Everybody was awful kind to her, and we got to be real good friends. Why, I--"This was but the beginning. It was evident that Mrs. Beasley had thoroughly enjoyed herself in Blazeton, and that the sorrows of the bereaved Desire Higgins had been one of the principal sources of that enjoyment. The schoolmistress endeavored to turn the subject, but it was useless.
"I fetched home a whole pile of them newspapers," continued Debby.
"They was awful interestin'; full of pictures of Blazeton buildin's and leadin' folks and all. And in some of the back numbers was the advertisement about Mr. Higgins. I do wish I could show 'em to you, but I lent 'em to Mrs. Atwood up to the Center. If 'twan't such a ways I'd go and fetch 'em. Mrs. Atwood's been awful nice to me. She took care of my trunks and things when I went West--yes, and afore that when I went to Bayport to keep house for that miser'ble Cap'n Whittaker. I ain't told you about that, but I will by and by. Them trunks had lots of things in 'em that I didn't want to lose nor have anybody see. My diaries--I've kept a diary since 1850--and--""Diaries?" interrupted Phoebe, grasping at straws. "Did you keep a diary while you were at the Thayers?""Yes. Now, why didn't I think of that afore? More'n likely there'd be somethin' in that to help you with that geographical tree. I used to put down everything that happened, and-- Where you goin'?"Miss Dawes had risen and was peering out of the window.
"I was looking to see if my driver was anywhere about," she replied. "I thought perhaps he would drive over to Mrs. Atwood's and get the diary for you. But I don't see him."Just then, from around the corner of the house, peeped an agitated face; an agitated forefinger beckoned. Debby stepped to the window beside her visitor, and the face and finger went out of sight as if pulled by a string.
Miss Phoebe smiled.
"I think I'll go out and look for him," she said. "He must be near here. I'll be right back, Mrs. Beasley."Without stopping to put on her jacket, she hurried through the dining room, out of the door, and around the corner. There she found Mr. Bangs in a highly nervous state.
"Why didn't you tell me 'twas Debby Beasley you was comin' to see?"he demanded. "If you'd mentioned that deef image's name you'd never got ME to drive you, I tell you that!""Yes," answered the teacher sweetly. "I imagined that. That's why I didn't tell you, Mr. Bangs. Now I want you to do me a favor.
Will you drive over to Trumet Center, and deliver a note and get a package for me? Then you can come back here, and I shall be ready to start for home.""Drive! Drive nothin'! The blacksmith's out, and won't be back for another hour. His boy's there, but he's a big enough lunkhead to try bailin' out a dory with a fork, and that buggy axle is bent so it's simply got to be fixed. I'd no more go home to Ketury with that buggy as 'tis than I'd-- Oh! my land of love!"The ejaculation was almost a groan. There at the corner, ear trumpet adjusted, and spectacles glistening, stood Debby Beasley.
Bailey appeared to wilt under her gaze as if the spectacles were twin suns. Miss Dawes looked as if she very much wanted to laugh.
The widow stared in silence.
"How--how d'ye do, Mrs. Beasley?" faltered Mr. Bangs, not forgetting to raise his voice. "I hope you're lookin' as well as you feel. I mean, I hope you're smart."Mrs. Beasley nodded decisively.
"Yes," she answered. "I'm pretty toler'ble, thank you. What was the matter, Mr. Bangs? Why didn't you come in? Do you usually make your calls round the corner?"The gentleman addressed seemed unable to reply. The schoolmistress came to the rescue.
"You mustn't blame Mr. Bangs, Mrs. Beasley," she explained. "He wasn't responsible for what happened at Captain Whittaker's. He is the gentleman who drove me over here. I was going to send him to Mrs. Atwood's for the diary.""Who said I was blamin' him?" queried the widow. "If 'twas that little Tidditt thing I might feel different. But, considerin' that I got this horn from Mr. Bangs, I'm willin' to let bygones be past.
It helps my hearin' a lot. Them ear-fixin's was good while they lasted, but they got out of kilter quick. _I_ shan't bother Mr. Bangs. If he can square his own conscience, I'm satisfied."Bailey's conscience was not troubling him greatly, and he seemed relieved. Phoebe told of the damaged buggy.
"Humph!" grunted the widow. "The horse didn't get bent, too, did he?"Mr. Bangs indignantly declared that the horse was all right.
"Um--hum. Well, then, I guess I can supply a carriage. My fust cousin Ezra that died used to be doctor here, and he give me his sulky when he got a new one. It's out in the barn. Go fetch your horse, and harness him in. I'll be ready time the harnessin's done.""You?" gasped the teacher. "You don't need to go, Mrs. Beasley. Iwouldn't think of giving you that trouble."
"No trouble at all. I wouldn't trust nobody else with them trunks.
And besides, I always do enjoy ridin'. You could go, too, Miss Dorcas, but the sulky seat's too narrer for three. You can set in the settin' room till we get back. 'Twon't take us long. Don't say another word; I'm A-GOIN'."
