Shavings | Page 8

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 his face assumed a troubled expression.
"Jed," he ordered, "leave off daubin' at that wooden doll baby for a minute, will you? I want to talk to you. I want to ask you what you think I'd better do. I know what Gab Bearse-- Much obliged for that name, Jed; 'Gab's' the best name on earth for that critter--I know what Gab came in here to talk about. 'Twas about me and my bein' put on the Exemption Board, of course. That was it, wan't it? Um-hm, I knew 'twas. I was the 'this' in his 'this and that.' And Phin Babbitt was the 'that'; I'll bet on it. Am I right?"
Winslow nodded.
"Sure thing!" continued the captain. "Well, there 'tis. What am I goin' to do? When they wanted me to take the job in the first place I kind of hesitated. You know I did. 'Twas bound to be one of those thankless sort of jobs that get a feller into trouble, bound to