Galusha the Magnificent Part 14

"What did you say your business--your profession was, Mr. Bangs?"

"I am an archaeologist, Miss Phipps."

"Oh!"

He went to his room soon afterwards. Martha went into the dining room.

A suspicious rustle as she turned the door k.n.o.b caused her to frown.

Primmie was seated close to the wall on the opposite side of the room industriously peeling apples. Her mistress regarded her intently, a regard which caused its object to squirm in her chair.

"It's--it's a kind of nice night, ain't it, Miss Martha?" she observed.

Miss Martha did not answer. "Primmie Cash," she said, severely, "you've been listen in' again. Don't deny it."

"Now--now Miss Martha, I didn't mean to, really, but--"

"Do you want to go back to the Mashpaug poorhouse again?"

"No'm. You know I don't, Miss Martha. I didn't mean to do it, but I heard him talkin' and it was SO interestin'. That about the camel stealin' his s.h.i.+rt--my soul! And--"

"If you listen again I WILL send you back; I mean it."

"I won't, ma'am. I won't. Now--"

"Be still. Where is our dictionary? It isn't in the closet with the other books where it ought to be. Do you know where it is?"

"No'm.... Yes'm, come to think of it, I do. Lulie Hallet borrowed it the other day. Her and Zach Bloomer was havin' a lot of talk about how to spell somethin' and Lulie she got our dictionary so's to settle it--and Zach. I'll fetch it back to-morrow mornin'.... But what do you want the dictionary for, Miss Martha?"

Martha shook her head, with the air of one annoyed by a puzzle the answer to which should be familiar.

"I'm goin' to find out what an archaeologist is," she declared. "I ought to know, but I declare I don't."

"An arky-what? Oh, that's what that little Mr. Bangs said he was, didn't he? You know what _I_ think he is, Miss Martha?"

"No, I don't. You go to bed, Primmie."

"_I_ think he's an undertaker."

"Undertaker! Good heavens and earth, what put that in your head?"

"Everything. Look at them clothes he wears, black tail-coat and white s.h.i.+rt and stand-up collar and all. Just exactly same as Emulous Dodd wears when he's runnin' a funeral. Yes, and more'n that--more'n that, Miss Martha. Didn't you hear what he said just now about 'remains'?"

"WHAT?"

"Didn't you ask him what he went traipsin' off to that--that camel place for? And didn't he say there was some interestin' remains there. Uh-hm!

that's what he said--'remains.' If he ain't an undertaker what--"

Martha burst out laughing. "Primmie," she said, "go to bed. And don't forget to get that dictionary to-morrow mornin'."

The next day was Sunday and the weather still fine. Galusha Bangs was by this time feeling very much stronger. Miss Phipps commented upon his appearance at breakfast time.

"I declare," she exclaimed, "you look as if you'd really had a good night's rest, Mr. Bangs. Now you'll have another biscuit and another egg, won't you?"

Galusha, who had already eaten one egg and two biscuits, was obliged to decline. His hostess seemed to think his appet.i.te still asleep.

After breakfast he went out for a walk. There was a brisk, cool wind blowing and Miss Martha cautioned him against catching cold. She insisted upon his wrapping a scarf of her own, m.u.f.fler fas.h.i.+on, about his neck beneath his coat collar and lent him a pair of mittens--they were Primmie's property--to put on in case his hands were cold. He had one kid glove in his pocket, but only one.

"Dear me!" he said. "I can't think what became of the other. I'm quite certain I had two to begin with."

Martha laughed. "I'm certain of that myself," she said. "I never heard of anybody's buying gloves one at a time."

Her guest smiled. "It might be well for me to buy them that way," he observed. "My brain doesn't seem equal to the strain of taking care of more than one."

Primmie and her mistress watched him from the window as he meandered out of the yard. Primmie made the first remark.

"There now, Miss Martha," she said, "DON'T he look like an undertaker?

Them black clothes and that standin' collar and--and--the kind of still way he walks--and talks. Wouldn't you expect him to be sayin': 'The friends of the diseased will now have a chanct to--'"

"Oh, be still, Primmie, for mercy sakes!"

"Yes'm. What thin little legs he's got, ain't he?" Miss Phipps did not reply to her housemaid's criticism of the Bangs limbs. Instead, she made an observation of her own.

"Where in the world did he get that ugly, brown, stiff hat?" she demanded. "It doesn't look like anything that ever grew on land or sea."

Primmie hitched up her ap.r.o.n strings, a habit she had.

"'Twould have been a better job," she observed, "if that camel thing he was tellin' you about had stole that hat instead of his other s.h.i.+rt.

Don't you think so, Miss Martha?"

Meanwhile Galusha, ignorant of the comments concerning his appearance, was strolling blithely along the road. His first idea had been to visit the lighthouse, his next to walk to the village. He had gone but a short distance, however, when another road branching off to the right suggested itself as a compromise. He took the branch road.

It wound in and out among the little hills which he had noticed from the windows and from the yard of the Phipps' house. It led past a little pond, hidden between two of those hills. Then it led to the top of another hill, the highest so far, and from that point Galusha paused to look about him.

From the hilltop the view was much the same, but more extensive. The ocean filled the whole eastern horizon, a s.h.i.+mmering, moving expanse of blue and white, with lateral stretches of light and dark green. To the south were higher hills, thickly wooded. Between his own hill and those others was a small grove of pines and, partially hidden by it, a weather-beaten building with a steeple, its upper half broken off. The building, Galusha guessed, was an abandoned church. Now an old church in the country suggested, naturally, an old churchyard. Toward the building with half a steeple Mr. Bangs started forthwith.

There WAS a churchyard, an ancient, gra.s.s-grown burying ground, with slate gravestones and weather-worn tombs. There were a few new stones, gleaming white and conspicuous, but only a few. Galusha's trained eye, trained by his unusual pastime of college days, saw at once that the oldest stones must date from early colonial times. Very likely there might be some odd variations of the conventional carvings, almost certainly some quaint and interesting inscriptions. It would, of course, be but tame sport for one of the world's leading Egyptologists, but to Galusha Cabot Bangs research was research, and while some varieties were better than others, none was bad. A moment later he was on his knees before the nearest gravestone. It was an old stone and the inscription and carving were interesting. Time paused there and then for Galusha.

What brought him from the dead past to the living present was the fact that his hat blew off. The particular stone which he was examining at the moment was on the top of a little knoll and, as Galusha clambered up and stooped, the breeze, which had increased in force until it was a young gale, caught the brown derby beneath its brim and sent it flying.

He scrambled after it, but it dodged his clutch and rolled and bounded on. He bounded also, but the hat gained. It caught for an instant on the weather side of a tombstone, but just as he was about to pick it up, a fresh gust sent it sailing over the obstacle. It was dashed against the side of the old church and then carried around the end of the building and out of sight. Its owner plunged after it and, a moment later, found himself at the foot of a gra.s.s-covered bank, a good deal disheveled and very much surprised. Also, close at hand some one screamed, in a feminine voice, and another voice, this one masculine, uttered an emphatically masculine exclamation.

Galusha sat up. The old church was placed upon a side-hill, its rear toward the cemetery which he had just been exploring, and its front door on a level at least six feet lower. He, in his wild dash after the brown derby, had not noticed this and, rus.h.i.+ng around the corner, had been precipitated down the bank. He was not hurt, but he was rumpled and astonished. No more astonished, however, than were the young couple who had been sitting upon the church steps and were now standing, staring down at him.

Galusha spoke first.

"Oh, dear!" he observed. "Dear me!" Then he added, by way of making the situation quite clear, "I must have fallen, I think."

Neither of the pair upon the church steps seemed to have recovered sufficiently to speak, so Mr. Bangs went on.

"I--I came after my hat," he explained. "You see--Oh, there it is!"