It was the hardware dealer who spoke first. And that, by the way, was precisely what he had not meant to do.
"Yes," he observed, with caustic sarcasm, "it's me. You needn't stand there blinkin' like a fool any longer, Shavin's. It's me."
Jed set the lamp upon the table. He drew a long breath, apparently of relief.
"Why, so 'tis," he said, solemnly. "When I first saw you sittin' there, Phin, I had a suspicion 'twas you, but the longer I looked the more I thought 'twas the President come to call. Do you know," he added, confidentially, "if you didn't have any whiskers and he looked like you you'd be the very image of him."
This interesting piece of information was not received with enthusiasm. Mr. Babbitt's sense of humor was not acutely developed.
"Never mind the funny business, Shavin's," he snapped. "I didn't come here to be funny to-night. Do you know why I came here to talk to you?"
Jed pulled forward a chair and sat down.
"I presume likely you came here because you found the door unlocked, Phin," he said.
"I didn't say HOW I came to come, but WHY I came. I knew where you was this afternoon. I see you when you left there and I had a good mind to cross over and say what I had to say before the whole crew, Sam Hunniwell, and his stuck-up rattle-head of a daughter, and that Armstrong bunch that think themselves so uppish, and all of 'em."
Mr. Winslow stirred uneasily in his chair. "Now, Phin," he protested, "seems to me—"