The Grub-and-Stakers Quilt a Bee by Charlotte MacLeod

Author:Charlotte MacLeod [MacLeod, Charlotte]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-09-18T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

CHURTLE PUT ANOTHER STICK on the campfire and warmed to his thesis. “See, Perry had what you might call a fixation, or maybe a neurosis or even a phobia. I don’t think phobia would be too strong a term, though in most respects Perry was sound as a bell. The only other sign of mental aberration he ever showed was when he let himself get hooked and netted by Evangeline Sawn.”

“That’s the present Mrs. Fairfield,” Dittany explained to Osbert. “I don’t know if I happened to mention her first name’s Evangeline. You know, the one who bore to the reapers at noontide flagons of home-brewed ale.”

“L’enfer she did, if you’ll pardon my French,” said Churtle. “Evangeline never bore anybody anything except a grudge, only when she bore down on poor old Perry. Which she did, day and night, night and day from the minute he said ‘I do’ when he ought to of said ‘I don’t.’ The poor cuss couldn’t call his soul his own without her saying it wasn’t.”

“Yes,” said Dittany rather nastily because she’d just got bitten by a mosquito the size of a hummingbird, “she told me how she used to get at him about lending you any more money.”

“I figured she would,” said Churtle, quite unperturbed. “No skin off my nose. I was glad enough to do it for my old comrade. Yep, wasn’t much I wouldn’t of done for Perry Fairfield.”

“You considered it a favor to relieve him of all his spare cash?”

“Well, see, that’s not quite how it was. Look, would you folks care for a mug of tea?”

“Why not?” said Dittany, feeling she might have been a bit hasty on account of the mosquito. “I’ve got some cookies in the lunch basket.”

“I’ll get them,” said Osbert, heading for the canoe.

“Bring Ethel’s dog biscuit, too, eh?”

“I’ll go with you and fill the kettle, Deputy,” said Churtle, “if you two ladies don’t mind staying here alone.”

“Oh, we might as well join the party.” Dittany wasn’t about to let Frederick Churtle sneak up behind Osbert and conk him with a paddle unbeknownst, though she didn’t care to say so for fear of spoiling this new atmosphere of bonhomie, spurious though it might be.

However, it appeared Frederick Churtle had nothing more sinister on his mind than boiling up a soot-encrusted kettle, and the distance from the campfire to the canoe wasn’t more than twenty feet anyway. They completed their mission without incident, got the kettle balanced on an iron grid rigged across the stones, and resettled themselves.

Churtle resumed his tale, or at least started to. “No, that’s not how it was at all. Poor old Perry.”

He fell silent. Osbert waited a decent length of time for him to gaze into the campfire and heave a few nostalgic sighs, then said, “Were you intending to tell us how it really was?”

“Why not? It can’t hurt him now, poor cuss. See, I did it for Perry.”

“So you mentioned. We’re still trying to figure out why.”

“Why? I’ll tell you why.

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