“Nothing. Guess I might's well get to work.”
“Just as you like.”
The men looked surprised when he joined them. He was nervous and he worked both himself and them at a pace that wore them out in a few hours. But at six o'clock, when the whistle blew, and he put on his coat and went back to the boarding-house, he felt refreshed.
On Sunday, after several days of hesitating over the best way to get Bruce's things to Mamie, Hunch gathered up the bundles and the valise, and took the noon train to Liddington. He sat for two hours in the station before he could make up his mind to take them to Joe Cartier's house. When he finally knocked at the door, Joe's wife opened it.
“How d'ye do, Mr. Badeau? Come in, won't you?”
“No, I can't,” said Hunch. “Hold on; yes, I will, too, just a minute. Where's Joe?”
“Here he is,” replied Joe himself, coming through the hall in his shirt-sleeves. “Come in, and set down.”
Hunch stepped in and dropped the bundles in the corner.
“Can I speak to you a minute, Joe?”
“Sure thing. Walk in the front room. Martha, I could swear Hunch ain't had his dinner. Fetch out some of the chicken and potatoes. It ain't so hot as it was, Hunch, but it's good, plain stuff—good enough for us, ain't it, Martha?”