“Oh, nothing much. She seems changed, that's all. She used to be so full of spirits, and so bright and lively. Now she is quiet and doesn't talk much. Looks thinner, too, and as if something was troubling her. Perhaps it is my imagination. When's John Doane coming down? 'Most time for him to be spending a Sunday with you, ain't it? Engaged folks don't usually stay apart more than a week, especially when the one is as near the other as Boston is to Trumet.”
Daniel knocked the ashes from his pipe into the wastebasket.
“Oh, oh, John'll be along pretty soon, I shouldn't wonder,” he said hastily. “He—he's pretty busy these days, I suppose.”
“Nice thing his bein' taken into the firm, after Mr. Griffin died, wasn't it. Well, he's a pretty smart fellow, John is, and he deserves to get ahead. Did he tell you the particulars about it?”
“No. No, not all of 'em. Is that a customer in the other room?”
Mr. Bangs hurried away to attend to the customer. The captain seized the opportunity to make a timely exit. He went into the house, remained a while with his wife, and then returned. Nathaniel had gone on an order-taking trip and Sam Bartlett, the boy, was in charge. Just as Daniel entered the store from the side door Gertrude came in at the front.
“Hello, Daddy,” she said. “All alone?”
“Not quite, but I'd just as soon be. Sam, go into the other room; I'll hail you if I need you. Gertie, come here. I want to have a talk with you.”
Gertrude came. She took her old position, perching upon the arm of her father's chair, with her own arm about his neck.
“Gertie,” began the captain, “what would you think of my makin' Nate Bangs a partner in this concern?”