CHAPTER VI
THE BUD OF A ROMANCE
The little steamer Rockhaven was but a speck on the southern horizon, the fishermen that had earlier spread their wings were still in sight that June morning, and Jess Hutton, having swept his store, sat tilted back in an arm-chair on his piazza, smoking while he watched the white sails to the eastward, when a tall, well-formed, and city-garbed young man approached.
"My name's Hardy," he said, smiling as his brown eyes took in Jess and his surroundings at a glance, "and I represent Weston & Hill and have come to open and manage the quarry they own here. You are Mr. Hutton, I believe?"
Jess rose and extended a brown and wrinkled hand. "That's my name," he said, "'n' I'm glad ter see ye. But ter tell ye the truth, I never 'spected ter. It's been most a year now since yer boss landed here and bought my ledge o' stun, and I've made up my mind he did it jist fer fun, 'n' havin' money ter throw 'way. Hev a cheer, won't ye?" And stepping inside he brought one out.
Winn seated himself, and glancing down at the row of small, brown houses and sheds that fringed the harbor shore below them, and then across to where the ledge of granite faced them, replied, "Oh, Mr. Weston is not the man to throw away money, but it takes time to organize a company and get ready to operate a quarry;" and pausing to draw from an inside pocket a red pocketbook, and extracting a crisp bit of paper, he added, "the first duty, Mr. Hutton, is to pay the balance due you, and here is a check to cover it."
Jess eyed it curiously.
"It's good, I guess," he said as he looked it over, "but out here we don't use checks; it's money down or no trade."
Then without more words he arose, and limping a little as he entered the store, handed Winn a long, yellow envelope. "Here's the deed; an' the quarry's yourn, an' ye kin begin blasting soon's ye like."