“Why, you see, 'cause—'cause—well, you was talkin' yesterday about interestin' remains and—and all this forenoon you was over in the cemetery and said you had such a good time there and... and I couldn't see why anybody, unless he was an undertaker, or—or a medium maybe, would call bein' around with dead folks havin' a good time... Quit your laughin', Zach Bloomer; you didn't know what Mr. Bangs' trade was any more'n I did.”
Mr. Bloomer cleared his throat. “Mr. Bangs,” he observed sadly, “didn't I tell you she'd make a ship out of a shingle? If you'd puffed smoke, and whistled once in a while, she'd have cal'lated you must be a tugboat.”
Galusha smiled.
“I am an archaeologist,” he said. “I think I told you that, Primmie.”
Primmie looked blank. “Yes,” she admitted, “you did, but—”
Zacheus finished the sentence.
“But you didn't tell TOO much when you told it,” he said. “What kind of an ark did you say?”
And then Galusha explained. The fact that any one in creation should not know what an archaeologist was seemed unbelievable, but a fact it evidently was. So he explained and the explanation, under questioning, became lengthy. Primmie's exclamations, “My savin' soul” and “My Lord of Isrul” became more and more frequent. Mr. Bloomer interjected a remark here and there. At length a sound outside caused him to look out of the window.
“Here comes the old man and Martha,” he said. “Cal'late I'd better be gettin' back aboard. Can't leave Lulie to tend light all the time. Much obliged to you, Mr. Bangs. You've cruised around more'n I give you credit for. Um-hm. Any time you want to know about a lightship or—or lobsterin' or anything, I'd be pleased to tell you. Good-day, sir. So long—er—Sweet William. See you later.”
The “Sweet William” was addressed to Primmie, of course. The bow-legged little man, rolling from side to side like the lightship of which he talked so much, walked out of the room. A moment later Martha Phipps and Captain Jethro Hallett entered it.