I'm just as high and mighty as he ever was, you can be
sure of that. 'Well, Raish,' I said to him to-night, 'I don't know that
I am very much interested. If the stock is worth that to you, I presume
likely it's worth it to me.' Ha, ha! Oh, dear! you should have seen him
squirm. He keeps tryin' to be buttery and sweet, but his real feelin's
come out sometimes. For instance, to-night his spite got a little too
much for him and he said: 'Humph!' he said, 'somebody must have willed
you money lately, Martha. Either that or keepin' boarders must pay
pretty well.' 'Yes,' said I, 'it does. The cost of livin is comin'
down all the time.' Oh, I'm havin' a beautiful game of tit-for-tat with
Raish."

She laughed merrily. Galusha did not laugh. The game was altogether too
risky for him to enjoy it. A person sitting on a powder barrel could
scarcely be expected to enjoy the sight of a group of children playing
with matches in close proximity. An explosion, sooner or later, might be
considered certain. But the children continued to play and day after
day went by, and no blow-up took place. Galusha sat upon his barrel
pondering apprehensively and--waiting. There were times when, facing
what seemed the inevitable, he found himself almost longing for the
promised summons from the Institute. An expedition to the wilds of--of
almost anywhere, provided it was remote enough--offered at least a means
of escape. But, to offset this, was the knowledge that escape by flight
involved giving up East Wellmouth and all it had come to mean to him.
Of course, he would be obliged to give it up some day and, in all
probability, soon--but--well, he simply could not bring himself to the
point of hastening the separation. So he shifted from the powder barrel
to the sharp horn of the other dilemma and shifted back again. Both
seats were most uncomfortable. The idea that there was an element of
absurdity in his self-imposed martyrdom and that, after all, what he
had done might be considered by the majority as commendable rather than
criminal, did not occur to him at all. He would not have been Galusha
Cabot Bangs if it had.

He meditated much and Primmie, always on the lookout for new symptoms,
noticed the meditations. When Primmie noticed a thing she never
hesitated to ask questions concerning it. She was dusting the sitting
room one morning and he was sitting by the window looking out.

"You're thinkin' again, ain't you, Mr. Bangs?" observed Primmie.