Galusha the Magnificent Part 55

"I--I--Well, you see--you see--"

"No, I don't see. Now, look here, old man: I realize you're of age and that your money is your own, and all that. It isn't, legally speaking, one single bit my business if you take every cent you've got and sink it in the middle of Cape Cod Bay. But I promised your aunt before she died that I would try and see that you didn't do that kind of thing. She knew you couldn't take care of money; I knew it; why, confound it, you knew it, too! You and I talked that whole matter over and we agreed I wasn't to give you any large sums of your money, no matter how hard you begged for them, unless you told me why you wanted them and I was satisfied it was all right. Didn't we agree to that? Isn't that so?"

"Why--why, yes, Cousin Gussie. You have been very kind. I appreciate it, I a.s.sure you."

"Oh, be hanged! I haven't been kind. I've only been trying to keep you from being TOO kind to people who work you for a good thing, that's all.

Look here, Loosh: _I_ know what you've done with that thirteen thousand dollars."

Galusha shot one more pitiful glance in the direction of the kitchen.

"Ah--ah--do you?" he stammered.

"Yes. You've given it away, haven't you?"

"Well--well, you see--"

"You have? I knew it! And I know whom you've given it to."

There was no answer to be made to this appalling a.s.sertion. Poor Galusha merely clung to the receiver and awaited his death sentence.

"You've given it to some mummy-hunter to fit out another grave-robbing expedition. Now, haven't you?"

"Why--why--"

"Be a sport now, Loos.h.!.+ Tell me the truth. That's what you've done, isn't it?"

Galusha hesitated, closing his eyes, struggled with his better nature, conquered it, and faltered: "Why--why--in a way of speaking, I suppose--"

"I knew it! I bet Minor a dinner on it. Well, confound you, Loosh; don't you realize they're only working you for what they can get out of you?

Haven't I told you not to be such an a.s.s? You soft-headed old... Here!

What's the matter with this wire? h.e.l.lo, Central! h.e.l.lo!..."

The Cabot oration broke off in the middle and was succeeded by a series of rattles and thumps and jingles like a barrel of kitchenware falling downstairs; this was followed by a startling stillness, which was, in turn, broken by an aggrieved voice wailing: "Say, Central, why can't I get that twenty-seven ring fourteen Bayport? I bet you you've given me every other d----number on Cape Cod!"

Galusha hung up the receiver. Then he sat down in the rocker and gazed at the opposite wall. His secret was safe. But that safety he had bought at the price of another falsehood--told to Cousin Gussie this time.

He did not seem to be the same Galusha Cabot Bangs at all. That Galusha--the former Galusha--had considered himself a gentleman and would no more have told a lie than he would have stolen his neighbor's spoons. This one--his present self--lied not only once but twice and thrice. He told one untruth to cover another. He lived in an atmosphere of blackest falsehood and deception. The sole ray of light in the darkness was the knowledge that Martha Phipps did not know his real character. She considered him honest and truthful. In order that she might continue to think him so, he would go on prevaricating forever, if necessary.

It preyed upon his conscience, nevertheless. The thought uppermost in his mind was expressed in a reply which he made to a question asked by Mr. Bloomer on an afternoon of that week. Zach and Primmie were, as so often happened, involved in an argument and, as also so often happened, they called on him to act as referee.

"We was talkin' about names, Mr. Bangs," explained Primmie. "He's always makin' fun of my name. I told him my name was pretty enough to get put into poetry sometimes. You know--"

"I told her," broke in Zach, solemnly, but with a wink at Galusha, "that the only thing I could think of to rhyme with 'Primrose' was 'Jim Crows.'"

"I never said it rhymed," protested Miss Cash, hotly. "You can have your name in poetry without its rhymin', I guess likely. You're always tellin' me about how 'Zacheus he, climbed up a tree--' Now if your name had to rhyme 'twould have to be--er--er--well, nothing'," triumphantly; "'cause nothin' COULD rhyme with Zacheus."

Mr. Bloomer, solemn as ever, shook his head.

"Yes, it could," he declared. "What's the name of that plant Lulie's got in the settin' room window over home? The one with the p.r.i.c.kers on it.

Cat-tailed--no, rat-tailed--um--"

"Cactus." Galusha supplied the word.

"That's it," said Zach. "That would do it.

'Old man Zach'us s.h.i.+nned up a cactus--'

Have to step lively, wouldn't he?" he added, with a chuckle.

Primmie sniffed. "Silly!" she retorted. "What was that pretty piece of poetry you told me the other day that had my name in it, Mr. Bangs? The one about it bein' so and so and not much else? You know the one."

Galusha obliged.

"'A primrose by the river's brim A yellow primrose was to him, And it was nothing more.'"

"There!" said Primmie, triumphantly. "Do you hear that, Zach Bloomer?

That's poetry, the real kind. And it's got my name in it, too."

Zach shook his head.

"You ain't a yellow primrose, Posy," he said. "You're a red one-red and speckled. Mr. Bangs," he added, before the outraged Primmie could reply, "I think consider'ble about names, havin' such a out-of-common sort of a one myself. I never heard your name afore.... Galusha.... G.o.dfreys! Was you named for somebody in the family?"

"Yes."

"I see. Yes, yes. Most generally names like that, the tough ones, come out of the Bible in the fust place. Is your name in Scriptur'

anywheres?"

"I don't know. I--ah--presume I should, but I don't."

"Um-hm. Queer names in the Bible.... Um-hm. And some good ones, too....

I've always been a good deal interested in names. Used to set around hours at a stretch, when I was aboard the old lights.h.i.+p, and try to pick out what name in Scriptur' I cal'lated I'd ruther be called. Finally I got down to two--John and Paul. Both of 'em short and sensible, no frills to 'em. Of the two I figgered maybe Paul would fit me best. Paul, he was s.h.i.+pwrecked one time, you remember, and I've been wrecked no less'n three.... Paul.... Um-hm.... Say, Mr. Bangs, have you ever tried to fit yourself with a Bible name?"

Galusha smiled and said he never had. Primmie, who had been silent for almost three minutes, could remain so no longer.

"I think Solomon would be the right name for you, Mr. Bangs," she cried, enthusiastically. "You know such a terrible lot--about some kinds of things." This last a hasty addition.

Zach snorted. "Solomon!" he repeated. "Dan Beebe--Ras Beebe's cousin over to Trumet--named his boy Solomon, and last week they took the young-one up to the State home for feeble-minded. What name would you pick out of the Bible for yourself, Mr. Bangs?"

It was then that Galusha made the reply to which reference has been made. His smile changed and became what Primmie described as "one of his one-sided ones."

"Ah--um--well--Ananias, perhaps," he said, and walked away.

Zach and Miss Cash stared after him. Of course, it was the latter who spoke first.

"Ananias!" she repeated. "Why, Ananias was the feller that--that lied so and was struck down dead. I remember him in Sunday school. Him and his wife Sophrony. Seems to me 'twas Sophrony; it might have been Maria, though. But, anyhow, they died lyin'."