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Memories of her monologues, if they could have been taken in shorthand from Galusha's mind, would have been merely a succession of "I" and "I" and "I" and "Oh, do you really think so, Doctor Bangs?" and "Oh, Professor!" and "wonderful" and "amazing" and "quite thrilling" and much more of the same.
The capacity for hating was not in Galusha's make-up. He found it difficult to dislike any one strongly. But he could come nearer to disliking Raish Pulcifer than any one else, and now to dislike was added resentment. Why in the world should this Pulcifer person interfere with his peace of mind?
There was a superfluity of mud, of course, and as Miss Phipps often informed him, Galusha's boots and lower trouser legs were "sights to see" when he came back from those walks. He expressed contrition and always proclaimed that he should be much more careful in future much more, yes. But he was not, nor did he care greatly.
And if them Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot folks are tryin' to buy in the stock, whether it's for themselves or somebody else, they'll want it kept dark. No, I ain't told a soul on this earth and I WON'T tell one. That is satisfactory, ain't it?" The shadow of a smile passed across Galusha's face. "Quite, quite," he replied. "Nothing could be more so unless " "Well, unless what?"
Martha, looking about in desperation, trying to look anywhere but into her guest's face, caught one transitory glimpse of that face. There was a twinkle in Galusha's eye. "I never liked that hat myself," he observed, dryly. Again their glances met and this time he smiled. Martha gave it up. "Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, with a laugh. "You know what they say about children and other folks, Mr. Bangs.
Bangs started forthwith. There WAS a churchyard, an ancient, grass-grown burying ground, with slate gravestones and weather-worn tombs. There were a few new stones, gleaming white and conspicuous, but only a few. Galusha's trained eye, trained by his unusual pastime of college days, saw at once that the oldest stones must date from early colonial times.
He acknowledged Galusha's bow with a wave of the hand, but he did not come nearer to ask more questions. That evening, at the supper table, Mr. Bangs mentioned the meeting. Primmie, who prided herself upon knowing every visitor in town and where he or she came from, was ready with the information in this case. "I know who he is," she declared.
But the longer it lasted and the harder the labor, the brighter Galusha's eyes sparkled behind his spectacles. Years before, when his aunt had asked him concerning his interest in the books about ancient Nineveh, he had described to her the work of the explorers and had cried: "Gee, it must be great!"
If they really want to get hold of that stock, fifty cents a share won't stand in their way, I'll bet you." It did not stand in Galusha's way, either. In his desperate position he would have paid any amount obtainable rather than have the light keeper go to Boston on such an errand. Leaving the clerk's window with his pocket bulging with bank notes, Mr.
Come on, come on, Mr. Bangs! What are you waitin' for?" As a general rule Galusha's thoughts started upon the morning ramble some little time before he did and recalling them was a rather slow and patience-taxing process. In this case, however, they were already in the sitting room with Martha Phipps and so had a shorter road home. But they came slowly enough, for all that.
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