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"Well, it's all over with Jeff and me, father." "Well, I'm satisfied," said Whitwell. "If you could ha' made it up, so you could ha' felt right about it, I shouldn't ha' had anything to say against it, but I'm glad it's turned out the way it has. He's a comical devil, and he always was, and I'm glad you a'n't takin' on about him any more. You used to have so much spirit when you was little."
The painter had to own his ignorance of all except the diction that the government is best which governs least; but he was not in a position to deny that Jefferson had ever said anything about a broken shaft. "It may have come to him on the other side," said Whitwell. "Perhaps," Westover assented. The planchette began to stir itself again. "She's goin' ahead!" cried Whitwell.
"He did have the least sense for a dog I ever saw. And Jeff used to be so fond of him! Well, I guess he got tired of him, too, toward the last." "He's gone to the happy hunting-grounds now. Colorady didn't agree with him-or old age," said Whitwell. "I don't see why the Injuns wa'n't right," he pursued, thoughtfully. "If they've got souls, why ha'n't their dogs? I suppose Mr.
Westover added, "But there's no question but the Egyptians believed in the life hereafter, and in future rewards and punishments for the deeds done in the body, thousands of years before our era." "Well, I'm dumned," said Whitwell. Jombateeste took his pipe out again. "Hit show they got good sense. They know they feel it in their bone what goin' 'appen when you dead.
He went out into the ell, and Westover heard him raising a window. He came back and asked, "That do? It 'll get around in here directly," and Westover had to profess relief. Jackson came in presently with the little Canuck, whom Whitwell presented to Westover: "Know Jombateeste?"
"Well, I'm glad you feel that way," said Whitwell, with a little apparent surprise. "I don't want to meddle, any; but I know what Cynthy is I no need to brag her up and I don't feel so over and above certain 't I know what he is. He's a good deal of a mixture, if you want to know how he strikes me.
Whitwell took advantage of Westover's moment of mystification to explain that Jeff had written over to him from Italy, offering him a pretty good rent for his house, which he wanted to occupy while he was rebuilding Lion's Head. He was going to push the work right through in the summer, and be ready for the season the year after.
A few tramps over these hills 'll make you look like another woman." He added, as if he had perhaps made his remarks too personal to the girl, "Both of you." "Oh yes," the mother assented, fervently. "We shall count upon your showing us all their-mysteries." Whitwell looked pleased. "I'll do my best-whenever you're ready." He went on: "Why, Jeff, here, has just got back, too.
"There may be some that would compare with our hills, but I should say that you could take Mount Washington up and set it in the lap of almost any one of the Alps I saw, and it would look like a baby on its mother's knee." "I want to know!" said Whitwell again. His tone expressed disappointment, but impartiality; he would do justice to foreign superiority if he must. "And about the ocean.
Jackson brought his chair-legs down again, and put his hand on the planchette. "Feel that tinglin'?" asked. Whitwell, and Jackson made yes with silent lips.
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