“I wouldn’t care about that if he wasn’t so like a graveyard himself. I declare his look is like a hollow vault. If he wasn’t so smart I’d ’a’ sent for the Wells doctor long ago. I hate long white faces, myself, no matter how handsome they are, and when he touches me with that slender cold hand of his, the shivers go all over me so that he thinks I am struck with a chill. And so I am, but not with a natural one, I vow. If we lived in the olden times and such a man dared come around the death-beds of honest people such as live in this town, he’d have been burnt as a wizard.”
“Come, I won’t hear such talk about a neighbor, let alone a man who has more than once saved the lives of all of us. He’s queer; but who isn’t queer? He lives alone, and cooks and sleeps and doctors all in one room, like the miser he undoubtedly is, and won’t have anything to do with chick or child or man or woman who is not sick, unless you except the village’s protégée, Polly Earle, whom everybody notices and does for. But all this does not make him wicked or dangerous or uncanny even. That is, to those who used to know him when he was young.”
“And did you?”
“Wa’al, I guess I did, and a handsomer man never walked Boston streets, let alone the lanes of this poor village. They used to say in those days that he thought of marrying, but he changed his mind for some reason, and afterward grew into the kind of man you see. Good cause, I’ve no doubt, for it. Men like him don’t shut themselves up in a cage for nothing.”
“But——”
“Don’t let us talk any more about the doctor,” cried the lodger who did not have a dog. “You spoke of a little girl whom everybody does for. Why is that? The topic ought to be interesting.”
The landlord, who had talked more than his wont, frowned and filled his pipe, which had gone out. “Ask them fellers,” he growled; “or get my wife into a corner and ask her. She likes to spin long stories; I don’t.”
“Oh, I don’t care about asking anybody,” mumbled the stranger, who was a sallow-faced drummer with a weak eye and a sensual mouth. “I only thought——”
“She isn’t for any such as you, if that’s what you mean,” volunteered the straggler, taking up the burden of the talk. “She has been looked after by the village because her case was a hard one. She was an only child, and when she was but four her mother died, after a long and curious illness which no one understood, and three days after, her father—” The dog yelped. As no one was near him but his master, he must have been hurt by that master, but how, it was impossible to understand, for neither had appeared to move.
“Well, well,” cried the sallow young man, “her father——”