"Well, now, Major Hardee, I don't know. Abbie ain't so well's I wish she was. She set up a spell yesterday, but the doctor says she ain't gittin' along the way she'd ought to. I says to him, s'I, 'Abbie ain't never what you'd call a reel hearty eater, but, my land! when she don't eat NOTHIN',' I says--"
And so on and so on, with the Major always willing to listen, always sympathetic, and always so charmingly courteous.
The Central House, East Harniss's sole hotel, and a very small one at that, closed its doors on April 10th. Mr. Godfrey, its proprietor, had come to the country for his health. He had been inveigled, by an advertisement in a Boston paper, into buying the Central House at East Harniss. It would afford him, so he reasoned, light employment and a living. The employment was light enough, but the living was lighter. He kept the Central House for a year. Then he gave it up as a bad job and returned to the city.
"I might keep my health if I stayed," he admitted, in explaining his position to Captain Berry, "but if I want to keep to what little money I have left, I'd better go. Might as well die of disease as starvation."
Everyone expected that the "gentleman of the old school" would go also, but one evening Abner Payne, whose business is "real estate, fire and life insurance, justice of the peace, and houses to let and for sale," rushed into the post office to announce that the Major had leased the "Gorham place," furnished, and intended to make East Harniss his home.
"He likes the village so well he's goin' to stay here always," explained Abner. "Says he's been all 'round the world, but he never see a place he liked so well's he does East Harniss. How's that for high, hey? And you callin' it a one-horse town, Obed Gott!"
The Major moved into the "Gorham place" the next morning. It--the "place"--was an old-fashioned house on the hill, though not on Mr. Williams' "Boulevard." It had been one of the finest mansions in town once on a time, but had deteriorated rapidly since old Captain Elijah Gorham died. Augustus carried the Major's baggage from the hotel to the house. This was done very early and none of the natives saw the transfer. There was some speculation as to how the darky managed to carry the big trunk single-handed; one of two persons asked Augustus this very question, but they received no satisfactory answer. Augustus was habitually close-mouthed. Mr. Godfrey left town that same morning on the first train.
The Major christened his new home "Silver-leaf Hall," because of two great "silver-leaf" trees that stood by the front door. He had some repairing, paper hanging and painting done, ordered a big stock of groceries from the local dealer, and showed by his every action that his stay in East Harniss was to be a lengthy one. He hired a pew in the Methodist church, and joined the "club."
Augustus did the marketing for "Silver-leaf Hall," and had evidently been promoted to the position of housekeeper.
The Major moved in April. It was now the third week in June and his popularity was, if possible, more pronounced than ever. On this particular, the evening of Captain Bailey Stitt's unexpected arrival, Obed had been sitting by the tea table in his dining room after supper, going over the account books of his paint, paper, and oil store. His sister, Mrs. Polena Ginn, was washing dishes in the kitchen.
"Wat's that letter you're readin', Obed?" she called from her post by the sink.
"Nothin'," said her brother, gruffly, crumpling up the sheet of note paper and jamming it into his pocket.
"My sakes! you're shorter'n pie crust to-night. What's the matter?
Anything gone wrong at the store?"
"No."
Silence again, only broken by the clatter of dishes. Then Polena said:
"Obed, when are you goin' to take me up to the clubroom so's I can see that picture of Major Hardee that he presented the club with?
Everybody says it's just lovely. Sarah T. says it's perfectly elegant, only not quite so handsome as the Major reelly is. She says it don't flatter him none."
"Humph! Anybody'd think Hardee was some kind of a wonder, the way you women folks go on 'bout him. How do you know but what he might be a reg'lar fraud? Looks ain't everything."
"Well, I never! Obed Gott, I should think you'd be 'shamed of yourself, talkin' that way. I shan't speak another word to you to-night. I never see you act so unlikely. An old fraud! The idea!
That grand, noble man!"
Obed tried to make some sort of half-hearted apology, but his sister wouldn't listen to it. Polena's dignity was touched. She was a woman of consequence in East Harniss, was Polena. Her husband had, at his death, left her ten thousand dollars in her own right, and she owned bonds and had money in the Wellmouth Bank.
Nobody, not even her brother, was allowed to talk to her in that fashion.
To tell the truth, Obed was sorry he had offended his sister. He had been throwing out hints of late as to the necessity of building an addition to the paint and oil store, and had cast a longing look upon a portion of Polena's ten thousand. The lady had not promised to extend the financial aid, but she had gone so far as to say she would think about it. So Obed regretted his insinuations against the Major's integrity.
After a while he threw the account books upon the top of the chest of drawers, put on his hat and coat and announced that he was going over to the depot for a "spell." Polena did not deign to reply, so, after repeating the observation, he went out and slammed the door.
Now, two hours later, as he stood in the doorway of the club, he was debating what he should do in a certain matter. That matter concerned Major Hardee and was, therefore, an extremely delicate one. At length Mr. Gott climbed the narrow stairs and entered the clubroom. It was blue with tobacco smoke.
