The Green Dolphin
“I may’s well, long’s I’m drivin’ through.”
“’Twill hurt Eben Snow’s feelin’s to have you go patronizin’ the Wilton
store instead of his.”
“He won’t know nothin’ about it.”
“Oh, he’ll know all right. Everybody knows everything in this town.
Folks read your inmost thoughts almost before you think ’em.”
At the words Asaph colored uncomfortably.
“Nobody’s goin’ to read my inmost thoughts,” he answered with a touch
of humor. “Eb Snow ain’t goin’ to be the wiser for any shoppin’ I do
unless you tell him.”
“I sha’n’t tell him nothin’. But he’ll know for all that. People will
see you drivin’ home an’ spy the bags of grain in the wagon.”
“I can’t help it,” returned Asaph with a mild suggestion of impatience.
“I’ve got the right to buy things where I please, ain’t I?”
“It’ll be nuts for Silas Nickerson to have you comin’ to Wilton to
shop. He’ll make no end of talk about it. He’ll tell folks you couldn’t
get no collars nor chicken-feed in Belleport an’ so had to tote over
there for ’em. He’s always crackin’ up his town. I thought he’d never
have done talkin’ when Bijah Sole picked a Wilton wife. Si said that
evidently our place couldn’t boast a smart woman. But when Lyman Bearse
up an’ answered that the trouble was the Belleport women were too smart
to marry Bijah he kinder quit braggin’.”
Asaph, however, failed to echo the guffaw that concluded the story.
He had started precipitately for the house.
“I must get to sprayin’,” called he, “before the sun rises higher.”
As he disappeared into the shed he caught a glimpse of Lemmy jogging
off down the lane, and to make sure no hard feeling existed between
them he waved cordially to his comrade. Then as he bent to stir into a
can a turquoise mixture of Bordeaux his brow wrinkled.
It was not pleasant to reflect that Silas Nickerson would probably
make similar assertions with regard to his marriage. Still Belleport
would be more ready to forgive him for wedding a Provincetown wife than
if she were a native of Wilton. That was some comfort.
Feverishly he sprayed his roses, and by keeping a tight rein on his
inclinations and not allowing himself to be led into hunting cut-worms,
thinning out his poppies, which sorely needed it, or weeding his iris
border, by eleven o’clock he was ready to set out for the adjoining
town. As he stole off as quietly as he could in his wagon he felt
guilty and selfish not to have delayed until afternoon and taken Lemmy
with him. The little man had no horse and keenly enjoyed a drive.
“But I just can’t take him today,” replied he to his conscience.
“Things are too ticklish. He might mess up everything. Some day I’ll
make it up to him. He shall have three or four rides--half a dozen.”
Thus quieting the accusations that assailed him, he turned into the
highway that edged the Belleport shore.
It was a day when to the very horizon the ocean was a dazzling reach of
blue flecked into splendor by the gold of the sun and the snowy sails
of scudding schooners. Little creeks that gave back the azure of the
sky cut paths across the marshes, dredging channels for themselves amid
swaying sedge, tough, salt, and vividly green. Inland in the bordering
swamps azalea was just coming into bloom and purple flags stained to
amethyst the dark pools of tide water. A vague satisfaction in this
beauty mingled with Asaph’s reveries as he drove along. The sea, the
ships, the tiny winding inlets were things he loved, things he would
not have been parted from at any price and yet things he every day
passed by with nothing more than a subconscious realization of their
existence.
Today his mind was much more engrossed by the thought of Althea or even
the collars and chicken-feed than by the glory of the world about him.
Nevertheless, he could not have been oblivious to it for he drank in
the cool breeze with pleasure and was dimly aware of the perfume of
sun-dried pine and budding roses.
The riot of color had faded into dull mist when he returned, and Lemuel
Gill was sitting on the front steps awaiting him.
“You’ve been an awful while,” called he in a tone of relief. “I was
’most afraid somethin’ had befell you.”
“Oh, no.”
“But you’ve been gone so long. I s’pose you ran afoul of Silas
Nickerson an’ couldn’t make your escape. What a critter he is for
wormin’ gossip out of folks! He’d keep a man in that store till
doomsday pumpin’ him. Get your collars?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Don’t tell me Silas didn’t have the size! My eye! Sorry as I am you
should be disappointed, I’m tickled to death he was out of ’em. Reckon
he was peeved enough to have somebody from Belleport ketch him nappin’.
He prides himself no end on never lettin’ his goods run out of stock.
Wait till I tell Eben Snow there warn’t a sixteen collar in the place.
He’ll be so pleased ’twill mor’n make up to him for your goin’ to
Wilton to shop.”
As Lemuel rubbed his hands and smiled, a dull red flush rose to Asaph’s
forehead.
“Silas warn’t out of collars fur’s I know.”
“What?”
“I didn’t ask for ’em.”
“O-h! Forgot ’em, eh?”
Receiving no answer he waited; then his face, clouded with ebbing
triumph, brightened.
“But you got your chicken-feed,” ventured he.
“I didn’t get anything. I didn’t go near the Wilton post-office.”
“What on earth have you been doin’ till this time of night?”
“Visitin’ at Zenas Henry’s.”
“You mean to say you’ve been at Brewsters’ ever since eleven o’clock
this mornin’?”
“I didn’t get there till close onto noon,” explained Asaph, a warning
note of annoyance giving crispness to his embarrassment.
“An’ you’ve been hangin’ round there till now?”
The picture presented was so unflattering the lover flinched.
“I’ve been there, yes.”
“What doin’?”
“Talkin’.”
“Zenas Henry must have had an awful lot to say. What was the news?”
Lemmy drew closer, his eyes avid with interest.
“I warn’t talkin’ with him. He warn’t home.”
“Oh, the Three Captains were holdin’ forth, were they? Benjamin Todd’s
a great gossip. He can spin a yarn out of most anythin’. I like to
listen to him myself when he gets well a-goin’.”
There was no help for it. Asaph saw the truth must out.
“None of the Captains were home, neither. They’d gone fishin’.”
“Wal’, Abbie Brewster is an entertainin’ woman but I never knew of your
spendin’ hours in her company before.”
“She warn’t there. She’d gone to Brockton.”
Mystified, Lemmy stroked his chin.
“Then who in tunket was you talkin’ to?” he burst out.
“A friend of Abbie’s who’s a-visitin’.”
“A woman?”
Asaph nodded.
Lemuel looked dazed.
“Seems to me I did hear down to the store the Brewsters had somebody
stayin’ with ’em,” said he slowly. “But you certainly warn’t talkin’ to
her from high noon till most supper time.”
“’Twarn’t really long when you come to think of it.”
“’Twas about five hours.”
“Mebbe.”
“’Twas all of that.” Lemuel appeared for a moment to be bereft of
words. Then he added with a touch of malice: “She must ’a’ been
almighty interestin’.”
“She was,” was the curt retort.
Something in its tartness, something in his friend’s flushed
countenance and the sudden movement he made to bend and pull a blade of
grass from the roadside caused Lemuel Gill to crumple up weakly against
the picket fence.
“Lord!” he murmured.
“It ain’t goin’ to make a mite of difference twixt you an’ me, Lemmy,”
his companion declared eagerly. “We’re goin’ on with our gardenin’ an’
all same’s before. Althea’s got to expect that. In fact as I figger it,
I’m goin’ to have more time for diggin’ round an’ workin’ at my plants
married than single. More leisure for readin’ too, I hope. Althea’s an
awful nice woman, Lemmy. You’ll like her. You can’t help it. She’s a
fine cook, too. I had a chance to sample some of her bakin’ this noon
an’ ’twas good as any I ever ate. Take everything together seems to me
I’m goin’ to be better off than I ever was in my life. If only you--”
The onrush of his words was halted by sudden timidity.
“If I don’t mind, you mean?” Lemmy contrived to stammer. “Pshaw!
’Course I don’t. ’Most everybody marries--some of ’em two an’ three
times. I’d be a great kind of a friend if I was to stand in the way of
your bein’ happy. Don’t go worryin’ about me. Most likely I sha’n’t
give the matter a second thought.”
For all his bluster, the bravado the little man tried to maintain
weakened toward the final clause of his sentence and there was a quaver
in the words.
A wave of self accusation swept over Asaph.
Only too well he realized his happiness had been purchased at a
price--the price of Lemmy Gill’s.
CHAPTER III
It was July when Asaph Holmes made Althea his wife and brought her home
to Belleport. The marriage was a quiet one, taking place at Abington,
the residence of her sister, and even Lemuel Gill did not attend it.
“’Course I’ll go, Asaph, if you say the word,” asserted the little man,
“though it does seem kinder foolish for me to traipse way up there for
a ten-minute ceremony. Nevertheless if there’s aught of comfort in
havin’ me at hand I’m ready to stand by.”
“I know you are, Lemmy,” was the earnest reply. “But there wouldn’t be
the least use in your goin’.”
“I ’magined there wouldn’t,” Lemuel answered with evident relief.
“It’s one of them times, I guess, when only heaven can help you. So I
reckon the best thing I can do is to stay behind an’ keep a weather
eye on your belongin’s. There’ll be ice to get in against your return,
an’ butter, too; an’ should the weather be dry the garden will need
waterin’. You can’t leave the whole place to go to the dogs even if you
are gettin’ married.”
The tart comment that concluded Lemuel’s words was the first he had
uttered and his crony generously passed it by.
“It will be mighty reassurin’ to know somebody’s at this end of the
route,” declared he. “A house gets musty when it’s shut up an’ though I
don’t plan to be away mor’n a few days I’ll feel a lot easier with you
on the spot. Of course there’ll be Hannah Dole. I had to send for her
to come an’ straighten things up. There’s been so many odds an’ ends
round lately owin’ to spring plantin’ an’ all that I’ve run into one of
them crowded spells. However, this visit will be her last--thank the
Lord for that!”
For the first time he smiled into the eyes of his colleague--one of his
frank, whimsical smiles--and Lemuel smiled back.
“Under those conditions you may’s well give Hannah your blessin’ an’
let her do her darndest,” drawled he.
Each man drew a breath of relief that the delicate situation had been
so amicably adjusted.
Lemuel never went on journeys now-a-days. In the past he had been a
continual wanderer, cruising as cook on a freighter to almost every
port under the sun and having no permanent abode. But now that he
had abandoned the sea and had a domicil of his own he could not be
coaxed away from it. For years he had not been out of Belleport.
Having indulged himself in this stay-at-home habit he had become
so unaccustomed to travel that its complexities terrified him until
even a short detour from his own threshold assumed the nerve-racking
proportions of a voyage round the globe.
In the particular instance of Asaph’s marriage, he not only dreaded
going away but also shrank from braving through in the presence
of strangers an event which at best could be nothing for him but
an ordeal. Besides, he had nothing to wear--a feminine reason, he
humorously conceded, but in his case a very real one. His wardrobe
was not a thing that normally interested him. Indeed it was the last
consideration in his budget (if he boasted a budget). So long as his
garments could be coaxed to hang together he wore them regardless of
their appearance, rating such accessories as shirt and collars of very