The Woman-Haters Part 19

He paused and wiped his forehead with the towel. The young lady burst into a peal of laughter, in which the stout woman joined. The laugh was so infectious that even Brown was obliged to smile.

"I apologize," he stammered. "I didn't mean that exactly as it sounded.

I'm not responsible mentally--yet--I guess."

"I don't wonder." It was the stout woman who answered. The girl had turned away and was looking out the window; her shoulders shook. "I shouldn't think you would be. Hauled in bodily, as you might say, and shut up in a room to fight wasps! And by folks you never saw afore and don't know from Adam! You needn't apologize. I'd forgive you if you said somethin' a good deal worse'n that. I'm long past the age where I'm sensitive about my weight, thank goodness."

"And we ARE so much obliged to you." The girl was facing him once more, and she was serious, though the corners of her mouth still twitched.

"The whole affair is perfectly ridiculous," she said, "but Mrs. Bascom was frightened and so was I--when I had time to realize it. Thank you again."

"You're quite welcome, I'm sure. No trouble at all."

The a.s.sistant turned to go. His brain was beginning to regain a little of its normal poise, and he was dimly conscious that he had been absent from duty quite long enough.

"Maybe you'd like to know who 'tis you've helped," observed the stout woman. "And, considerin' that we're likely to be next-door neighbors for a spell, I cal'late introductions are the proper thing. My name's Bascom. I'm housekeeper for Miss Ruth Graham. This is Miss Graham."

The young lady offered a hand. Brown took it.

"Graham?" he repeated. "Where?" Then, remembering a portion of what Seth had told him, he added, "I see! the--the artist?"

"My brother is an artist. He and his friend, Mr. Hamilton, own this bungalow. They are abroad this summer, and I am going to camp here for a few weeks--Mrs. Bascom and I. I paint a little, too, but only for fun."

Brown murmured a conventionality concerning his delight at meeting the pair, and once more headed for the door. But Mrs. Bascom's curiosity would not permit him to escape so easily.

"I thought," she said, "when I see you standin' over there by the lights, that you must be one of the keepers. Not the head keeper--I knew you wa'n't him--but an a.s.sistant, maybe. But I guess you're only a visitor, Mister--Mister--?"

"Brown."

"Yes, Mr. Brown. I guess you ain't no keeper, are you?"

"I am the a.s.sistant keeper at present. Yes."

"You don't say!" Mrs. Bascom looked surprised. So, too, did Miss Graham.

"You don't look like a lighthouse keeper," continued the former. "Oh, I don't mean your clothes!" noticing the young man's embarra.s.sed glance at his wet and far from immaculate garments. "I mean the way you talk and act. You ain't been here long, have you?"

"No."

"Just come this summer?"

"Yes."

"I thought so. You ain't a Cape Codder?"

"No."

"I was sure you wa'n't. Where DO you come from?"

Brown hesitated. Miss Graham, noticing his hesitation, hastened to end the inquisition.

"Mr. Brown can't stop to answer questions, Mrs. Bascom," she said. "I'm sure he wants to get back to his work. Good morning, Mr. Brown. No doubt we shall see each other often, being the only neighbors in sight. Call again--do. I solemnly promise that you shall have to fight no more wasps."

"Say!" The stout woman took a step forward. "Speakin' of wasps . . .

stand still a minute, Mr. Brown, won't you. What's them lumps on your forehead? Why, I do believe you've been bit. You have, sure and sartin!"

Miss Graham was very much concerned. "Oh, no!" she exclaimed; "I hope not. Let me see."

"No, indeed!" The a.s.sistant was on the step by this time and moving rapidly. "Nothing at all. No consequence. Good morning."

He almost ran down the hill and crossed the creek at the wading place.

As he splashed through, the voice of the housekeeper reached his ears.

"Cold mud's the best thing," she screamed. "Put it on thick. It takes out the smart. Good and thick, mind!"

For the next hour or two the lightkeeper's helper moved about his household tasks in a curious frame of mind. He was thoroughly angry--or thought he was--and very much disturbed. Neighbors of any kind were likely to be a confounded nuisance, but two women! Heavens! And the stout woman was sure to be running in for calls and to borrow things. As for the other, she seemed a nice girl enough, but he never wanted to see another girl, nice or otherwise. Her eyes were pretty, so was her hair, but what of it? Oh, hang the luck! Just here he banged his swollen forehead on the sharp edge of the door, and found relief in profanity.

Seth Atkins was profane, also, when he heard the news. Brown said nothing until his superior discovered with his own eyes that the bungalow was open. Then, in answer to the lightkeeper's questions, came the disclosure of the truth.

"Women!" roared Seth. "You say there's two WOMEN goin' to live there? By Judas! I don't believe it!"

"Go and see for yourself, then," was the brusque answer.

"I sha'n't, neither. Who told you?"

"They did."

"They DID? Was you there?"

"Yes."

"What for? I thought you swore never to go nigh a woman again."

"I did, but--well, it wasn't my fault. I--"

"Yes? Go on."

"I went because I couldn't help myself. Went to help some one else, in fact. I expected to find Graham and that other artist. But--"

"Well, go ON."

"I was stung," said Mr. Brown, gloomily, and rubbed his forehead.

CHAPTER IX

THE BUNGALOW GIRL

During the following day the occupants of the lightkeeper's dwelling saw little or nothing of the newcomers at the bungalow. Brown, his forehead resembling a section of a relief map of the Rocky Mountains, remained indoors as much as possible, working when there was anything to do, and reading back-number magazines when there was not. Seth went, as usual, to his room soon after noon. His slumbers must, however, have been fitful ones, for several times the subst.i.tute a.s.sistant, turning quickly, saw the bedroom door swing silently shut. The third time that this happened he ran to the door and threw it open in season to catch Mr. Atkins in an undignified dive for the bed. A tremendous snore followed the dive. The young man regarded him in silence for a few moments, during which the snores continued. Then he shook his head.