Mrs. Snow and Rachel were duly impressed by this prophecy of affluence, but Captain Zelotes still played the skeptic.
“A million at twenty-five cents a piece!” exclaimed Olive. “Why, Zelotes, that's--that's an awful sight of money.”
Mental arithmetic failing her, she set to work with a pencil and paper and after a strenuous struggle triumphantly announced that it came to two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
“My soul and body!” she cried. “Two hundred and fifty thousand DOLLARS! My SOUL, Zelotes! Suppose--only suppose Albert's book brought him in as much as that!”
Her husband shook his head. “I can't, Olive,” he said, without looking up from his newspaper. “My supposer wouldn't stand the strain.”
“But it might, Zelotes, it MIGHT. Suppose it did, what would you say then?”
The captain regarded her over the top of the Transcript. “I shouldn't say a word, Olive,” he answered, solemnly. “I should be down sick by the time it got up as far as a thousand, and anything past two thousand you could use to buy my tombstone with. . . . There, there, Mother,” he added, noticing the hurt look on her face, “don't feel bad. I'm only jokin'. One of these days Al's goin' to make a nice, comf'table livin' sellin' lumber and hardware right here in South Harniss. I can SEE that money in the offin'. All this million or two that's comin' from poetry and such is out of sight in the fog. It may be there but--humph! well, I KNOW where Z. Snow and Co. is located.”
Olive was not entirely placated. “I must say I think you're awful discouragin' to the poor boy, Zelotes,” she said. Her husband put down his paper.
“No, no, I ain't, Mother,” he replied, earnestly. “At least I don't mean to be. Way I look at it, this poetry-makin' and writin' yarns and that sort of stuff is just part of the youngster's--er--growin' up, as you might say. Give him time he'll grow out of it, same as I cal'late he will out of this girl business, this--er--Madel--humph--er--ahem. . . . Looks like a good day to-morrow, don't it.”
He pulled up suddenly, and with considerable confusion. He had kept the news of his grandson's infatuation and engagement even from his wife. No one in South Harniss knew of it, no one except the captain. Helen Kendall knew, but she was in Boston.