"Yes--oh--I see," he faltered. "I guess likely I didn't understand
exactly. But just the same I don't know but George was right in some
things he said. I shouldn't wonder if I had been careless about--about
appearances. I don't know but--but my seein' you so much--and our goin'
to Orham together might set some folks talkin'. Of course it doesn't
seem hardly possible that anybody could be such fools, considerin'
you--and then considerin' me--but----"
She would not hear any more. "I don't propose to consider _them_," she
declared with fierce indignation. "I shall see you or any one else just
as often as I please. Now that you are to take care of my money for me I
have no doubt I shall see you a great deal oftener than I ever did. And
if those--those talkative persons don't like it, they may do the next
best thing.... No, that is enough, Cap'n Kendrick. It is settled."
And it did appear to be. If anything, she saw him oftener than before,
seemed to take a mischievous delight in being seen with him, in running
to the Minot place on errands connected with the Harbor business, and
in every way defying the gossips.
And gossip accepted the challenge. From the time when it became known
that Sears Kendrick was to be the trustee of Elizabeth Berry's
twenty-thousand dollar legacy the tide of public opinion, already on the
turn, set more and more strongly against him. And, as it ebbed for
Captain Sears, it rose higher and higher for that genteel martyr, Mr.
Egbert Phillips.
Sears could not help noticing the change. It was gradual, but it was
marked. He had never had many visitors, but occasionally some of the
retired sea dogs among the town-folk would drop in to swap yarns, or a
younger captain, home from a voyage, would call on him at the Minot
place. The number of those calls became smaller, then they ceased.
Doctor Sheldon was, of course, as jolly and friendly as ever, and
Bradley, when he drove over from Orham on a legal errand, made it a
point to come and see him. But, aside from those, and Sarah Macomber,
and, of course, Elizabeth Berry, no one came.
When he walked, as he did occasionally now that his legs were
stronger--they had quite recovered from the strain put upon them by the
Foam Flake's outbreak--up and down the sidewalk from Judge Knowles'
corner to the end of the Fair Harbor fence, the people whom he met
seldom stopped to chat with him. Or, if they did, the chat was always
brief and, on their part, uneasy. They acted, so it seemed to him,
guilty, as if they were doing something they should not do, something
they were not at all anxious to have people see them do. And when he
drove with Judah down to the store the group there no longer hailed him
with shouts of welcome. They spoke to him, mentioned the weather
perhaps, grinned in embarrassed fashion, but they did not ask him to sit
down and join them. And when his back was turned, when he left the
store, he had the feeling that there were whispered comments--and
sneers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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