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He slips down in his chair an' sets starin' at the fire, his hands hangin' limp over the arms like there wasn't none of him left. His face looked tired to death, an' yet there was that somethin' about him like you didn't want to leave him.
He flies right off the handle for nothin'. He goes strayin' away off in the fields and gullies, a browsin' about with a hammer, crackin' up bits of stones like walnuts, or pickin' up old weeds, faded flowers, and what not; and stands starin' at 'em for ever so long, through his eye-glass, and keeps a savin' to himself, 'Wonderful provision of natur! Airth and seas! what does he mean?
Then I guess you had better get a lady that knows more than me, says she, that's flat. And off she sot, lookin as scorney as a London lady, and leavin the poor minister standin starin like a stuck pig.
But he wa'n't such a prophet in Israel then as he's come to be since, and folks wa'n't acquainted with his personal beauties. "'What are you starin' at? he asks. "I fetched a long breath. 'Nothin', says I. 'Nothin'. "But for the rest of that next ha'f hour I went around in a kind of daze, as if MY wig had gone and part of my head with it.
I've known him to unravel stranger things than this. I would even venture to say that he has hit on a clue while we've been talking." Course, a good deal of it is Mr. Robert's josh. He's always springin' that line. But Zosco, after he's looked me over keen, shrugs his shoulders doubtful. Mrs. Jake, though, is ready to grab at anything. "Can you find him?" she asks, starin' at me.
"An' yer shove yer way into my 'ouse on the strength of wot a pack o' silly women said ter yer?" "I did," admitted Chook. "Now you take my advice, an' git out before I break every bone in yer body." Chook stared at him with an unnatural stolidity for fear he should spoil everything by grinning. "Well, wot are yer starin' at?" inquired Partridge, with irritation.
An' that fool up an' says it was me done th' starin', and I'd got to stop it or he'd cut out my damn heart an' them was his very words. An' by noon yesterday he was drunker'n a Dutchman, an' was starin' harder'n ever.
He seems to be enjoyin' the monologue; so I don't break in, but just stands there while he gazes at the picture and holds forth enthusiastic. Even after he's finished he still sits there starin'. "Gee!" says I. "It ain't a hopeless case, is it, Mr. Robert?" Which brings him out of his spell.
I finds Vee some excited and more or less curious. "Please," says she, "what is it all about?" "It's a little game," says I, "entitled ditching Jamaica. There'll be some of our friends here directly to join in." "Torchy," says Vee, starin' a bit scared, "you you mean that Anyway, I should change my frock, I suppose?"
"Look at that grocer-man stickin' in his head; and there's Magloire Cadoret and that pig of a barber, Moise Moisan, starin' through the dure, an' " As she spoke, the barber and his companion suddenly turned their faces to the street, and started forward with startled exclamations, the grocer following. They all ran out from the post-office. Not far up the street a crowd was gathering.
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