Jake’s hobby was gardening, and he was never more satisfied than when at work with the flowers. The sun and wind had tanned his wrinkled face but it had brought a glow of health which had not been there when Wardell Force had first brought him to Chilton. At that time Jake had been broken in body and in spirit, but fresh air, good food and kindness had made a new man of him. His hair, which was streaked with gray, seldom was combed, and his garments usually bore the stamp of his work. He walked with a noticeable stoop.
Jake was a rather silent man and seldom spoke unless addressed. He kept to himself and when not working about the grounds usually stayed alone in his room. Seemingly, he lived only for the present, as he never mentioned the past and took the future for granted. Of his devotion to Wardell Force and Doris, there was not the slightest question.
“Jake, you used to work in Rumson before you came here, didn’t you?” Mr. Force questioned.
“Yes, sir.” Jake avoided the other’s eyes. Any reference to his past usually caused him to withdraw into his shell, but with Wardell Force he was more free.
“Do you remember a Gates house there, Jake?”
“Yes, sir, I remember the place well. A gloomy house it was, sir. Many a night I had to pass it after dark, and it sort of gave me the creeps.”
“I didn’t think anything could give you the creeps,” Mr. Force said with an understanding smile.
“Neither did I, sir, but that house—you never saw a soul enter or leave. Folks said the gates had rusted shut. But why are you askin’, Mr. Force?”
“Doris was thinking of going there for a short visit.”
Jake shook his head as he picked up the rake.