Do not feel equal to
the work. Decision final. Will write.--Galusha Bangs."
Martha's hand shook as it held the receiver to her ear. He had refused
the greatest honor of his life. He had declined to carry out the
wonderful "plan" concerning which he and she had so often speculated....
And she knew why he had refused.
"Erastus! Ras!" she called. "Hello, Ras! Hold that telegram. Don't send
it yet. Do you hear?"
Mr. Beebe's voice expressed his surprise. "Why, yes, Martha," he said,
"I hear. But I don't know. You see, Mr. Bangs, he sent a note along with
the telegram sayin' he wanted it rushed."
"Never mind. You hold it until you hear from me again--or from him. Yes,
I'll take all the responsibility. Erastus Beebe, don't you send that
telegram."
She hung up the receiver and hurried to the outer door. Galusha was
nowhere in sight. Then she remembered that Primmie had said he had gone
toward the lighthouse. She threw a knitted scarf over her shoulders,
seized an umbrella from the rack--for the walk showed broad splashes
where drops of rain had fallen--and started in search of him. She had
no definite plan. She was acting as entirely upon impulse as Cabot
had acted in seeking their recent interview; but of one thing she was
determined--he should not wreck his career if she, in any way, could
prevent it.
She reached the gate of the government property, but she did not open
it.
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