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I can't see that you and I gain much by sittin' here and frettin' about next winter, Mr. Bangs. I suppose when winter is really here you will be trottin' around Egypt on a camel, or some sort of menagerie animal, and I shall be sweepin' and dustin' and makin' pies. And we both will be too busy to remember we're lonesome at all. I Yes, Primmie, what is it?"
She was rushing to the door, but her mistress intervened. "Primmie," she ordered, briskly, "stay where you are!" She opened the door herself. "Come right in, Mr. Bangs," she said. "No, don't stop to tell me about it, but come right in and sit down." Galusha looked up at her. His face was speckled with greenish brown spots, giving it the appearance of a mammoth bird's egg.
You ain't asleep, be you, Mr. Bangs?" If he had been as sound asleep as Rip Van Winkle that whoop would have aroused him. He hastened to assure the whooper that he was awake and afoot. "Um-hm," said Primmie, "I'm glad of that. If you'd been layin' down I wouldn't have woke you up for nothin'. But I want to ask you somethin', Mr. Bangs.
During breakfast he was more absent-minded than usual, which is saying a good deal, and Martha herself was far from communicative. After the meal he was putting on his hat and coat preparatory to going out for his usual walk when Primmie came hurrying through the hall. "She wants you," said Primmie, mysteriously, her eyes shining with excitement. "She wants to see you in the settin' room.
Bangs would have described it, bounced in. "Yes'm I mean yes, sir," was her salutation. "Here I be.... Oh, my savin' soul of Isrul!" She had seen the mound of money upon the table. Two minutes later Martha and her lodger were again alone in the sitting room. Primmie had been, gently but firmly, escorted to outer darkness and the door closed behind her.
She was staring at him, her face expressing the utmost horror. "Why, dear me, Primmie, what is it?" he begged. Primmie gasped again. "And you set there," she said, slowly, "and tell me that you hauled that poor critter that had been buried six thousand years out of of My Lord of Isrul! Don't talk no more to me now, Mr. Bangs. I sha'n't sleep none THIS night!"
"It doesn't make one bit of difference and why I asked about it I don't know. You see, Mr. Bangs, I'm not back on earth yet, as you might say, and I don't suppose I shall be for a little while, so you'll have to be patient with me. All I can think of is that now I can live here in this house, for a while longer anyhow, and perhaps always. And I sha'n't have to turn Primmie away.
Cabot made mental note of the fact that the Blossom spoke her spirit pidgin-English with a marked Down-East accent. Before he had time to notice more, the control announced that she had a message. The circle stirred in anticipation. Primmie wiggled in fearful ecstasy. "Listen!" commanded Little Cherry Blossom. "Everybodee harkee. Spirit comee heree. He say-ee " "Ow-ooo-ooo ooo OOO!!"
There was nothing particularly exciting about the man's appearance, but Primmie seemed to be excited. "See him, Mr. Bangs?" she repeated. "Yes, I see him. Who is he?" "Don't you know? No, course you don't; why should you? He's Cap'n Jethro Hallett, keeps the lighthouse, he does him and Lulie and Zach." "Oh, he is the light keeper, is he? What has he got his head tied up for?" "Hey? HEAD tied up?"
The effect upon the group in the parlor, leaning forward in awed expectation to catch the message from beyond, was upsetting, literally and figuratively. Miss Tamson Black, perched upon the slippery cushion of a rickety and unstable music stool, slid to the floor with a most unspiritual thump and a shrill squeal. Primmie clutched her next-door neighbor it chanced to be Mr.
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