CHAPTER XXXV
“A girl with a new ring allus hez trouble with her hair.” –Old Cy Walker.
As might be expected, Chip gave Aunt Abby a full recital of her morning’s episode as soon as she entered the house, and with it her comments upon this smooth-spoken young man.
“He reeled off flattery by the yard,” she said, “and no matter how I took it, or how sharply I set him back, he kept at it. The way he piled it on was almost funny, just as though he thought I believed it. Of course I didn’t, not a word, and what’s more I wouldn’t trust him farther than I could see him. He’s got shifty eyes, and Cy once told me never to believe a man with such eyes. He wants me to go sailing with him to-morrow, and I said I would go if you were asked. I knew you wouldn’t go, however.”
“Of course not,” answered Aunt Abby, severely, “and his asking you in such a way was almost an insult. If he had meant well, he would have said he was taking other friends out and would have asked us both to join them. I should not have consented to that even, however. These summer people are not our sort, and to accept such favors from them is to put ourselves in a fair way of being laughed at. I would advise, also, that you have no more to say to this young man. It will not reflect credit upon you if you do.”
That afternoon, while Chip practised upon her banjo, it being vacation time, Aunt Abby called upon several neighbors with news-gathering intent. She succeeded to the fullest, and that evening related it to Chip.
“This Mr. Goodnow has been here about two weeks,” she said, “and is boarding at Captain Perkins’s. He came in a small steam yacht he claims he owns, and has been going about with three ladies who are stopping at the Mix House. Two of them are sisters, the Misses Wilson, and a Mrs. Simpson, a widow. He seems the most devoted to the widow. They have been out driving quite often, and once or twice she has been sailing with him alone. It’s all right, of course, only she being a good deal older than he is, makes it seem curious. When he calls here to-morrow, as I suppose he will, I’d better see him.”
He called quite early the next morning, as may be guessed, and a more picture-book yachtsman Aunt Abby never set eyes upon. His white duck shoes, trousers, and cap, white flannel coat, dark blue silk shirt, jaunty sailor tie and russet belt, all completed an attire so spick and span that it seemed that he must have just emerged from a tailor shop.
But Aunt Abby was not awed overmuch. She had seen his like before, and met him at her door with serene self-possession.
“I am Mr. Goodnow,” he explained with easy assurance, “and Miss Raymond has kindly consented to accept a few hours’ enjoyment in my yacht if you will also honor me.” And he bowed again.