"Eh? . . . I—I do mean it. . . . I hope—I hope you'll be real happy, both of you, ma'am."
"Oh, not that—Ruth."
"Yes—yes, sartin, of course . . . Ruth, I mean."
She left him standing by the writing table. After she had gone he sank slowly down into the chair again. Eight o'clock struck and he was still sitting there. . . . And Fate chose that time to send Captain Sam Hunniwell striding up the walk and storming furiously at the back door.
"Jed!" roared the captain. "Jed Winslow! Jed!"
Jed lifted his head from his hands. He most decidedly did not wish to see Captain Sam or any one else.
"Jed!" roared the captain again.
Jed accepted the inevitable. "Here I am," he groaned, miserably.
The captain did not wait for an invitation to enter. Having ascertained that the owner of the building was within, he pulled the door open and stamped into the kitchen.
"Where are you?" he demanded.