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Once, the last o' May, we borrowed Lote's team and climbed up here, and here was that tree in full bloom. Mother had a kind of a pretty way of putting things, and she said 'twas like a bride.
She don't see him at all and yet we can always tell when he's comin' back to work by her spirits. If he ain't back to-day he will be to-morrow, you'll see. She never misses by more than a day. I think it's real sort of mysterious, but Zelotes laughs at me." Captain Lote's lip twitched. "Yes, Mother," he said, "it's about as mysterious as the clock's strikin' twelve when it's noon.
"Don't go puttin' words in my mouth that I didn't say. I don't doubt your pa was a nice man, in his way, though I never met him. But 'twan't Cap'n Lote's way any more than Robert Penfold's was General Rolleson's." "My father was famous," declared the youth hotly. "He was one of the most famous singers in this country.
"Seems to be a case for an umpire," he observed. "Um. Seem's if 'twas, seems so, seems so. Well, Captain Lote's just comin' across the road and, if you say the word, I'll call him in to referee. What do you say?" They said nothing relevant to the subject in hand. Issachar made the only remark. "Crimus-TEE!" he ejaculated. "Come on, Al, come on." The pair hurried away to resume lumber piling.
Captain Zelotes nodded. "That now is a good time to talk? Yes, I do," he said. "Good! Then suppose we talk." "All right." There was another interval of silence. Then Fosdick broke it with a chuckle. "And I'm the one to do the talking, eh?" he said. Captain Lote's eye twinkled. "We-ll, you came all the way from New York on purpose, you know," he observed. Then he added: "But there, Mr.
The captain opened the stove door, regarded the red-hot coals for an instant, and then slammed the door shut again. "I know, Mother," he said grimly. "It's for the sake of Janie's half that I'm takin' in the other." "But but, Zelotes, don't you think he seems like a nice boy?" The twinkle reappeared in Captain Lote's eyes. "I think HE thinks he's a nice boy, Mother," he said.
He stopped short, evidently struck by a new idea. "Sho!" he drawled, slowly. "Why, I declare I believe you're . . . Yes, of course! I heard they was expectin' you. Doc, you know who 'tis, don't you? Cap'n Lote's grandson; Janie's boy." He took the lighted lantern from under the wagon seat and held it up so that its glow shone upon the face of the youth standing by the wheel. "Hum," he mused.
Fosdick, Williamson and Hendricks are one of the biggest brokerage houses goin', so a good many New Yorkers have told me." "No doubt. But, Grandfather, you've had some experience with me as a business man; how do you think I would fit into a firm of stockbrokers?" Captain Lote's eye twinkled, but he did not answer the question.
"There goes a good girl, Al," was Captain Lote's only comment. "A mighty good capable girl." Albert nodded. A moment later he lifted his hat to a group in a passing automobile. "Who were those folks?" asked the Captain. "The Fosdicks," was the reply. "The people who are going to build down by the Inlet." It was Madeline and her mother.
But from things he's let drop I know he has hoped to take you in with him as a partner one of these days, and to leave you the business after he's gone." "Nonsense, Rachel!" "No, it ain't nonsense. It's the one big dream of Cap'n Lote's life. That Z. Snow and Co. business is his pet child, as you might say.
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