Mr. Tidditt's scornful comments concerning “white feathers” and “backsliders” had no effect. Mr. Bangs perched himself on the fence.
“Give it to her, fellers!” he called after them.
“Talk Dutch to her! Let her know that there's one child she can't abuse.”
At the foot of the steps Asaph paused.
“Say, Cy,” he whispered, “don't you think I better not go in? It ain't really my business, you know, and—and—Well, I'm on the s'lectmen and she might be frightened if she see me pouncin' down on her. 'Tain't as if I was just a common man. I'll go and set along of Bailey and you go in and talk quiet to her. She'd feel so sort of ashamed if there was anyone else to hear the rakin' over—hey?”
“Now, see here, Ase,” expostulated the captain, “I don't like to do this all by myself! Besides, 'twas you chaps put me up to it. You ain't goin' to pull out of the race and leave me to go over the course alone, are you? Come on! what are, you afraid of?”
His companion hotly denied that he was “afraid” of anything. He had all sorts of arguments to back his decision. At last Captain Cy lost patience.
“Well, BE a skulk, if you want to!” he declared. “I've set out to see this thing through, and I'm goin' to do it. Only,” he muttered, as he entered the downstairs vestibule, “I wish I didn't feel quite so much as if I was stealin' hens' eggs.”
Miss Dawes herself opened the door in response to his knock.
“Oh, it's you, Cap'n Whittaker,” she said. “Come in, please.”