“Undertaker. Him, the Bangs one. Yesterday 'twas remains, to-day it's graveyards. My savin' soul, I—”
“Hush, hush! Have you thought to get that dictionary from Lulie yet?”
“Oh, now, ma'am, I snum if I didn't forget it. I'll go right over this minute.”
“No, you won't. I'll go myself after dinner.”
That Sunday dinner was a bountiful repast and Galusha ate more than he had eaten in three meals at his mountain hotel. He was a trifle tired from his morning's stroll and so decided to remain indoors until the following day. After the table was cleared Miss Phipps, leaving Primmie to wash the dishes, went over to the light keeper's house.
“I'll be back soon, Mr. Bangs,” she said. “If you get lonesome go out into the kitchen and Primmie'll talk to you. Goodness gracious!” she added, laughing, “that's a dreadful choice I'm leavin' you—lonesomeness or Primmie. Well, I won't leave you to either long.”
During the meal he had told them of his chance discovery of the old church and graveyard and of the loss of the brown derby. Primmie plainly regarded the catastrophe to the hat as a serious matter.
“Well, now, if that ain't too bad!” she exclaimed. “Blowed right out to sea, and 'most brand-new, too. My savin' soul, Miss Martha, folks ought to be careful what they say, hadn't they?... Eh, hadn't they?”
“Oh, I guess so, Primmie. I don't know what you're talkin' about. Can't I help you to a little more of the chicken pie, Mr. Bangs? Just a little BIT more?”
Galusha had scarcely time to decline the third helping of chicken pie when Primmie plunged again into the conversation.