He held Jim
in slight esteem.
Jim laughed lightly. Unless he cared for people, their opinion of him
always seemed a perfectly negligible matter, and he did not care at
all for Amos Whittle.
Suddenly, to his amazement, Amos took hold of his coat. "Look a'
here, Jim," said he.
"Well?"
"Do you know anything about that strange woman that's boardin' to
Mis' Solomon Black's?"
"How in creation should I know anything about her?"
"Hev you seen her?"
"I saw her at the fair tonight."
"The fair at my house?"
"Don't know of any other fair."
"Well, what do you think of her?"
"Don't think of her."
Jim tried to pass, but the old man danced before him with his
swinging lantern.
"I must be going along," said Jim.
"Wait a minute. Do you know she bought the whole fair?"
"Yes, I do. You are blinding me with that lantern, Deacon Whittle."
"And she paid good money down. I seen it."
"All right. I've got to get past you."
"Wait a minute. Do you s'pose that young woman is all right?"
"I don't see why not. Nothing against the law of the land for her to
buy out a church fair, that I know of."
"Don't you think it looks sort of suspicious?"
"It's none of my business. I confess I don't see why it's suspicious,
unless somebody wants to make her out a fool. I don't understand what
any sane person wants with all that truck; but I don't pretend to
understand women."
Whittle shook his head slowly. "I dunno," he said.
"Well, I don't know who does, or cares either.
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