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Updated: June 17, 2025
He had apparently gathered from the station-master so much of Gaites's personal history as had accumulated since he left the express train at Middlemount. "Thought you'd try a caboose for a little change from a pahla-cah," he suggested, humorously. "Well, yes," Gaites partially admitted.
"They knew how to do it, they knew how to do it!" he exclaimed, meaning the people who had such houses built; and he said the same thing of the other Burymouth houses which Birkwall showed him, by grace of their owners, after the mid-day dinner, which Gaites kept calling luncheon. "Be sure you get back in good time for tea," said Mrs.
It was all like something in a pleasant book, and Gaites was not altogether to blame if it went to his head, and after the talk had been of Burymouth, in which he professed so acceptable an interest, and then of novels, of which he had read about as many as they, he confided to the whole table his experience with Miss Phyllis Desmond's piano.
She now wheeled upon the stool, and struck some chords. "I wish you'd thought to bring your fiddle, Millicent. I should like to try this piece." The piece lay on the music-rest before her. "I will go and get it for her," said the ex-master of ceremonies. "Do," said Miss Desmond. "No, no," Gaites protested. "I brought Miss Axewright, and I have the first claim to bring her fiddle."
When she reappeared, in her hat, at the front of the Inn, Gaites happened to be there, and he asked her if he might walk with her and make his inquiries too about the piano, in which, he urged, they were mutually interested. This was fortunate for Miss Desmond, who wished to talk of nothing else. The piano had arrived in perfect condition.
He had always liked the way those nice people let their children play about barefoot; it would be in character with them to do a fond, pretty thing like that; and Gaites smiled for pleasure in it, and then rather blushed in relating the brown legs of the little girl, as he remembered seeing them in her races over her father's lawn, to the dignified young lady she had now become.
How will that do?" she asked Gaites, submitting the telegram to him. "That seems to cover the ground," he said, not so wholly hiding the misgiving he began to feel but that she demanded, "It explains everything, doesn't it?" "Yes " "Very well; sign it, then!" "Certainly. She doesn't know me." "She doesn't know me, either," said Gaites. He added: "And a man's name " "To be sure!
He was now not at all ashamed of the stand he had taken in the matter at former opportunities, and he was not abashed when a man in a silk cap demanded, across the twilight of the freight-house, in accents of the semi-sarcasm appropriate in addressing a person apparently not minding his own business, "Lost something?" "Yes, I have," answered Gaites with just effrontery.
"Well, then," he said, "if you're going to be in Boston together, I think you ought to see the S. B. & H. C. traffic-manager, and find out all about what kept Phyl's piano so long on the road. I think they owe her an explanation, and Gaites is a lawyer, and he's just the man to get it, with damages."
Well, I guess you'll find your piano at Lower Merritt, all right, in two-three weeks." He was now openly offensive, as with a sense of having Gaites in his power. A locomotive-bell rang, and Gaites started toward the doorway. "Is that my train?" The man openly laughed. "Guess it is, if you're goin' to Lower Merritt."
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