"I see," she says, slow and so frosty I pretty nigh shivered. "I—see!"
"Well," says I, "'tain't anything I'm proud of, I will admit; but—"
"One moment, if you please. You haven't actually got the contract yet?"
"No. As I told you, all I know is what this consarned fo'mast hand of mine says. For what he's done, I'm ashamed as I can be. As for Mr. Jacobs, I know he did keep to the letter of the agreement, anyhow. For the rest—Well, all's fair in love and war, they say—and there's precious little love in business."
She looked at me, with a queer little smile about the corners of her lips, though her eyes wa'n't smilin', by a consider'ble sight.
"Isn't there?" she says. "I—I wonder. Good-by, Cap'n Snow. You might tell Mr. Jacobs not to order those Nonesuch screens just yet."
Out she went; and for the next five minutes I had a real enjoyable time. I told 'Dolph Cahoon just what I thought of him—that took four of the minutes; durin' the other one I fired him and run him out of the office by the scruff of the neck.
Then Mary Blaisdell and me held officers' council, and that ended by our decidin' not to tell Jim Henry that the Lentz girl knew why he'd been so friendly with her. It wouldn't do any good and might make him feel bad. Besides, the contract was as good as got, 'cordin' to 'Dolph's yarn; and 'twa'n't likely he'd see Georgianna again, anyway. When he come back I told him I'd fired Cahoon for bein' no good and sassy, and he agreed I'd done just right.
When I said good night to him he was chipper as could be; but next day he was blue as a whetstone—and the blueness seemed to strike in, so to speak. He didn't take any interest in anything—moped round, glum and ugly; and I couldn't get him to talk at all. If I mentioned the screen contract he shut up like a quahaug, and only once did he give an opinion about it. That opinion was a surprisin' one, though.
Alpheus Perkins was in the store, and says he: