“I presume likely. I guess you'll have to handle her the way another feller who used to live here in South Harniss said he handled his wife. 'We don't never have any trouble at all,' says he. 'Whenever she says yes or no, I say the same thing. Later on, when it comes to doin', I do what I feel like.' . . . Eh? You're not goin', are you, Mr. Fosdick?”
His visitor had risen and was reaching for his coat. Captain Zelotes also rose.
“Don't hurry, don't hurry,” he begged.
“Sorry, but I must. I want to be back in New York tomorrow morning.”
“But you can't, can you? To do that you'll have to get up to Boston or Fall River, and the afternoon train's gone. You'd better stay and have supper along with my wife and me, stay at our house over night, and take the early train after breakfast to-morrow.”
“I wish I could; I'd like nothing better. But I can't.”
“Sure?” Then, with a smile, he added: “Al needn't eat with us, you know, if his bein' there makes either of you feel nervous.”
Fosdick laughed again. “I think I should be willing to risk the nervousness,” he replied. “But I must go, really. I've hired a chap at the garage here to drive me to Boston in his car and I'll take the midnight train over.”
“Humph! Well, if you must, you must. Hope you have a comf'table trip, Mr. Fosdick. Better wrap up warm; it's pretty nigh a five-hour run to Boston and there's some cool wind over the Ostable marshes this time of year. Good-by, sir. Glad to have had this talk with you.”
His visitor held out his hand. “So am I, Snow,” he said heartily. “Mighty glad.”