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I happened to speak of Mrs. Brindlecombe's pin, the wonderful one I just wrote about. The very next day Galusha came trotting in, bubbling over with mischief and mystery like the boy he is in so many things, and handed me a jeweler's box. When I opened it there was a platinum brooch with a diamond in it as big honestly, Lulie, I believe it was as big as my thumbnail, or two thirds as big, anyway.
"Did he, indeed! Well, that is more than we've paid any one else, except Pulcifer. We allowed him a commission a margin on all he succeeded in buying.... Humph!... And I suppose Galusha paid old Hallett par, too. But why he should do such a thing is well, it is beyond me." She answered, but still she did not look at him. "He told you," she said. "He knew I needed money.
Been dead seven year, so Miss Martha says. That's what I mean when I say it's awful. Wouldn't you think 'twas awful if a woman that had been dead seven year come and stood alongside of you?" Galusha smiled again. "Yes," he admitted, "I am inclined to think I ah should." "You bet you would! So'd anybody but Jethro Hallet. He likes it. Yes, sir!
Galusha paid little attention to this sign; it was the other nailed beneath it which caught and held his attention. Mr. Bangs uttered his favorite exclamation. "Dear me! Why, dear me!" He read the sign again. There was no mistake, his first reading had been correct. He trotted back to the platform of Mr. Beebe's store.
And thus, working by devious ways, did Fate bring about the meeting of Galusha Cabot Bangs, of the National Institute, Washington, D. C., and Miss Martha Phipps, of East Wellmouth, which, it may be said in passing, was something of an achievement, even for Fate.
"That everlastin' seance begins about half past seven, so Cap'n Jethro took pains to tell me, and he'll be crosser'n a hen out in a rainstorm if we're not on time." Galusha looked surprised. He had forgotten the seance altogether. Yes, he had quite forgotten it. And, up to that noon, he had thought of very little else the entire week. What WAS the matter with him?
How's things down to the bluffs? Joggin' along, joggin' along in the same old rut, the way the feller with the wheelbarrer went to market? Eh? Haw, haw, haw! Have a cigar, Perfessor?" Galusha declined the cigar. He would also have declined the invitation to sit, but Mr. Pulcifer would not hear of it. He all but forced his caller into a chair. "Set down," he insisted.
However, it is a real sensible and rich-looking dress, even if it is simple, and I think you would like it. At any rate, I put it on and Galusha got into his dress suit, after I had helped him find the vest, and stopped him from putting one gold stud and two pearl ones in his shirt. HE didn't notice, bless him, he was thinking of everything but what he was doing at the minute, as he always is.
Saturday night I'm goin' to be a long ways from Gould's Bluffs lighthouse, you bet on that." Galusha expressed surprise and gave reasons for that emotion. Raish winked and nodded. "Yes, I know," he said, "but I'm goin' to have what they call an alibi. You ain't been to court much, I presume likely, Perfessor, so you may not be on to what alibi is.
"And so I say," vowed Raish, in conclusion, "with all that property behind it and all that future ahead of it, if Development ain't a good investment, what is?" "I don't know, I'm sure," confessed Galusha. "But " "Don't know? You bet you don't know! Nor nobody else. Not for quick returns, maybe though you can't never tell.
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