“Are you going to teach me, sir?”
“No, I am going about my business,” replied Walter coolly, “for I can’t stay here any longer.”
“Well, sir, another time don’t interrupt anybody looking off.”
“I am willing any one should look at the Chair all day, Mr. Baggs. Good day, sir.”
Walter had said, “Well, I’ll treat him decently anyway,” but his last remark had an effect that does not generally follow “decent” remarks. Baggs trembled with excitement, blustered, almost foamed, and inquired stammeringly, “Why—why should I—look at—the Chair? Why—why—what have I done—to it—why—what have I done to the Chair? You, you’re mistaken, sir, you—”
Walter turned away in silence and walked on to the end of his beat. Baggs remained, muttering to himself as he looked toward the ill–omened rocks. When he did leave, he took the road leading to the village, passed through The Harbor and then followed the winding line of the water up to the mill.
“My nephew!” he exclaimed, and stopped as that brisk vigorous young trader approached.
“Not much trade stirring to–day,” remarked Chauncy, rubbing his hands.
“Won’t be in this hole,” replied the uncle gloomily.
“Oh, yes,” said Chauncy encouragingly, “it will come, it will come. Fact is, the weather is against us. You can’t force a market against the weather.”