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At last, the perplexed wit, getting more irascible as he grew more bewildered, suddenly seized the vast incumbrance by the arm, and said to him in a sharp, querulous tone, "Pray, Monsieur, why are you like the lote tree in Mahomet's Seventh Heaven?" "Sir!" cried the astonished Frenchman. Vincent steered by, and, joining me, hiccuped out, "In rebus adversis opponite pectora fortia."
It don't pay to jump at conclusions, son, he says. 'Some conclusions are like that bumble-bee's, they have stings in 'em." Captain Lote, having finished his story, felt in his pocket for a match. Fosdick, for an instant, appeared puzzled. Then he laughed. "I see," he said. "You think I made too quick a jump when I concluded you were backing your grandson in this affair.
Cap'n Lote Snow is stubborn sometimes and hard to turn, but he's square as a brick. There's some that don't like him, and a good many that don't agree with him but everybody respects him." Albert did not answer. The housekeeper rose from her chair. "There!" she exclaimed. "I don't know when I've set down for so long.
He had supposed the whole affair to be, so far, a secret between himself and his grandfather. "You know?" he stammered. "You How did you know?" "Laban told me. Labe came hurryin' over here just after supper and told me the whole thing. He's awful upset about it, Laban is. He thinks almost as much of you as he does of Cap'n Lote or or me," with an apologetic little smile.
The captain adjusted his spectacles, reached into the inside pocket of his coat and produced an envelope. It was a square envelope with either a trade-mark or a crest upon the back. Captain Lote did not open the envelope, but instead tapped his desk with it and regarded his grandson in a meditative way.
Sometimes Captain Lote at his desk in the office of "Z. Snow & Co., Lumber and Builders' Hardware," caught himself dreaming of his idolized daughter and thinking how different the future might have been for him had she married a "white man," the kind of man he had meant for her to marry. There might be grandchildren growing up now, fine boys and girls, to visit the old home at South Harniss.
And I don't care so much for a commission, unless I can earn it. And I don't want to stay here and study for it. I want to go now. I want to get into the thing. I don't want to wait." Captain Lote leaned forward. His gray eyes snapped. "Want to fight, do you?" he queried. "You bet I do!" "All right, my boy, then go and fight. I'd be ashamed of myself if I held you back a minute.
He he said he didn't hardly want to take it to the house. He cal'lated you'd better have it here, to read to yourself, fust. That's what he said yes, yes that's what 'twas, Cap'n." Slowly Captain Zelotes extended his hand for the envelope. He did not take his eyes from the bookkeeper's face. "Ben Ben, he told me what was in it, Cap'n Lote," faltered Laban.
At the end of that year he surprised every one by buying from the heirs of the estate the business equipment of the late Eben Raymond, hardware dealer and lumber merchant of South Harniss, said equipment comprising an office, a store and lumber yards near the railway station. "Got to have somethin' to keep me from gettin' barnacled," declared Captain Lote.
It seems almost impossible for me to come to you just now, and, of course, you will understand that I am acting as a sort of temporary executor merely because Mr. Speranza was formerly my friend and not because I have any pecuniary interest in the settlement of his affairs. "'Very truly yours, "Weissman! Another Portygee!" snorted Captain Lote. "But but what does it MEAN?" begged Mrs. Snow.
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