V
No one came to molest them that day, or the next, or all that week, or that month, but this good fortune was counterbalanced by the fact that no customers came, either.
Mrs. Journay and her niece took turns in attending to the shop with the regularity of deck officers standing watch; and, having once arranged a schedule, they were[Pg 177] afraid to depart from it, for fear of admitting in any way that trade was not brisk. Lynn went on and on painting boxes, because, in the first place, they had a large stock to be painted, and, in the second place, she had nothing else to do; but the dismalness of sitting in that big, dim room, to see the boxes piling up on the shelves, and to make calculations which showed that the money decreased even faster than the boxes increased, was not a life to give animation to a girl, or comfort to an elderly lady.
Indeed, the only thing that supported them was their splendid, ridiculous Journay fortitude and obstinacy. They had gone into this thing without help or advice. They wouldn’t ask help or advice now, and they wouldn’t complain.
It was Lynn’s turn in the shop that afternoon. She sat there behind a long table on which were a tin cash box, wrapping paper, twine, and a pile of pretty little blue cards on which was printed:
Ye Olde New England Box Shoppe—Hand-decorated gift boxes for all purposes—Chests made to order.
She was sewing, but when she heard a step on the veranda she hid the sewing in a drawer and began to write busily on a pad. The front door was open, and the customer entered the room. Lynn looked up with an alert, businesslike expression—and it was that man!
“I’ve been away,” he began eagerly. “Otherwise—” He stopped short, looking at Lynn. “Is anything wrong?” he asked.
“No,” she said evenly.
For an instant her clear eyes rested on his face, and then they glanced away, as if he wasn’t worth regarding. She was not rude, or scornful, or awe-inspiring like her aunt, but her attitude was unmistakable.
“I’ll have to ask you to excuse me,” she said politely. “I’m busy this morning.”
Rising, she moved toward the door.
“No!” he cried. “Please wait! Please tell me what’s the matter! Every minute I’ve been away, I’ve been thinking of getting back and seeing you again. I—please don’t go! Just tell me!”
“I have nothing to tell you,” said Lynn, with energy. “I have nothing to say to you at all, except that I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t come again.”
Then she vanished. Before Jerry had recovered himself, he was confronted by his mortal enemy, Mrs. Journay.
“Kindly send your bill for the carpenter work you did,” said she, “and it will be attended to promptly.”
He tried a smile.
“That was just a little neighborly service—” he began.
“I prefer not to accept it as such,” she interrupted.
“Well, I prefer not to send bills,” said he, resolutely good-humored. “If you’ll allow me, I’ll introduce myself—”
“I do not allow you.”
“I’m sorry,” he replied firmly, “but it’s time it was done. I’m Mr. Sargent, your landlord.”
This was a blow to stagger Mrs. Journay, but she rallied superbly.
“Indeed!” said she. “Now I see it all! Very well, call your Cooper & Cooper to put us out. Let them—”
“But there’s no question of that!” he protested. “I’m only too glad—” She really was magnificent!
“I refuse to be under obligations to you,” she said. “Your agents may forbid me to do such and such a thing, and I shall do it. I defy them. I defy you. I intend to continue in this course until I am forcibly ejected. Instruct your Cooper & Cooper to that effect. I do not recognize you!”