It was that afternoon that Zaanan Frame drove his old horse Tiffany—named, as Jim found out, after the greatest of legal books, Tiffany’s _Justices’ Guide_—up to the mill and rheumatically climbed to the office.
“Afternoon,” said he. “Name’s Jim, hain’t it?”
Jim nodded curtly. He suspected the justice of being no friend of his, but an ally of the other camp.
“All right, Jim. Last names was made for fellers that git to be postmasters. Couldn’t sort the mail without ’em. Hain’t for every-day use no more ’n plug hats.”
“What can I do for you, Judge?” Jim asked, offishly.
The old fellow regarded him a moment in silence.
“Wa-al, you might put more sugar into your coffee. Need sweet’nin’ up. Still livin’ to the hotel, eh? All the comforts of home? Suits you to a tee?”
“The meals are all right,” said Jim, unbending a trifle, “but that’s all you can say.”
“Um! What’s home without a motto over the door? Hain’t met Mis’ Stickney? Course not. Widder woman twice repeated. Machinery runnin’? Um! Got her goin’ quicker ’n folks expected.”
“To be sure. Never seen sich a woman as the Widder Stickney for house-cleanin’. Best housekeeper in the county. Mill makes a heap of difference in Diversity. Kind of irritatin’ to Lafe Meggs up to the store. Says somebody’s always comin’ in and disturbin’ him to buy somethin’ or other. Calc’lates he’ll have to hire a clerk. Lafe’s ambitions mostly requires a sittin’ posture.”
“About a dozen people and five hundred folks. Take in the newspaper, Jim?”
“Um! Comes out Thursdays. Int’restin’ readin’ into it sometimes. The Widder Stickney got her second husband on the strength of her cookin’. Calc’late she could git a third with it, but she allows husbands is so fleetin’ and funeral expenses is so high ’twouldn’t hardly pay. Name of the paper is the _Diversity Eagle_. Business perty good, eh? Keepin’ up brisk?”
“To be sure. Loafin’s the leadin’ sport here. Calc’late Dolf Springer’s our champion jest now. Interestin’ piece in the paper this week. Several interestin’ pieces. Don’t take it in, eh? Early riser, hain’t you? See you walkin’ ’fore breakfast.”
Jim wondered if the old justice had any ulterior meaning in this observation. He had arisen early each morning and tramped out into the country. Sometimes he had been close to admitting to himself that this was not wholly for the air and exercise. Indeed, he had wondered if something much more material and human had not been at the root of the matter. There, for instance, was that young woman whom he had encountered on top of the knoll. She walked of mornings, too—and she was an interesting if not attractive individual. She puzzled him. He even went so far as to be vaguely anxious about her, for her state of mind had not appealed to him as one conducive to normal and conventional behavior. He wondered if Zaanan Frame knew of that encounter, or knew of that subsequent meeting—and passing—a week later when Miss Ducharme had come face to face with him at a turn of the road and had gone by with nothing to indicate she was aware of his existence except a scornful flash of her black eyes.