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Updated: May 25, 2025
Do come and look at them." Mr. Powless did not comply. He said "Umph" and that was all. "George," repeated Mrs. Powless, "do you hear me? Come and look at them." And George came. One might have inferred that, when his wife spoke like that, he usually came. He treated a wooden porpoise to a thoroughly wooden stare and repeated his remark of "Umph!" "Aren't they extraordinary!" exclaimed his wife.
The owner of the property, gazing pathetically through the window, saw them wandering about the premises, looking off at the view, up into the trees, and finally trying the door of the old house and peeping in between the slats of the closed blinds. Then they came strolling back to the shop. Jed, drawing a long breath, prepared to face the ordeal. Mrs. Powless entered the shop. Mr.
Powless, looming large between the piles of mills and vanes, like a battleship in a narrow channel, was loftily inspecting the stock through her lorgnette. Her husband, his walking stick under his arm and his hands in his pockets, was not even making the pretense of being interested; he was staring through the seaward window toward the yard and the old house.
Captain Sam laughed uproariously. "You ain't very complimentary to Mr. Powless," he observed. Jed rubbed his chin. "I would be if I was referrin' to him," he drawled, "but I judge he's her second husband." Of course Mrs. Armstrong still insisted that, knowing, as she did, Mr. Winslow's prejudice against occupying the position of landlord, she could not think of accepting his offer.
Under this unaccustomed treatment Jed Winslow had been caught off his guard hypnotized, so to speak. And now, when it was too late, he realized the possible danger. Only a few hours ago he had told Mr. and Mrs. George Powless that the key to that house had been lost. He paused and hesitated. Mrs. Armstrong noticed his hesitation. "Please don't think any more about it," she said.
Jed swallowed. "No-o," he faltered, "I I guess not." "You GUESS not. Don't you know whether you've got it or not?" "No. I mean yes. I know I ain't." "Where is it; lost?" The key was usually lost, that is to say, Jed was accustomed to hunt for fifteen minutes before finding it, so, his conscience backing his inclination, he replied that he cal'lated it must be. "Umph!" grunted Powless.
"I want you to," he declared. "Yes, I mean it. I want you to come and live in this house for a month, anyhow. If you don't, that Powless woman will come back and buy every stick and rag on the place. I don't want to sell 'em, but I couldn't say no to her any more than I could to the Old Harry. I called her the Old Scratch's wife, didn't I," he added. "Well, I won't take it back."
"I've let it to you for a month, ma'am," he insisted. "It's yours, furniture and all, for a month. You won't sell that Mrs. Powless any of it, will you?" he added, anxiously. "Any of the furniture, I mean." Mrs. Armstrong scarcely knew whether to be amused or indignant. "Of course I shouldn't sell it," she declared. "It wouldn't be mine to sell." Jed looked frightened.
"I hope they didn't see me, but Land of love, they're comin' in!" A majestic tread sounded in the hall, in the dining-room. Mrs. George Powless appeared, severe, overwhelming, with Mr. George Powless in her wake. The former saw Mr. Winslow and fixed him with her glittering eye, as the Ancient Mariner fixed the wedding guest.
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