you and I agreed that nothin' was to be said for a few days. You was to stay here and I'd try to make you comfort'ble, that's all. Then we'd see about that other matter, settle on a fair price, and--""Yes, I know. That's all right. But you're too willin'. There's something else. Say!" The ugly scowl was in evidence again.
"Say, look here, you! you ain't got somethin' up your sleeve, have you? There ain't somethin' more that I don't know about, is there?
No more secrets than that--"
"No! You hear me? No! You'll get your rights, and maybe a little more than your rights, if you're decent. And it'll pay you to be decent.""Humph!" Mr. Smith seemed to be thinking. Then he added, looking up keenly under his brows: "How about the--the incumbrance on the property? Of course, when I go I'll have to take that with me, and--"Captain Cy interrupted.
"There! there!" he exclaimed, and there was a shake in his voice, "there! there! Don't let's talk about such things now. I--I--Let's wait a spell. We'll have some more plans to make, maybe. If you want to use my razor it's right in that drawer. Just help yourself."The visitor laughed aloud. He nodded as if satisfied. "Ho! ho!"he chuckled. "I see! Humph! yes--I see. The fools ain't all dead, and there's none to beat an old one. Well! well! All right, pard! I guess you and me'll get along fine. I've changed my mind;I WILL go to the barber shop, after all. Only I'm a little shy of dust just at present. So, to oblige a friend, maybe you'll hand over, huh?"The captain reached into his pocket, extracted a two-dollar bill, and passed it to the speaker. Mr. Smith smiled and shook his head.
"You can't come in on that, pard," he said. "The limit's five."Captain Cy took back the bill and exchanged it for one with a V in each corner. The visitor took it and turned toward the door.
"Ta! ta!" he said, taking his hat from the peg in the dining room.
"I'm off for the clippers. When I come back I'll be the sweetest little Willie in the diggin's. So long."Bos'n and the captain sat down to the dinner at noon alone. Mr. Smith had not returned from his trip to the barber's. He came in, however, just before the meal was over, still in an unshorn condition, somewhat flushed and very loquacious.
"Say!" he exclaimed genially. "That Simpson's the right sort, ain't he? Him and me took a shine to each other from the go-off.
