And yet Mr. Gabe Bearse, had he seen the major’s shadow upon the Armstrong window curtain, might have speculated much.

CHAPTER XV

The pity which Jed felt for Phineas Babbitt caused him to keep silent concerning his Thanksgiving evening interview with the hardware dealer.  At first he was inclined to tell Major Grover of Babbitt’s expressions concerning the war and his son’s enlistment.  After reflection, however, he decided not to do so.  The Winslow charity was wide enough to cover a multitude of other people’s sins and it covered those of Phineas.  The latter was to be pitied; as to fearing him, as a consequence of his threat to “get square,” Jed never thought of such a thing.  If he felt any anxiety at all in the matter it was a trifling uneasiness because his friends, the Hunniwells and the Armstrongs, were included in the threat.  But he was inclined to consider Mr. Babbitt’s wrath as he had once estimated the speech of a certain Ostable candidate for political office, to be “like a tumbler of plain sody water, mostly fizz and froth and nothin’ very substantial or fillin’.”  He did not tell Grover of the interview in the shop; he told no one, not even Ruth Armstrong.

The—­to him, at least—­delightful friendship and intimacy between himself and his friends and tenants continued.  He and Charlie Phillips came to know each other better and better.  Charles was now almost as confidential concerning his personal affairs as his sister had been and continued to be.

“It’s surprising how I come in here and tell you all my private business, Jed,” he said, laughing.  “I don’t go about shouting my joys and troubles in everybody’s ear like this.  Why do I do it to you?”

Jed stopped a dismal whistle in the middle of a bar.

“W-e-e-ll,” he drawled, “I don’t know.  When I was a young-one I used to like to holler out back of Uncle Laban Ryder’s barn so’s to hear the echo.  When you say so and so, Charlie, I generally agree with you.  Maybe you come here to get an echo; eh?”

Phillips laughed.  “You’re not fair to yourself,” he said.  “I generally find when the echo in here says no after I’ve said yes it pays me to pay attention to it.  Sis says the same thing about you, Jed.”

Jed made no comment, but his eyes shone.  Charles went on.

“Don’t you get tired of hearing the story of my life?” he asked.  “I—­”

He stopped short and the smile faded from his lips.  Jed knew why.  The story of his life was just what he had not told, what he could not tell.

As January slid icily into February Mr. Gabriel Bearse became an unusually busy person.  There were so many things to talk about.  Among these was one morsel which Gabe rolled succulently beneath his tongue.  Charles Phillips, “‘cordin’ to everybody’s tell,” was keeping company with Maud Hunniwell.

“There ain’t no doubt of it,” declared Mr. Bearse.  “All hands is talkin’ about it.  Looks’s if Cap’n Sam would have a son-in-law on his hands pretty soon.  How do you cal’late he’d like the idea, Shavin’s?”