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Updated: June 15, 2025
Primmie, apparently, had been watching through the kitchen window for Galusha to appear. At any rate, she opened the door for him. Her mouth opened also, but he, for perhaps the first time in their acquaintanceship, spoke first. "I know I know, Primmie," he said, hastily; "or if I don't know you can tell me later on. Ah please don't delay me now."
He is tired and his nerves are tired, too; so we must make it as easy as we can for him, Primmie, you and I." "Yes'm. He's a good man, ain't he?" "Indeed he is!" "Yes'm. Even if he is so kind of of funny." Often, in earlier conversations with her housemaid, Miss Phipps had agreed that her lodger was, to say the least, "funny"; but now she seemed to resent the word.
I mean put them on the floor ah outside. Thank you, thank you." "Miss Martha said if you was awake to ask you if you felt better." "Oh, yes yes, much better, thank you. Thank you yes." He waited in some trepidation, until he heard Primmie clump downstairs. Then he opened the door a crack and retrieved his "things."
Pa used to say 'twas, but all he had he picked up off fishin' and clammin' and cranberrin' and around. All our family had a kind of picked-up education, seemed so." "Yes, yes, Primmie, but " "But why don't I mind my own business and stick to what I was goin' to say, you mean? All right, I will.
"Eh?" queried Galusha, peering out between the earlaps of his cap. "Eh? What did you say, Primmie?" "I say Miss Martha wants to see you a minute. She's in there a-waitin'. I bet you she's goin' to tell you about it. Hurry! hurry!" "Tell me?... About what?" "Why, about what 'tis that's worryin' her so. About that Raish Pulcifer and all the rest of it.... Oh, my Lord of Isrul!
I'm only asking as a friend, you know." "Why, of course. There now, doctor, don't you worry about me. You know what father and I were to each other; is it likely he would leave me in trouble of any kind? Now come in and see if Primmie has talked this little sick man of ours into another faintin' fit."
Miss Phipps was dressed in her best gown and looked the personification of trim, comfortable New England femininity. Galusha was garbed in the suit he wore the evening of his arrival, but it had been newly sponged and pressed. "It looks lots better," observed Martha, inspecting him as they walked along. "It wouldn't have, though, if Primmie had finished the job.
"Well, I thought undertakin' was your trade till Miss Martha put her foot down on the notion and shut me right up. You AIN'T an undertaker, be you?" "An undertaker?... Dear me, Primmie, you ah well, you surprise me. Just why did you think me an undertaker, may I ask?"
A FOOL!... I I mustn't talk any more or or I'll say somethin' I'll wish I hadn't.... Good-night, Mr. Cabot." She had held her handkerchief tightly crumpled in her hand during this outburst. Now she dabbed hastily with it at either eye, turned and hastened into the dining room, closing the door behind her. A minute later Primmie came into the room, bearing a lighted lamp.
Galusha said nothing to Miss Phipps nor to any one else, but during the rest of that day he did a great deal of thinking. Martha Phipps was worried, she was troubled, she had been crying; according to Primmie Horatio Pulcifer was responsible for her tears. Galusha had never fancied Mr. Pulcifer, now he was conscious of a most extraordinary dislike for the man.
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