Chapter Six

Gus’s career as a waiter had collapsed after only twenty minutes on the job. After his ignominious ejection from the White Sands, Gus retired, discouraged, to the lighthouse to mull over the matter and try to get the coffee stains out of his precious new shirt. Felix spotted him trudging home and decided to drop in on him, determined to find out why Gus was home so early.

Back at the lighthouse, Felix heard the sad tale of Gus’s dismissal. He picked up the newspaper and started scanning the want ads. Pretending to smoke Gus’s unlit pipe, Felix felt much less perturbed than Gus about the firing.

“How’s your arithmetic? You could be a clerk at the Carmody bank,” Felix suggested, pointing to a, printed notice. Gus had to have some kind of job or he would starve before their very eyes.

“All right till I run out of fingers,” Gus grunted glumly. “Miss King will never let me hear the end of it, losing that job. And on the first day.”

Added to her dismay over the lost job would be her reaction when she saw what had happened to the fine new shirt Olivia had worked so hard to make him. Gus bent over a sudsy basin, trying with all his might to scrub out the coffee blotches, but he was only making the problem worse.

“She’ll understand it was an accident,” Felix suggested, in an effort to be reassuring. Then, in answer to a disgusted look from Gus, Felix had to shake his head. “No, I guess not.”

After several minutes of rustling the paper and chewing on the stem of Gus’s pipe, Felix got to his true mission.

“C’mon, Gus, you gotta tell me what’s going on. If you don’t, Felicity will pluck out my eyelashes one by one.”

Felix wasn’t going to confess that he, too, was consumed with curiosity about the scene he had witnessed the previous night. And it certainly wasn’t like Gus to lose a good job the first morning he tried it.

Mention of Felicity only made Gus think of all things right and proper. He noticed the pipe between Felix’s teeth.

“Put that away, Felix. Miss King says smoking at a tender age indicates vulgarity.”

Gus himself had been smoking since a very tender age and hadn’t had the advantage of a Hetty King to stop the habit before it was too late. He took another slap at the shirt, then dropped it back into the basin in defeat.

“I should have known you was sent to scout me out My lips are sealed tight as the Pyramids It’s a question of a lady’s honor and safety,” Gus declared, unconsciously thrusting out his chest.

Felix was too young comprehend the snares that beauty might lay in the path of a susceptible lad on the verge of manhood He only understood that some strange woman was making Gus clam up in front of his real friends

“Just because she’s pretty...”

“She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” Gus confessed in a rush, not even bothering with the consequences should Felix carry this remark back to Felicity. His eyes lost their focus. For one long, dreamy moment he looked as though he actually saw the enchanting Amanda seated on a cloud before him. With difficulty, he shook himself back to reality, and the shirt, with its ruinous brown blotches, awash in the bottom of the basin.

“Maybe there’s some miracle mixture at Lawson’s that’d clean out this stain,” he muttered, somewhat hopelessly.

Gus set out at once for the general store, plodding along with his old scarf flung around his neck and the damp shirt clutched in his hand. If he could get the stains out before Hefty found out about the lost job, he would have managed to rescue at least one of the favors she had done for him.

Gus’s mind was so distracted by his own concerns that he scarcely noticed when he entered the village. Nor did he expect anyone else to notice him, for Avonlea was a close-knit village with fixed ideas about who belonged where. As an outsider, not related to a single soul, and a penniless drifter working at the fish cannery, he was right down at the bottom of the social scale, and a number of people didn’t even bother to say hello to him.

The Potts family belonged in this category. So, if Gus wasn’t aware of people on the street suddenly swinging round to stare at him as he passed, he was certainly stopped short when Sally Potts dashed out of the Potts house and skipped to a halt in front of him.

“Gus!” Sally cried, as though greeting a long-lost relative. She was actually coatless in the cold in her hurry to catch him.

“Afternoon, Sally Potts,” Gus answered warily.

Sally’s mother was one of the worst gossips in Avonlea, and Sally could be nasty when she wanted. In school, Gus had smarted more than once from her jeering tongue, and he tried to figure out what sort of trick she was up to this time.

“We would most surely be honored by your presence at Sunday dmner, Mr. Pike,” Sally chirped, bobbing a fetching little curtsy as she spoke.

The idea of Gus being invited into the Potts house was about the same as his being asked to call on the mayor of Charlottetown.

“At your house? Me?”

Sally nodded vigorously, eyes wide and innocent. “Of course, Gus Mother has made a special occasion of it. We’re having stuffed goose.”

The stuffed goose story clinched it. Only on holidays did the frugal souls in Avonlea kill and cook a goose. And when they did, they didn’t tease poor working lads with hints of getting a taste of it.

Gus squared his jaw. “I’m not in no mood for jokes, Sally Potts.” And he hurried off, leaving Sally shivering in the breeze behind him.

Vainly, she waved her arms. “But, Gus ... it’s with all the trimmings ...“

Now Gus began to realize that women were nodding and men tipping their hats as he walked along. Once he even peeked behind himself, thinking some important person was walking in his trail. And to top this wonder off, Mr. Methley came rushing up to him in the street.

“Master Pike! Master Pike! A moment of your time?”

Automatically, Gus braced for another tongue- lashing. “Don’t worry—I didn’t take no silverware with me.”

Methley, who had that very morning chucked Gus out of the White Sands, laughed as though the boy were the wit of the season.

“Nonsense, nonsense,” Mr. Methley boomed. “All a misunderstanding. I hope you won’t hold it against the hotel, Master Pike.”

“But you just fired me!” Gus insisted, wondering whether Mr. Methley had been into the hotel’s cooking sherry. Mr. Methley smiled as warmly as his commercial soul would allow.

“We’d like to extend to you a complimentary suite—at least until you’re able to find more suitable accommodations.”

Gus’s jaw almost fell off its hinges.

“What?”

“A person of your stature is exactly the sort the White Sands must cultivate,” the manager purred, as though Gus’s frayed jacket and cracked boots were just the thing to spruce up the hotel corridors. “A very good day to you, Master Pike.”

Tipping his hat, Mr. Methley marched off, leaving a very mixed-up Gus standing in the road.

Cautiously, Gus slipped into the general store Surely, people would act normally in there.

Mrs. Lawson immediately abandoned the customer she had been serving and rushed over, smiling. It seemed to make no difference that the customer she had abandoned was Mrs. Potts, the very woman Sally claimed was planning to cook a stuffed goose dinner for Gus.

“Gus, how nice to see you! Can we do something for you?”

The last thing Gus expected was special attention, especially when a number of women were standing there, waiting their turns. He had already stepped to the notice board to see whether there were any jobs advertised. Taken aback, he looked at the other customers, expecting annoyance. But instead, they were all nodding and beaming, as though it were perfectly natural Gus should be served first. Gus cleared his throat and held out the garment knotted in his hand.

“I was wondering if you had a shirt-cleaner that cleans stains of a stubborn sort, that don’t cost too much.”

Gus had to watch every penny, especially now that. he was out of work. Mrs. Lawson fluttered her fingers.

“Don’t concern yourself with cost. Your credit is good here.”

“It is?”

This was certainly news. Up until then, Gus had yet to meet anyone in Avonlea willing to extend five cents’ credit to him. Gus was more perplexed than ever!

Eventually, Gus emerged from the store with a small paper bag of stain-remover in his hand and wonderment stamped on his face. Since kind Mrs. Lawson was not at all the sort to get involved in unpleasant jokes, Gus could only assume that they had all taken leave of their senses. Until their sanity returned, he had the stain-remover to try and a credit account started in the store.

Shrugging, he stepped round to the back of the building, meaning to take a shortcut to the lighthouse. But no sooner had he passed from the street than he found himself seized by the neck and slammed up against the stack of barrels behind him. His assailant was the muscular and nefarious Rutherford.

“You are out of your league in conflict with your betters,” Rutherford snarled. “So tell me where the gems are or I’ll break your arm.”

Rutherford must have figured out that there was only one place the lady could have left her valuables—and that was at the lighthouse. After his initial gasp, Gus shut his mouth tight, ready to face the worst Rutherford could do rather than betray the trust of the fair Amanda. Rutherford, towering over Gus, jerked him higher against the barrels and started to twist his arm. A sudden growling made him turn. It was Digger to the rescue, appearing out of nowhere, pursuing his grudge against the man who had kicked him. Out in the. open, though, Digger’s idea of ferocity only seemed to amuse Rutherford.

“You’d need a lot sharper teeth than that to frighten me!” he told the dog, looking as if he might aim another kick.

Giving up on direct intimidation, Digger began to bark at the top of his lungs to summon help. Felix came running around the corner.

“Digger! Digger!”

At the sight of Rutherford and Gus, Felix screeched to a halt. A couple of other people, attracted by the commotion, craned their necks around the side of the store, forcing Rutherford to let go of his victim. As more people gathered, Rutherford decided it was time to beat a retreat. His eyes bored into Gus.

“She’ll play you for a fool just like every other man or boy in long pants who catches her fancy.”

With this parting shot, Rutherford strode away, the cape of his coat swirling angrily around his shoulders. As for Gus, he was far too relieved to think about what Rutherford had just said, or even wonder whether Rutherford himself might have been played for a fool. He only grabbed Digger and patted him gratefully for the rescue.