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Updated: June 7, 2025
But they did not really mean it when they said it. And some others, like Leander Babbitt or Captain Hunniwell, came to ask his advice on personal matters, although even they patronized him just a little. He had various nicknames, "Shavings" being the most popular. His peculiar business, the making of wooden mills, toys and weather vanes, had grown steadily.
"No," she confessed, after a moment. "He did not write me that he thought it right to give Captain Hunniwell such a reference. In fact he wrote that he thought it all wrong, deceitful, bordering on the dishonest. He much preferred having Charles go to the captain and tell the whole truth.
And it won't mean that your doin' this thing will necessarily make either Maud or Sam say yes to the question you want to ask 'em. That question they'll answer themselves, of course. But, as I see it, if you do this thing you'll be free and independent, a man doin' a man's job and ready to speak to Sam Hunniwell or anybody else LIKE a man. And that's somethin'." "Something!
Jed smiled his slow, fleeting smile. "I guess likely I would be pretty funny," he admitted. "Any Germans I met would probably die laughin' and that might help along some." But after Miss Hunniwell had gone he sat for some minutes gazing out of the window, the wistful, dreamy look on his lean, homely face. Then he sighed, and resumed his painting.
You don't still think me wrong in not telling Captain Hunniwell?" "Eh? . . . Oh, no, no. I wasn't thinkin' that at all." "But you don't answer my question. Well, never mind. I am really almost happy for the first time in ever so long and I mean to remain so if I can. I am glad I did not tell glad. And you must agree with me, Mr.
Phineas Babbitt, however, continued to express dislike, or, at the most, indifference. "I'm too old a bird," declared the vindictive little hardware dealer, "to bow down afore a slick tongue and a good-lookin' figgerhead. He's one of Sam Hunniwell's pets and that's enough for me. Anybody that ties up to Sam Hunniwell must have a rotten plank in 'em somewheres; give it time and 'twill come out."
"Um-hm. . . . Well, I tried on his boots and started to walk across the wharf in em. . . ." "Well, what of it? Gracious king! hurry up. What happened?" "Eh? . . . Oh, nothin' much, only seemed to me I'd had half of my walk afore those boots began to move." Captain Hunniwell enjoyed the story hugely.
You've been looked up to and respected here in Orham; folks never laughed at you or called you 'town crank. You've got a daughter and she's a good girl. And the man she wants to marry is a good man, and, if you'll give him a chance and he lives through the war he's goin' into, he'll make you proud of him. You go home, Sam Hunniwell!
His mother would not hear of his leaving her to find better work or to obtain promotion. She needed him, she wailed; he was her life, her all; she should die if he left her. Some hard-hearted townspeople, Captain Hunniwell among them, disgustedly opined that, in view of such a result, Jed should be forcibly kidnaped forthwith for the general betterment of the community.
But Charlie Phillips had come and seen and, judging by appearances, conquered. Since the Thanksgiving dinner the young man had been a frequent visitor at the Hunniwell home. Maud was musical, she played well and had a pleasing voice. Charles' baritone was unusually good.
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