The number of reasons given by Mr. Bangs one after the other, to prove that it would be quite impossible for him to be Mrs.
Beasley's charioteer was a credit to the resources of his invention. The blacksmith might be back any minute; it was dinner time, and he was hungry; Henry, the horse, was tired; it wasn't a nice day for riding, and he would come over some other time and take the widow out; he-- But Debby had a conclusive answer for each protest.
"You said yourself the blacksmith wouldn't be back for an hour,"she observed. "And you can leave word with the boy what he's to do when he does come. As for dinner, I'll be real glad to give you and Miss Dorcas a snack soon's we get back. I don't mind if it ain't a pleasant day; a little fresh air 'll do me good. I been shut up here house-cleanin' ever since I got back from out West.
Now, hurry right along, and fetch your horse. I'll unlock the barn.""But, Mrs. Beasley," put in the schoolmistress, "why couldn't you give us a note to Mrs. Atwood and let us stop for the diary on our way home? I could return it to you by mail. Or you might get it yourself some other day and mail it to me.""No, no! Never put off till to-morrer what you can do to-day. My husband was a great hand to put off and put off. For the last eight years of his life I was at him to buy a new go-to-meetin' suit of clothes. The one he had was blue to start with, but it faded to a brown, and, toward the last of it, I declare if it didn't commence to turn green. Nothin' I could say would make him heave it away even then. Seemed to think more of it than ever.
Said he wanted to hang to it a spell and see what 'twould turn next. But he died and was laid out in that same suit, and I was so mortified at the funeral I couldn't think of nothin' else. No, I'll go after them papers and the diary while they're fresh in my mind. And besides, do you s'pose I'd let Sarah Ann Atwood rummage through my trunks? I guess not!"Phoebe began to be sorry she had thought of sending for the diary, particularly as the chance of its containing valuable information was so remote. Mrs. Beasley went into the house to dress for the ride. The schoolmistress went with her as far as the sitting room.
The perturbed Bailey stalked off, muttering, to the blacksmith's.
In a little while he returned, leading Henry by the bridle. Debby, adorned with the beflowered bonnet she had worn when she arrived at the Cy Whittaker place, and with a black cloth cape over her lean shoulders, was waiting for him by the open door of the barn. The cape had a fur collar--"cat fur," so Mr. Bangs said afterwards in describing it.
"Pull the sulky right out," commanded the widow.
Bailey stared into the black interior of the barn.
"Which is it?" he shouted.
Mrs. Beasley pointed with her ear trumpet.
"Why, that one there, of course. 'Tother's a truck cart. You wouldn't expect me to ride in that, would you?"Mr. Bangs entered the barn, seized the vehicle indicated by the shafts, and drew it out into the yard. He inspected it deliberately, and then sat weakly down on the chopping block near by. Apparently he was overcome by emotion.
The "sulky" bequeathed by the late doctor had been built to order for its former owner. It was of the "carryall" variety, except that it had but a single narrow seat. Its top was square and was curtained, the curtains being tightly buttoned down. Altogether it was something of a curiosity. Miss Dawes, who had come out to see the start, looked at the "sulky," then at Mr. Bangs's face, and turned her back. Her shoulders shook:
"It used to be a real nice carriage when Ezra had it," commented the widow admiringly. "It needs ilin' and sprucin' up now, but Iguess 'twill do. Come!" to Bailey, who had not risen from the chopping block. "Hurry up and harness or we'll never get started.
Thought you wanted to get back for dinner?"
Mr. Bangs stood up and heaved a sigh.
"I did," he answered slowly, "but," with a glance at the sulky, "somethin' seems to have took away my appetite. Teacher, do you mean to--"But Miss Dawes had withdrawn to the corner of the house, from which viewpoint she seemed to be inspecting the surrounding landscape.
Bailey seized Henry by the bridle and backed him into the shafts.
"Back up!" he roared. "Back up, I tell you! You needn't look at me that way," he added, in a lower tone. "_I_ can't help it. You ain't any worse ashamed than I am. There! the ark's off the ways.
All aboard!"
Turning to the expectant widow, he "boosted" her, not too tenderly, up to the narrow seat. Then he climbed in himself. Two on that seat made a tight fit. Bailey took up the reins. Debby leaned forward and peered around the edge of the curtains.
"You!" she shouted. "You, Miss What's-your-name--Dorcas! Come here a minute. I want to tell you somethin'."The schoolmistress, her face red and her eyes moist, approached.
"I just wanted to say," explained Debby, "that I ain't real sure as that diary's there. I burnt up a lot of my old letters and things a spell ago, and seems to me I burnt some old diaries, too, but maybe that wan't one of 'em. Anyhow, I can get them Arizona papers, and I do want you to see 'em. They're the most INTERESTIN' things. Now," she added, turning to her companion on the seat, "you can git dap just as soon as you want to."Whether or not Mr. Bangs wanted to "git dap" is a doubtful question. But at all events he did. Before the astonished Miss Dawes could think of an answer to the observation concerning the diary, the carriage, its long unused axles shrieking protests, moved out of the yard. The schoolmistress watched it go. Then she returned to the sitting room and collapsed in a rocking chair.
Once out from the shelter of the house and on the open road, the sulky received the full force of the wind. The first gust that howled in from the bay struck its curtained side with a sudden burst of power that caused Mrs. Beasley to clutch her driver's arm.
"Good land of mercy!" she screamed. "It blows real hard, don't it?"Mr. Bangs's answer was in the form of delicate sarca**, bellowed into the ear trumpet.
