“Mr. Bangs. I ran over to Martha's for a minute or two, and he walked home with me.”
“Good-evening, Captain Hallett,” hailed Galusha. Captain Jethro pulled his beard.
“Humph!” he grunted. “Humph! Mr. Bangs, eh?... Humph! I thought—Cal'late I must have fell asleep on the sofy and been dreamin'.... Humph!... Lulie, you better come in now, it's chilly out here. Mr. Bangs can come, too, I suppose likely—if he wants to.”
It was not the most cordial of invitations and Galusha did not accept it.
“I must get back to the house, Captain,” he said. “It IS chilly, as you say. No doubt he is right, Lulie. You mustn't stay. Good-night.”
“But, Mr. Bangs, you haven't finished your story.”
“Eh? Dear me, so I haven't. Well—”
“Lulie!” Captain Jethro's voice was fretful. “Lulie, you come along in now. I want you.”
Lulie shook her head resignedly. “Yes, father,” she replied, “I'm coming this minute. You see?” she whispered. “He is getting back all the impatience and—and strangeness that he had last fall. It is that dreadful spirit business. Oh, dear!”
Galusha softly patted her shoulder. “I won't finish my story,” he said, in a low tone. “It isn't necessary, because I can tell you the—ah—moral, so to speak, and that will do as well. We found those tombs at last by doing a thing which, we were all sure, was the worst thing we could possibly do. It turned out to be that 'worst thing' which saved us. And—and I wish you would think that over, Lulie,” he added, earnestly. “It looked to be the very worst thing and—and it turned out to be the best.... Ah—good-night.”