"On paper," said Mr. Gamut with a laugh. "Oh, yes, I know about Sir Ferdinand Gorges and his remarkable charter. Here are some of the coats of arms of the first settlers," exclaimed Mr. Gamut. "Do you suppose they wore them tied around their necks when they first came out?"
"Not exactly," responded Martine, detecting Mr. Gamut's scepticism.
"Well, I'm only a plain western man," continued the latter, "and I rather think that coats of arms and things of that kind didn't trouble the first settlers in spite of all this foolery," and he pointed to the colors blazoned on the shield and scrolls on the walls.
"They're pretty to look at," apologized Martine.
"Oh, yes, and I suppose people of a certain name have an uncertain right to claim these heraldic ornaments, but for my own part, I prefer something more substantial. Things like this appeal to me more," and he led Martine to a little cradle in which Sir William Pepperell slept in his babyhood. "Or even this," and he pointed out a small table at which Handkerchief Moody used to eat by himself.
"Who in the world was 'Handkerchief Moody'?"
"His story is one of the few York tales that I can tell," replied Mr. Gamut, smiling. "And you ought to know it too, young lady, because Hawthorne, in his way, has immortalized it. This Moody was the son of one of the ministers of the old church; he was intended for the law, but having accidentally killed a friend while out hunting, his father persuaded him to enter the ministry. Remorse, however, so preyed on him that he spent his life in comparative solitude, and whenever he went in public, it is said, he covered his face with a handkerchief; different reasons have been given for his strange behavior, and it may be that he was always mildly insane. At least, there must be some truth in the stories told about him."
Martine, impressed by this curious story, was silent for a few minutes.
"There's one thing," she said, "that I have learned about the old people of York; they must have set what Angelina would call a very handsome table. I've seldom seen in one place so many fine old cups and saucers and drinking glasses and decanters."
"These things don't fit exactly our theories about New England plain living and high thinking. I tell you what, object lessons often teach us much more than books. But now," and Mr. Gamut looked at his watch, "I'm sorry to see that I must hurry back to the house; I am visiting a cousin for a few days and if you'll tell me where your cottage is, I shall have a great deal of pleasure in calling on you and your mother."