He disappeared into the kitchen, still muttering. Mrs. Snow smiled feebly at her grandson.
“I guess you think we're funny folks, Albert,” she said. “But Rachel is one hired help in a thousand and she has to be treated just so.”
Five minutes later Cap'n 'Lote returned. He shrugged his shoulders and sat down at his place.
“All right, Mother, all right,” he observed. “I've been heavin' ile on the troubled waters and the sea's smoothin' down. She'll be kind and condescendin' enough to eat with us in a minute or so.”
She was. She came into the dining-room with the air of a saint going to martyrdom and the remainder of the meal was eaten by the quartet almost in silence. When it was over the captain said:
“Humph! You don't seem very wild at the prospect. Walkin' ain't much in your line, maybe. More used to autoin', perhaps?”
Mrs. Snow put in a word. “Don't talk so, Zelotes,” she said. “He'll think you're makin' fun of him.”
“Who? Me? Not a bit of it. Well, Al, do you want to walk down to the lumber yard with me?”
The boy hesitated. The quiet note of sarcasm in his grandfather's voice was making him furiously angry once more, just as it had done on the previous night.
Albert, without another word, walked to the hat-rack in the hall and began putting on his coat. Captain Lote watched him for a moment and then put on his own.
“We'll be back to dinner, Mother,” he said. “Heave ahead, Al, if you're ready.”
There was little conversation between the pair during the half mile walk to the office and yards of “Z. Snow and Co., Lumber and Builders' Hardware.” Only once did the captain offer a remark. That was just as they came out by the big posts at the entrance to the driveway. Then he said:
“Al, I don't want you to get the idea from what happened at the table just now--that foolishness about Rachel Ellis--that your grandmother ain't a sensible woman. She is, and there's no better one on earth. Don't let that fact slip your mind.”
Albert, somewhat startled by the abruptness of the observation, looked up in surprise. He found the gray eyes looking down at him.
“I noticed you lookin' at her,” went on his grandfather, “as if you was kind of wonderin' whether to laugh at her or pity her. You needn't do either. She's kind-hearted and that makes her put up with Rachel's silliness. Then, besides, Rachel herself is common sense and practical nine-tenths of the time. It's always a good idea, son, to sail one v'yage along with a person before you decide whether to class 'em as A. B. or just roustabout.”