Other visitors to the shop, those who knew him well, were surprised and amused to find him on such confidential and intimate terms with a child.  Gabe Bearse, after one short call, reported about town that crazy Shavin’s Winslow had taken up with a young-one just about as crazy as he was.

“There she set,” declared Gabriel, “on a box, hugging a broken-nosed doll baby up to her and starin’ at me and Shavin’s as if we was some kind of curiosities, as you might say.  Well, one of us was; eh?  Haw, haw!  She didn’t say a word and Shavin’s he never said nothin’ and I felt as if I was preaching in a deef and dumb asylum.  Finally, I happened to look at her and I see her lips movin’.  ‘Well,’ says I, ’you can talk, can’t you, sis, even if it’s only to yourself.  What was you talkin’ to yourself about, eh?’ She didn’t seem to want to answer; just sort of reddened up, you know; but I kept right after her.  Finally she owned up she was countin’.  ‘What was you countin’?’ says I. Well, she didn’t want to tell that, neither.  Finally I dragged it out of her that she was countin’ how many words I’d said since I started to tell about Melissy Busteed and what she said about Luther Small’s wife’s aunt, the one that’s so wheezed up with asthma and Doctor Parker don’t seem to be able to do nothin’ to help.  ‘So you was countin’ my words, was you?’ says I.  ’Well, that’s good business, I must say!  How many have I said?’ She looked solemn and shook her head.  ’I had to give it up,’ says she.  ’It makes my head ache to count fast very long.  Doesn’t it give you a headache to count fast, Mr. Winslow?’ Jed, he mumbled some kind of foolishness about some things givin’ him earache.  I laughed at the two of ’em.  ‘Humph!’ says I, ‘the only kind of aches I have is them in my bones,’ meanin’ my rheumatiz, you understand.  Shavin’s he looked moony up at the roof for about a week and a half, same as he’s liable to do, and then he drawled out:  ‘You see he does have headache, Babbie,’ says he.  Now did you ever hear such fool talk outside of an asylum?  He and that Armstrong kid are well matched.  No wonder she sits in there and gapes at him half the day.”

Captain Sam Hunniwell and his daughter were hugely tickled.

“Jed’s got a girl at last,” crowed the captain.  “I’d about given up hope, Jed.  I was fearful that the bloom of your youth would pass away from you and you wouldn’t keep company with anybody.  You’re so bashful that I know you’d never call on a young woman, but I never figured that one might begin callin’ on you.  Course she’s kind of extra young, but she’ll grow out of that, give her time.”

Maud Hunniwell laughed merrily, enjoying Mr. Winslow’s confusion.  “Oh, the little girl is only the bait, Father,” she declared.  “It is the pretty widow that Jed is fishing for.  She’ll be calling here soon, or he’ll be calling there.  Isn’t that true, Jed?  Own up, now.  Oh, see him blush, Father!  Just see him!”