I grinned. "Yes," says I, "but Shelton's prejudiced, I'm afraid. He and old Major Clark ate a chowder once that I cooked and ever since they've both swore by me."
He laughed, though I could see Shelton hadn't told him the yarn.
"Humph!" says he, "that's unusual, isn't it? Judgin' by some chowders I've eaten, it would be easier to swear at the cook. Speakin' of eatables, though, reminds me that I'm hungry. Where's a good place to get a meal around here?"
"Nowhere," says I, prompt; "not at this season of the year, with the summer dinin'-room closed. But, if you'll wait until my assistant gets back, I'll pilot you down to the Poquit House, where I feed, and we'll face the wust together."
He was willin' to risk it, he said, and we walked back and set down in the post-office department. As we left the front door Sim Kelley went out of it, luggin' his West-End mail box. Peters and I talked. Seems he hadn't come to the Cape a-purpose to investigate me, but he had a job at the Bayport office and had took me in on the way home. After a spell Mary come back and Peters and I headed for the Poquit, where the cold fish balls and warmed-over beans was waitin'.
On the way I saw old man Hamilton, Ike's uncle, totterin' along, headin' to the west'ard this time. I pointed him out to Peters.
"There goes," I says, "one of the fellers that's trying to knock me out of my job."
"Humph!" says he; "he looks pretty near knocked out himself. Why, he's all bent out of shape."
"Yes," I told him. "Ichabod's bent, but he's far from broke. And a tough old limb like him stands a lot of bendin'."
I was feelin' pretty good. With a square man like this Peters to look into matters, I cal'lated I'd be postmaster for a spell yet.