Mr. Keeler looked over his spectacles. “Eh?” he observed. “Oh, yes, yes . . . yes, yes, yes. And say good-by to Helen for me, some of you, if you happen to think of it. Not that 'twill make much difference to her,” he added, “whether she gets my good-bys or not, but it might make some to me. . . . Um, yes, yes.”
Mr. Price was eager to oblige.
“I'll tell her you sent 'em, Labe,” he said, patronizingly. “Set your mind to rest; I'll tell her.”
Laban's lip twitched. “Much obliged, Is,” he chirruped. “That's a great relief! My mind's rested some already.”
So, instead of going alone to the railway station, Albert made one of a delegation of three. And at the station was Mr. Kendall, and two of the school committee, and one or two members of the church sewing circle, and the president and secretary of the Society for the Relief of the French Wounded. So far from being an intimate confidential farewell, Helen's departure was in the nature of a public ceremony with speech-making. Mr. Price made most of the speeches, in fact the lower portion of his countenance was in violent motion most of the ten minutes.
“Take care of yourself, Helen,” he urged loudly. “Don't you worry about your pa, we'll look out for him. And don't let none of them Boston fellers carry you off. We'll watch and see that Eddie Raymond and Al here don't get into mischief while you're gone. I . . . Crimustee! Jim Young, what in time's the matter with you? Can't ye see nothin'?”
This last outburst was directed at the driver of the depot-wagon, who, wheeling a trunk on a baggage truck, had bumped violently into the rear of Mr. Price's legs, just at the knee joint, causing their owner to bend backward unexpectedly, and with enthusiasm.
“Can't you see nothin' when it's right in front of ye?” demanded Issachar, righteously indignant.
Jim Young winked over his shoulder at Albert. “Sorry, Is,” he said, as he continued toward the baggage car. “I didn't notice you WAS in front of me.”
“Well, then, you'd better. . . . Eh? See here, what do you mean by that?”