“Yes, wasn't it?” said Martha. “Well, the doctor was very anxious that I should not sell at a cent less than fifteen dollars a share. I wonder what he, or Raish Pulcifer either, would say if they knew I HAD sold already, and for as much as father paid, too. Oh, I wonder if Raish has been to see Cap'n Jeth yet. He won't buy HIS shares for any eight dollars a piece, he can be sure of that.”
Galusha nodded; he was sure of it, too.
“But,” said Martha, ending the conversation for the time, “why do you suppose Raish is buyin' at all? What is goin' on, anyway?”
She was by no means the only one who was asking that question. Three days later Captain Jethro asked Galusha the same thing. They met in the lane leading to the village and the light keeper approached the subject without preamble.
“Say, Mr. Bangs,” he demanded, “what's Raish Pulcifer cal'late he's doin'?”
Galusha smiled. “I thank you for the compliment, Captain Hallett,” he said, “but my intuition cannot keep pace with Mr. Pulcifer's—ah—calculations. No, indeed.”
Jethro pulled his beard. “I asked you,” he said, solemnly, “what Raish Pulcifer cal'lated he was doin' buyin' up Development stock? Do you know?”
“No. Is he buying it?”
“If you ain't heard that he is, you're about the only one in East Wellmouth. Ain't you heard it?”
Galusha would have liked to change the subject, but with Jethro Hallett that was not an easy task, as he knew from experience. He did not immediately make the attempt.