“Captain,” I said, “you are not consistent. When you and I first talked about the Lane you said that you would not blame me if I closed it. If it was yours you wouldn't have Tom, Dick, and Harry driving fish carts through it.”
“Did I say that?”
“Yes. And you said, on another occasion, that anyone would sell anything if they were offered money enough.”
“Humph! Well, sometimes I say 'most anything but my prayers. Matildy says I forget them pretty often, but I tell her her Friday night speeches are long enough to make up. Maybe I meant what I said to you at those times, Ros. I shouldn't wonder if I did. But 'twas a lie just the same. There are things I wouldn't sell, of course. Nellie, my daughter's one of 'em. She's goin' to get a good husband in George here, but her happiness means more to me than money. She's one of the things I wouldn't sell. And my Selectman's job is another. I fought for that, not so much for the honor, or whatever you call it, but because—well, because I wanted to show 'em that I could get it if I set out to. I don't presume likely you can understand that feelin'.”
“I think I can,” I answered. “Mr. Colton gave about the same reason for his determination to close the Lane. You and he seem to be a good deal alike, after all.”
He looked at me from beneath his bushy brows. His mouth twisted in a grim smile.
“Say, son,” he said, “if I hadn't been so free with my proclamations about bein' your friend you and me would have a settlement for that little bit of talk. The Emperor and me alike! Ugh!”
The next afternoon he came in again and asked me to step outside the railing. He had something to say to me, he declared.
We sat down together on the settee by the wall.
“Ros,” he said, in a low tone, “have you had any new offer for your property? Not from Colton or the town, but from anybody else?”