Shavings | Page 8

consequence, that is; very poor
people or village eccentrics like Jed Winslow did not much matter, of
course--was in this case augmented by a particular desire to please
Captain Sam Hunniwell. Captain Sam, being one of Orham's most
influential men, was not, in Mr. Bearse's estimation, at all the sort of
person whom it was advisable to displease. He might--and did--talk
disparagingly of him behind his back, as he did behind the back of

every one else, but he smiled humbly and spoke softly in his presence.
The consciousness of having just been talking of him, however, of
having visited that shop for the express purpose of talking about him,
made the explaining process a trifle embarrassing.
"Oh, howd'ye do, howd'ye do, Cap'n Hunniwell?" stammered Gabriel.
"Nice day, ain't it, sir? Yes, sir, 'tis a nice day. I was just-- er--that is, I
just run in to see Shavin's here; to make a little call, you know. We was
just settin' here talkin', wan't we, Shavin's--Jed, I mean?"
Mr. Winslow stood his completed sailor man in a rack to dry.
"Ya-as," he drawled, solemnly, "that was about it, I guess. Have a chair,
Sam, won't you? . . . That was about it, we was sittin' and talkin' . . . I
was sittin' and Gab--Gabe, I mean--was talkin'."
Captain Sam chuckled. As Winslow and Mr. Bearse were occupying
the only two chairs in the room he accepted the invitation in its broad
sense and, turning an empty box upon end, sat down on that.
"So Gabe was talkin', eh?" he repeated. "Well, that's singular. How'd
that happen, Gabe?"
Mr. Bearse looked rather foolish. "Oh, we was just--just talkin'
about--er--this and that," he said, hastily. "Just this and that, nothin'
partic'lar. Cal'late I'll have to be runnin' along now, Jed."
Jed Winslow selected a new and unpainted sailor from the pile near
him. He eyed it dreamily.
"Well, Gabe," he observed, "if you must, you must, I suppose. Seems to
me you're leavin' at the most interestin' time. We've been talkin' about
this and that, same as you say, and now you're leavin' just as 'this' has
got here. Maybe if you wait--wait--a--"
The sentence died away into nothingness. He had taken up the brush
which he used for the blue paint. There was a loose bristle in it. He
pulled this out and one or two more came with it.

"Hu-um!" he mused, absently.
Captain Sam was tired of waiting.
"Come, finish her out, Jed--finish her out," he urged. "What's the rest of
it?"
"I cal'late I'll run along now," said Mr. Bearse, nervously moving
toward the door.
"Hold on a minute," commanded the captain. "Jed hadn't finished what
he was sayin' to you. He generally talks like one of those
continued-in-our-next yarns in the magazines. Give us the September
installment, Jed--come."
Mr. Winslow smiled, a slow, whimsical smile that lit up his lean,
brown face and then passed away as slowly as it had come, lingering
for an instant at one corner of his mouth.
"Oh, I was just tellin' Gabe that the 'this' he was talkin' about was here
now," he said, "and that maybe if he waited a space the 'that' would
come, too. Seems to me if I was you, Gabe, I'd--"
But Mr. Bearse had gone.
Captain Hunniwell snorted. "Humph!" he said; "I judge likely I'm the
'this' you and that gas bag have been talkin' about. Who's the 'that'?"
His companion was gazing absently at the door through which Gabriel
had made his hurried departure. After gazing at it in silence for a
moment, he rose from the chair, unfolding section by section like a
pocket rule, and, crossing the room, opened the door and took from its
other side the lettered sign "Private" which had hung there. Then, with
tacks and a hammer, he proceeded to affix the placard to the inner side
of the door, that facing the room where he and Captain Sam were. The
captain regarded this operation with huge astonishment.
"Gracious king!" he exclaimed. "What in thunder are you doin' that for?

This is the private room in here, ain't it?"
Mr. Winslow, returning to his chair, nodded.
"Ya-as," he admitted, "that's why I'm puttin' the 'Private' sign on this
side of the door."
"Yes, but-- Why, confound it, anybody who sees it there will think it is
the other room that's private, won't they?"
Jed nodded. "I'm in hopes they will," he said.
"You're in hopes they will! Why?"
"'Cause if Gabe Bearse thinks that room's private and that he don't
belong there he'll be sartin sure to go there; then maybe he'll give me a
rest."
He selected a new brush and went on with his painting. Captain
Hunniwell laughed heartily. Then, all at once, his laughter ceased and