FullReads

“I’m damned,” said he; “Tinker!”

He waved both arms and called a joyous greeting. The cutter came to a halt on the bridge.

“Just the man I wanted to see,” said the Poor Boy. “I want advice and help. Yardsley says we’re letting a lot of timber go to waste. Now how about a sawmill–right here?“

Mr. Tinker was a joyous bachelor of forty-five. He had been cashier of a bank. A deficit arising, he had been wrongfully accused of direct responsibility, and from prison he had come straight to the Poor Boy’s settlement on special (most special) invitation. He had taken a room (and bath) in the village inn, and had made a little money out of contracts which the Poor Boy had thrown his way.

“What’s the flow here in summer?” asked Mr. Tinker doubtfully.

“About half what it is now,” said the Poor Boy.

“Hum–that would be width so and so–depth so and so…. What’s the fall?”

“Thirty feet.”

“Can’t use it all, can we?”

The Poor Boy shook his head.

“Well–I tell you, I’ll bring a tape-measure to-morrow and go into the thing thoroughly. By the way, you know Mrs. Caxton, who’s staying at the inn?”

“Yes–yes,” said the Poor Boy, “they accused her of shoplifting and it wasn’t she at all.”

“Damn them,” said Tinker.

“By all means,” said the Poor Boy.

“Well–well,” he thought, “people with too much imagination always do end by going mad. And now it’s happened to me.”

And it was just what did happen to him a moment later, only he was to go mad with a different kind of madness–a sane and wonderful madness.

He touched her and she did not vanish.

He made a sound that was half moan, half pity, and he lifted her in his strong arms. And then carrying her swiftly home, he proceeded, as I have forewarned the reader, to go quite mad. So did she, bless her, until there was no longer any pain in her ankle or in her heart.

“Well–well,” said old Martha; “what’s all this?”

She stood in the door of the house lighting them with a lamp.

“This,” said the Poor Boy in his ecstasy, “is a new and wonderful thing.”

He laughed aloud for joy.

“And the more you kiss her–the less she vanishes!”