Whereupon Marthy signed the note, with a spluttering of the abused pen
in her stiffened old fingers and a great twisting of her grim mouth as
she formed the capitals. Then Billy Louise wrote her name with a fine,
schoolgirl ease and a little curl on the end of the last d. Seabeck
took the paper from the tips of Billy Louise's supercilious fingers,
returned with it to the desk for a blotter, hunted an envelope, folded
the note carefully, and laid it away inside.
"I believe that is all, Mrs. Meilke. I hope you will suffer no further
uneasiness on account of your--nephew."
"I'm liable t' suffer some gittin' that five hundred dollars paid up,"
Marthy returned with some acerbity. "I'm much obleeged to yuh, Mr.
Seabeck, fer bein' so easy on us. If yuh hadn't drug Billy Louise into
it, I'd say yer too good to be human."
"Hmm-mm--not at all," Seabeck stammered deprecatingly and left the room
with what haste his natural dignity would permit.
That ended the Seabeck part of the whole sordid affair, except that he
remained for another hour, doing chores and making everything snug for
the night. Also he filled the kitchen woodbox as high as he could pile
the sticks and brought water to last overnight--since Charlie's plan to
pipe water into the cabin had remained a beautiful plan and nothing
more. Billy Louise thanked Seabeck, when he was ready to go.
"I knew you were square, and you're really big-souled, too. I'll
remember it always, Mr. Seabeck."
"Will you?" Seabeck looked down at her, with his hand upon the latch.
"Even if you are put in a position where you must pay that note--you
will still-- Hm-mm! I see. Before I go, Miss MacDonald, I should
like your permission to send a man down here to look after things."
"No, you mustn't." Billy Louise spoke with prompt decision. "Marthy
might think you were--you see, it wouldn't do. I'll see about getting
a man. If you will take this note up and leave it in the mail-box for
me, John Pringle will come up to-morrow. We'll manage all right."
"You're quite right. But, Miss MacDonald, there is something else.
I--er--should like to give you a little--wedding gift, since you
honored me with the news of your approaching--mm-m--marriage. As an
old neighbor, and one of your most sincere admirers, who would feel
greatly honored by your friendship, I--should like to have you accept
this--" He held something out to Billy Louise and pulled open the door
for instant escape. "Good night, Miss MacDonald. I think it will
storm." Then he was gone, hurrying down the narrow path with long
strides, his tall figure bent to the wind, his coat napping around his
lean legs.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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