CAPE COD STORIES

Also Published Under The Title Of "The Old Home House"

By Joseph C. Lincoln

CONTENTS

TWO PAIRS OF SHOES

THE COUNT AND THE MANAGER

THE SOUTH SHORE WEATHER BUREAU

THE DOG STAR

THE MARE AND THE MOTOR

THE MARK ON THE DOOR

THE LOVE OF LOBELIA 'ANKINS

THE MEANNESS OF ROSY

THE ANTIQUERS

HIS NATIVE HEATH

"JONESY"

THE "OLD HOME HOUSE"

TWO PAIRS OF SHOES

I don't exactly know why Cap'n Jonadab and me went to the post-officethat night; we wa'n't expecting any mail, that's sartin. I guess likelywe done it for the reason the feller that tumbled overboard went to thebottom--'twas the handiest place TO go. 

Anyway we was there, and I was propping up the stove with my feet andholding down a chair with the rest of me, when Jonadab heaves alongsideflying distress signals. He had an envelope in his starboard mitten, and, coming to anchor with a flop in the next chair, sets shifting thething from one hand to the other as if it 'twas red hot. 

I watched this performance for a spell, waiting for him to saysomething, but he didn't, so I hailed, kind of sarcastic, and says:"What you doing--playing solitaire? Which hand's ahead?"

He kind of woke up then, and passes the envelope over to me. 

"Barzilla, " he says, "what in time do you s'pose that is?"

'Twas a queer looking envelope, more'n the average length fore and aft, but kind of scant in the beam. There was a puddle of red sealing wax onthe back of it with a "D" in the middle, and up in one corner was a kindof picture thing in colors, with some printing in a foreign languageunderneath it. I b'lieve 'twas what they call a "coat-of-arms, " but itlooked more like a patchwork comforter than it did like any coat ever_I_ see. The envelope was addressed to "Captain Jonadab Wixon, Orham, Mass. "

I took my turn at twisting the thing around, and then I hands it back toJonadab. 

"I pass, " I says. "Where'd you get it?"

"'Twas in my box, " says he. "Must have come in to-night's mail. "

I didn't know the mail was sorted, but when he says that I got up andwent over and unlocked my box, just to show that I hadn't forgot how, and I swan to man if there wa'n't another envelope, just like Jonadab's, except that 'twas addressed to "Barzilla Wingate. "

"Humph!" says I, coming back to the stove; "you ain't the only onethat's heard from the Prince of Wales. Look here!"

He was the most surprised man, but one, on the Cape: I was the one. Wecouldn't make head nor tail of the business, and set there comparing theenvelopes, and wondering who on earth had sent 'em. Pretty soon "Ily"Tucker heads over towards our moorings, and says he:

"What's troubling the ancient mariners?" he says. 

"Barzilla and me's got a couple of letters, " says Cap'n Jonadab; "and wewas wondering who they was from. "

Tucker leaned away down--he's always suffering from a rush of funninessto the face--and he whispers, awful solemn: "For heaven's sake, whateveryou do, don't open 'em. You might find out. " Then he threw off hismain-hatch and "haw-hawed" like a loon. 

To tell you the truth, we hadn't thought of opening 'em--not yet--sothat was kind of one on us, as you might say. But Jonadab ain't so slowbut he can catch up with a hearse if the horses stop to drink, and hecomes back quick. 

"Ily, " he says, looking troubled, "you ought to sew reef-points on yourmouth. 'Tain't safe to open the whole of it on a windy night like this. First thing you know you'll carry away the top of your head. "

Well, we felt consider'ble better after that--having held our own onthe tack, so to speak--and we walked out of the post-office and up to myroom in the Travellers' Rest, where we could be alone. Then we opened upthe envelopes, both at the same time. Inside of each of 'em was anotherenvelope, slick and smooth as a mack'rel's back, and inside of THAT wasa letter, printed, but looking like the kind of writing that used tobe in the copybook at school. It said that Ebenezer Dillaway begged thehonor of our presence at the marriage of his daughter, Belle, to PeterTheodosius Brown, at Dillamead House, Cashmere-on-the-Hudson, Februarythree, nineteen hundred and so forth. 

We were surprised, of course, and pleased in one way, but in another wewa'n't real tickled to death. You see, 'twas a good while sence Jonadaband me had been to a wedding, and we know there'd be mostly young folksthere and a good many big-bugs, we presumed likely, and 'twas going tocost consider'ble to get rigged--not to mention the price of passage, and one thing a' 'nother. But Ebenezer had took the trouble to writeus, and so we felt 'twas our duty not to disappoint him, and especiallyPeter, who had done so much for us, managing the Old Home House. 

The Old Home House was our summer hotel at Wellmouth Port. How me andJonadab come to be in the summer boarding trade is another story andit's too long to tell now. We never would have been in it, anyway, Ical'late, if it hadn't been for Peter. He made a howling success of ourfirst season and likewise helped himself along by getting engaged to thestar boarder, rich old Dillaway's daughter--Ebenezer Dillaway, of theConsolidated Cash Stores. 

Well, we see 'twas our duty to go, so we went. I had a new Sundaycutaway and light pants to go with it, so I figgered that I was prettywell found, but Cap'n Jonadab had to pry himself loose from considerablemoney, and every cent hurt as if 'twas nailed on. Then he had chilblainsthat winter, and all the way over in the Fall River boat he was fumingabout them chilblains, and adding up on a piece of paper how much cashhe'd spent. 

We struck Cashmere-on-the-Hudson about three o'clock on the afternoon ofthe day of the wedding. 'Twas a little country kind of a town, smallerby a good deal than Orham, and so we cal'lated that perhaps after all, the affair wouldn't be so everlasting tony. But when we hove in sight ofDillamead--Ebenezer's place--we shortened sail and pretty nigh drewout of the race. 'Twas up on a high bank over the river, and thehouse itself was bigger than four Old Homes spliced together. It had afair-sized township around it in the shape of land, with a highstone wall for trimming on the edges. There was trees, and places forflower-beds in summer, and the land knows what. We see right offthat this was the real Cashmere-on-the-Hudson; the village folks werestranded on the flats--old Dillaway filled the whole ship channel. 

"Well, " I says to Jonadab, "it looks to me as if we was getting out ofsoundings. What do you say to coming about and making a quick run forOrham again?"

But he wouldn't hear of it. "S'pose I've spent all that money on dudsfor nothing?" he says. "No, sir, by thunder! I ain't scared of PeterBrown, nor her that's going to be his wife; and I ain't scared ofEbenezer neither; no matter if he does live in the Manufacturers'Building, with two or three thousand fathom of front fence, " he says. 

Some years ago Jonadab got reckless and went on a cut-rate excursion tothe World's Fair out in Chicago, and ever sence then he's been comparingthings with the "Manufacturers' Building" or the "Palace of Agriculture"or "Streets of Cairo, " or some other outlandish place. 

"All right, " says I. "Darn the torpedoes! Keep her as she is! You canfire when ready, Gridley!"

So we sot sail for what we jedged was Ebenezer's front-gate, and justas we made it, a man comes whistling round the bend in the path, andI'm blessed if 'twa'n't Peter T. Brown. He was rigged to kill, as usual, only more so. 

"Hello, Peter!" I says. "Here we be. "

If ever a feller was surprised, Brown was that feller. He looked likehe'd struck a rock where there was deep water on the chart. 

"Well, I'll be ----" he begun, and then stopped. "What in the ----" hecommenced again, and again his breath died out. Fin'lly he says: "Isthis you, or had I better quit and try another pipe?"

We told him 'twas us, and it seemed to me that he wa'n't nigh so tickledas he'd ought to have been. When he found we'd come to the wedding, 'count of Ebenezer sending us word, he didn't say nothing for a minuteor so. 

"Of course, we HAD to come, " says Jonadab. "We felt 'twouldn't be rightto disapp'int Mr. Dillaway. "

Peter kind of twisted his mouth. "That's so, " he says. "It'll be worthmore'n a box of diamonds to him. Do him more good than joining a 'don'tworry club. ' Well, come on up to the house and ease his mind. "

So we done it, and Ebenezer acted even more surprised than Peter. 

I can't tell you anything about that house, nor the fixings in it;it beat me a mile--that house did. We had a room somewheres up onthe hurricane deck, with brass bunks and plush carpets and crochetedcurtains and electric lights. I swan there was looking glasses in everycorner--big ones, man's size. I remember Cap'n Jonadab hollering to methat night when he was getting ready to turn in:

"For the land's sake, Barzilla!" says he, "turn out them lights, willyou? I ain't over'n' above bashful, but them looking glasses make mefeel's if I was undressing along with all hands and the cook. "

The house was full of comp'ny, and more kept coming all the time. Swells! don't talk! We felt 'bout as much at home as a cow in a dory, but we was there 'cause Ebenezer had asked us to be there, so we kept onthe course and didn't signal for help. Travelling through the rooms downstairs where the folks was, was a good deal like dodging icebergs up onthe Banks, but one or two noticed us enough to dip the colors, and onewas real sociable. He was a kind of slow-spoken city-feller, dressed asif his clothes was poured over him hot and then left to cool. Hislast name had a splice in the middle of it--'twas Catesby-Stuart. Everybody--that is, most everybody--called him "Phil. "

Well, sir, Phil cottoned to Jonadab and me right away. He'd get us, oneon each wing, and go through that house asking questions. He pumped meand Jonadab dry about how we come to be there, and told us more yarnsthan a few 'bout Dillaway, and how rich he was. I remember he said thathe only wished he had the keys to the cellar so he could show us themoney-bins. Said Ebenezer was so just--well, rotten with money, as youmight say, that he kept it in bins down cellar, same as poor folkskept coal--gold in one bin, silver half-dollars in another, quarters inanother, and so on. When he needed any, he'd say to a servant: "James, fetch me up a hod of change. " This was only one of the fish yarns hetold. They sounded kind of scaly to Jonadab and me, but if we hinted atsuch a thing, he'd pull himself together and say: "Fact, I assure you, "in a way to freeze your vitals. He seemed like such a good feller thatwe didn't mind his telling a few big ones; we'd known good fellers aforethat liked to lie--gunners and such like, they were mostly. 

Somehow or 'nother Phil got Cap'n Jonadab talking "boat, " and whenJonadab talks "boat" there ain't no stopping him. He's the smartestfeller in a cat-boat that ever handled a tiller, and he's won more racesthan any man on the Cape, I cal'late. Phil asked him and me if we'd eversailed on an ice-boat, and, when we said we hadn't he asks if we won'ttake a sail with him on the river next morning. We didn't want toput him to so much trouble on our account, but he said: "Not at all. Pleasure'll be all mine, I assure you. " Well, 'twas his for a spell--butnever mind that now. 

He introduced us to quite a lot of the comp'ny--men mostly. He'd see aschool of 'em in a corner, or under a palm tree or somewheres, and steerus over in that direction and make us known to all hands. Then he beginto show us off, so to speak, get Jonadab telling 'bout the boats he'dsailed, or something like it--and them fellers would laugh and holler, but Phil's face wouldn't shake out a reef: he looked solemn as a fun'ralall the time. Jonadab and me begun to think we was making a great hit. Well, we was, but not the way we thought. I remember one of the ganggets Phil to one side after a talk like this and whispers to him, laughing like fun. Phil says to him: "My dear boy, I've been tothousands of these things"--waving his flipper scornful around thepremises--"and upon honor they've all been alike. Now that I'vediscovered something positively original, let me enjoy myself. Theentertainment by the Heavenly Twins is only begun. "

I didn't know what he meant then; I do now. 

The marrying was done about eight o'clock and done with all thetrimmings. All hands manned the yards in the best parlor, and Peter andBelle was hitched. Then they went away in a swell turnout--not like thederelict hacks we'd seen stranded by the Cashmere depot--and Jonadabpretty nigh took the driver's larboard ear off with a shoe Phil gave himto heave after 'em. 

After the wedding the folks was sitting under the palms and bushes thatwas growing in tubs all over the house, and the stewards--there wasenough of 'em to man a four-master--was carting 'round punch and frozenvictuals. Everybody was togged up till Jonadab and me, in our newcutaways, felt like a couple of moulting blackbirds at a blue-jaycamp-meeting. Ebenezer was so busy, flying 'round like a pullet withits head off, that he'd hardly spoke to us sence we landed, but Philscarcely ever left us, so we wa'n't lonesome. Pretty soon he comes backfrom a beat into the next room, and he says:

"There's a lady here that's just dying to know you gentlemen. Her name'sGranby. Tell her all about the Cape; she'll like it. And, by the way, my dear feller, " he whispers to Jonadab "if you want to pleaseher--er--mightily, congratulate her upon her boy's success in thelaundry business. You understand, " he says, winking; "only son andself-made man, don't you know. "

Mrs. Granby was roosting all by herself on a sofy in the parlor. She wasfleshy, but terrible stiff and proud, and when she moved the diamonds onher shook till her head and neck looked like one of them "set pieces" atthe Fourth of July fireworks. She was deef, too, and used an ear-trumpetpretty nigh as big as a steamer's ventilator. 

Maybe she was "dying to know us, " but she didn't have a fit trying toshow it. Me and Jonadab felt we'd ought to be sociable, and so we set, one on each side of her on the sofy, and bellered: "How d'ye do?" and"Fine day, ain't it?" into that ear-trumpet. She didn't say much, butshe'd couple on the trumpet and turn to whichever one of us had hailed, heeling over to that side as if her ballast had shifted. She acted to mekind of uneasy, but everybody that come into that parlor--and they keptpiling in all the time--looked more'n middling joyful. They kept prettyquiet, too, so that every yell we let out echoed, as you might say, all'round. I begun to git shaky at the knees, as if I was preaching to abig congregation. 

After a spell, Jonadab not being able to think of anything more to say, and remembering Phil's orders, leans over and whoops into the trumpet. 

"I'm real glad your son done so well with his laundry, " he says. 

Well, sir, Phil had give us to understand that them congratulationswould make a hit, and they done it. The women 'round the room turned redand some of 'em covered their mouths with their handkerchiefs. Themen looked glad and set up and took notice. Ebenezer wa'n't in theroom--which was a mercy--but your old mess-mate, Catesby-Stuart, lookedsolemn as ever and never turned a hair. 

But as for old lady Granby--whew! She got redder'n she was afore, which was a miracle, pretty nigh. She couldn't speak for a minute--justcackled like a hen. Then she busts out with: "How dare you!" andflounces out of that room like a hurricane. And it was still as couldbe for a minute, and then two or three of the girls begun to squeal andgiggle behind their handkerchiefs. 

Jonadab and me went away, too. We didn't flounce any to speak of. Iguess a "sneak" would come nearer to telling how we quit. I see thecap'n heading for the stairs and I fell into his wake. Nobody saidgood-night, and we didn't wait to give 'em a chance. 

'Course we knew we'd put our foot in it somewheres, but we didn't seejust how. Even then we wa'n't really onto Phil's game. You see, when agreen city chap comes to the Old Home House--and the land knows there'sfreaks enough do come--we always try to make things pleasant for him, and the last thing we'd think of was making him a show afore folks. So we couldn't b'lieve even now 'twas done a-purpose. But we wassuspicious, a little. 

"Barzilla, " says Jonadab, getting ready to turn in, "'tain't possiblethat that feller with the sprained last name is having fun with us, isit?"

"Jonadab, " says I, "I've been wondering that myself. "

And we wondered for an hour, and finally decided to wait a while andsay nothing till we could ask Ebenezer. And the next morning one of thestewards comes up to our room with some coffee and grub, and saysthat Mr. Catesby-Stuart requested the pleasure of our comp'ny on aafore-breakfast ice-boat sail, and would meet us at the pier in halfan hour. They didn't have breakfast at Ebenezer's till pretty close todinner time, eleven o'clock, so we had time enough for quite a trip. 

Phil and the ice-boat met us on time. I s'pose it 'twas style, but, if Ihadn't known I'd have swore he'd run short of duds and had dressed up inthe bed-clothes. I felt of his coat when he wa'n't noticing, and if itwa'n't made out of a blanket then I never slept under one. And itmade me think of my granddad to see what he had on his head--a reg'larnightcap, tassel and all. Phil said he was sorry we turned in so earlythe night afore. Said he'd planned to entertain us all the evening. Wedidn't hurrah much at this--being suspicious, as I said--and he changedthe subject to ice-boats. 

That ice-boat was a bird. I cal'lated to know a boat when I sighted one, but a flat-iron on skates was something bran-new. I didn't think much ofit, and I could see that Jonadab didn't neither. 

But in about three shakes of a lamb's tail I was ready to take it allback and say I never said it. I done enough praying in the next halfhour to square up for every Friday night meeting I'd missed sence I wasa boy. Phil got sail onto her, and we moved out kind of slow. 

"Now, then, " says he, "we'll take a little jaunt up the river. 'Coursethis isn't like one of your Cape Cod cats, but still--"

And then I dug my finger nails into the deck and commenced: "Now I layme. " Talk about going! 'Twas "F-s-s-s-t!" and we was a mile from home. "Bu-z-z-z!" and we was just getting ready to climb a bank; but 'fore shenosed the shore Phil would put the helm over and we'd whirl round likea windmill, with me and Jonadab biting the planking, and hanging on fordear life, and my heart, that had been up in my mouth knocking thesoles of my boots off. And Cap'n Catesby-Stuart would grin, anddrawl: "'Course, this ain't like a Orham cat-boat, but she does fairlywell--er--fairly. Now, for instance, how does this strike you?"

It struck us--I don't think any got away. I expected every minute toland in the hereafter, and it got so that the prospect looked kind ofinviting, if only to get somewheres where 'twas warm. That February windwent in at the top of my stiff hat and whizzed out through the legs ofmy thin Sunday pants till I felt for all the world like the ventilatingpipe on an ice-chest. I could see why Phil was wearing the bed-clothes;what I was suffering for just then was a feather mattress on each sideof me. 

Well, me and Jonadab was "it" for quite a spell. Phil had all the fun, and I guess he enjoyed it. If he'd stopped right then, when the fishingwas good, I cal'late he'd have fetched port with a full hold; but no, he had to rub it in, so to speak, and that's where he slopped over. Youknow how 'tis when you're eating mince-pie--it's the "one more slice"that fetches the nightmare. Phil stopped to get that slice. 

He kept whizzing up and down that river till Jonadab and me kind of gotover our variousness. We could manage to get along without spreading outlike porous plasters, and could set up for a minute or so on a stretch. And twa'n't necessary for us to hold a special religious service everytime the flat-iron come about. Altogether, we was in that conditionwhere the doctor might have held out some hopes. 

And, in spite of the cold, we was noticing how Phil was sailing thatthree-cornered sneak-box--noticing and criticising; at least, I was, andCap'n Jonadab, being, as I've said, the best skipper of small craftfrom Provincetown to Cohasset Narrows, must have had some ideas on thesubject. Your old chum, Catesby-Stuart, thought he was mast-highso fur's sailing was concerned, anybody could see that, but he hadsomething to larn. He wasn't beginning to get out all there was in thatice-boat. And just then along comes another feller in the same kind ofhooker and gives us a hail. There was two other chaps on the boat withhim. 

"Hello, Phil!" he yells, rounding his flat-iron into the wind abreast ofours and bobbing his night-cap. "I hoped you might be out. Are you gamefor a race?"

"Archie, " answers our skipper, solemn as a setting hen, "permit me tointroduce to you Cap'n Jonadab Wixon and Admiral Barzilla Wingate, ofOrham, on the Cape. "

I wasn't expecting to fly an admiral's pennant quite so quick, but Imanaged to shake out through my teeth--they was chattering like a boxof dice--that I was glad to know the feller. Jonadab, he rattled loosesomething similar. 

"The Cap'n and the Admiral, " says Phil, "having sailed the ragingmain for lo! these many years, are now favoring me with their adviceconcerning the navigation of ice-yachts. Archie, if you're willing toenter against such a handicap of brains and barnacles, I'll race you ona beat up to the point yonder, then on the ten mile run afore the windto the buoy opposite the Club, and back to the cove by Dillaway's. Andwe'll make it a case of wine. Is it a go?"

Archie, he laughed and said it was, and, all at once, the race was on. 

Now, Phil had lied when he said we was "favoring" him with advice, 'cause we hadn't said a word; but that beat up to the point wa'n't halfover afore Jonadab and me was dying to tell him a few things. He handledthat boat like a lobster. Archie gained on every tack and come about forthe run a full minute afore us. 

And on that run afore the wind 'twas worse than ever. The way Philsee-sawed that piece of pie back and forth over the river was a sin andshame. He could have slacked off his mainsail and headed dead for thebuoy, but no, he jiggled around like an old woman crossing the roadahead of a funeral. 

Cap'n Jonadab was on edge. Racing was where he lived, as you might say, and he fidgeted like he was setting on a pin-cushion. By and by he snapsout:

"Keep her off! Keep her off afore the wind! Can't you see where you'regoing?"

Phil looked at him as if he was a graven image, and all the answer hemade was; "Be calm, Barnacles, be calm!"

But pretty soon I couldn't stand it no longer, and I busts out with:"Keep her off, Mr. What's-your name! For the Lord's sake, keep her off!He'll beat the life out of you!"

And all the good that done was for me to get a stare that was colderthan the wind, if such a thing's possible. 

But Jonadab got fidgetyer every minute, and when we come out intothe broadest part of the river, within a little ways of the buoy, hecouldn't stand it no longer. 

"You're spilling half the wind!" he yells. "Pint' her for the buoy orelse you'll be licked to death! Jibe her so's she gits it full. Jibeher, you lubber! Don't you know how? Here! let me show you!"

And the next thing I knew he fetched a hop like a frog, shoved Phil outof the way, grabbed the tiller, and jammed it over. 

She jibed--oh, yes, she jibed! If anybody says she didn't you send 'emto me. I give you my word that that flat-iron jibed twice--once forpractice, I jedge, and then for business. She commenced by twisting andsquirming like an eel. I jest had sense enough to clamp my mittensonto the little brass rail by the stern and hold on; then she jibed thesecond time. She stood up on two legs, the boom come over with a slatthat pretty nigh took the mast with it, and the whole shebang whirledaround as if it had forgot something. I have a foggy kind of remembranceof locking my mitten clamps fast onto that rail while the rest of mestreamed out in the air like a burgee. Next thing I knew we was scootingback towards Dillaway's, with the sail catching every ounce that wasblowing. Jonadab was braced across the tiller, and there, behind us, wasthe Honorable Philip Catesby-Stuart, flat on his back, with his blanketlegs looking like a pair of compasses, and skimming in whirligigs overthe slick ice towards Albany. HE hadn't had nothing to hold onto, youunderstand. Well, if I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have b'lieved that ahuman being could spin so long or travel so fast on his back. His legsmade a kind of smoky circle in the air over him, and he'd got such astart I thought he'd NEVER STOP a-going. He come to a place where somesnow had melted in the sun and there was a pond, as you might say, on the ice, and he went through that, heaving spray like one of themcircular lawn sprinklers the summer folks have. He'd have been as prettyas a fountain, if we'd had time to stop and look at him. 

"For the land sakes, heave to!" I yelled, soon's I could get my breath. "You've spilled the skipper!"

"Skipper be durned!" howls Jonadab, squeezing the tiller and keeping onthe course; "We'll come back for him by and by. It's our business to winthis race. "

And, by ginger! we DID win it. The way Jonadab coaxed that cocked hat onrunners over the ice was pretty--yes, sir, pretty! He nipped her closeenough to the wind'ard, and he took advantage of every single chance. He always COULD sail; I'll say that for him. We walked up on Archie likehe'd set down to rest, and passed him afore he was within a half mile ofhome. We run up abreast of Dillaway's, putting on all the fancy frillsof a liner coming into port, and there was Ebenezer and a whole crowd ofwedding company down by the landing. 

"Gosh!" says Jonadab, tugging at his whiskers: "'Twas Cape Cod againstNew York that time, and you can't beat the Cape when it comes to gettingover water, not even if the water's froze. Hey, Barzilla?"

Ebenezer came hopping over the ice towards us. He looked some surprised. 

"Where's Phil?" he says. 

Now, I'd clean forgot Phil and I guess Jonadab had, by the way hecolored up. 

"Phil?" says he. "Phil? Oh, yes! We left him up the road a piece. Maybewe'd better go after him now. "

But old Dillaway had something to say. 

"Cap'n, " he says, looking round to make sure none of the comp'ny wasfollering him out to the ice-boat. "I've wanted to speak to you afore, but I haven't had the chance. You mustn't b'lieve too much of what Mr. Catesby-Stuart says, nor you mustn't always do just what he suggests. You see, " he says, "he's a dreadful practical joker. "

"Yes, " says Jonadab, beginning to look sick. I didn't say nothing, but Iguess I looked the same way. 

"Yes, " said Ebenezer, kind of uneasy like; "Now, in that matter of Mrs. Granby. I s'pose Phil put you up to asking her about her son's laundry. Yes? Well, I thought so. You see, the fact is, her boy is a broker downin Wall Street, and he's been caught making some of what they call 'washsales' of stock. It's against the rules of the Exchange to do that, andthe papers have been full of the row. You can see, " says Dillaway, "howthe laundry question kind of stirred the old lady up. But, Lord! it musthave been funny, " and he commenced to grin. 

I looked at Jonadab, and he looked at me. I thought of Marm Granby, andher being "dying to know us, " and I thought of the lies about the "hodof change" and all the rest, and I give you my word _I_ didn't grin, notenough to show my wisdom teeth, anyhow. A crack in the ice an inch widewould have held me, with room to spare; I know that. 

"Hum!" grunts Jonadab, kind of dry and bitter, as if he'd been takingwormwood tea; "_I_ see. He's been having a good time making durn foolsout of us. "

"Well, " says Ebenezer, "not exactly that, p'raps, but--"

And then along comes Archie and his crowd in the other ice-boat. 

"Hi!" he yells. "Who sailed that boat of yours? He knew his business allright. I never saw anything better. Phil--why, where IS Phil?"

I answered him. "Phil got out when we jibed, " I says. 

"Was THAT Phil?" he hollers, and then the three of 'em just roared. 

"Oh, by Jove, you know!" says Archie, "that's the funniest thing I eversaw. And on Phil, too! He'll never hear the last of it at the club--hey, boys?" And then they just bellered and laughed again. 

When they'd gone, Jonadab turned to Ebenezer and he says: "That takingus out on this boat was another case of having fun with the countrymen. Hey?"

"I guess so, " says Dillaway. "I b'lieve he told one of the guests thathe was going to put Cape Cod on ice this morning. "

I looked away up the river where a little black speck was just gettingto shore. And I thought of how chilly the wind was out there, and howthat ice-water must have felt, and what a long ways 'twas from home. And then I smiled, slow and wide; there was a barge load of joy in everyhalf inch of that smile. 

"It's a cold day when Phil loses a chance for a joke, " says Ebenezer. 

"'Tain't exactly what you'd call summery just now, " I says. And wehauled down sail, run the ice-boat up to the wharf, and went up to ourroom to pack our extension cases for the next train. 

"You see, " says Jonadab, putting in his other shirt, "it's easy enoughto get the best of Cape folks on wash sales and lying, but when it comesto boats that's a different pair of shoes. "

"I guess Phil'll agree with you, " I says. 

THE COUNT AND THE MANAGER

The way we got into the hotel business in the first place come aroundlike this: Me and Cap'n Jonadab went down to Wellmouth Port one day'long in March to look at some property he'd had left him. Jonadab'sAunt Sophrony had moved kind of sudden from that village to BeulahLand--they're a good ways apart, too--and Cap'n Jonadab had come in forthe old farm, he being the only near relative. 

When you go to Wellmouth Port you get off the cars at Wellmouth Centerand then take Labe Bearse's barge and ride four miles; and then, if thehorse don't take a notion to lay down in the road and go to sleep, or awheel don't come off or some other surprise party ain't sprung on you, you come to a place where there's a Baptist chapel that needs painting, and a little two-for-a-cent store that needs trade, and two or threehouses that need building over, and any Lord's quantity of scrub pinesand beach grass and sand. Then you take Labe's word for it that you'vegot to Wellmouth Port and get out of the barge and try to rememberyou're a church member. 

Well, Aunt Sophrony's house was a mile or more from the place where thebarge stopped, and Jonadab and me, we hoofed it up there. We bought somecheese and crackers and canned things at the store, 'cause we expectedto stay overnight in the house, and knew there wasn't no other way ofgetting provender. 

We got there after a spell and set down on the big piazza with our soulsfull of gratitude and our boots full of sand. Great, big, old-fashionedhouse with fourteen big bedrooms in it, big barn, sheds, and one thingor 'nother, and perched right on top of a hill with five or six acresof ground 'round it. And how the March wind did whoop in off the sea andhowl and screech lonesomeness through the pine trees! You take it inthe middle of the night, with the shutters rattling and the old joistsa-creaking and Jonadab snoring like a chap sawing hollow logs, and ifit wan't joy then my name ain't Barzilla Wingate. I don't wonder AuntSophrony died. I'd have died 'long afore she did if I knew I was checkedplumb through to perdition. There'd be some company where I was going, anyhow. 

The next morning after ballasting up with the truck we'd bought at thestore--the feller 'most keeled over when he found we was going to paycash for it--we went out on the piazza again, and looked at the breakersand the pine trees and the sand, and held our hats on with both hands. 

"Jonadab, " says I, "what'll you take for your heirloom?"

"Well, " he says, "Barzilla, the way I feel now, I think I'd take areturn ticket to Orham and be afraid of being took up for swindling atthat. "

Neither of us says nothing more for a spell, and, first thing you know, we heard a carriage rattling somewhere up the road. I was shipwreckedonce and spent two days in a boat looking for a sail. When I heard thatrattling I felt just the way I done when I sighted the ship that pickedus up. 

"Judas!" says Jonadab, "there's somebody COMING!"

We jumped out of our chairs and put for the corner of the house. ThereWAS somebody coming--a feller in a buggy, and he hitched his horse tothe front fence and come whistling up the walk. 

He was a tall chap, with a smooth face, kind of sharp and knowing, andwith a stiff hat set just a little on one side. His clothes was new andabout a week ahead of up-to-date, his shoes shined till they lit up thelower half of his legs, and his pants was creased so's you could mowwith 'em. Cool and slick! Say! in the middle of that deadliness andcompared to Jonadab and me, he looked like a bird of Paradise in a coopof moulting pullets. 

"Cap'n Wixon?" he says to me, sticking out a gloved flipper. 

"Not guilty, " says I. "There's the skipper. My name's Wingate. "

"Glad to have the pleasure, Mr. Wingate, " he says. "Cap'n Wixon, yourstruly. "

We shook hands, and he took each of us by the arm and piloted us backto the piazza, like a tug with a couple of coal barges. He pulled up achair, crossed his legs on the rail, reached into the for'ard hatch ofhis coat and brought out a cigar case. 

"Smoke up, " he says. We done it--I holding my hat to shut off the wind, while Jonadab used up two cards of matches getting the first light. Whenwe got the cigars to going finally, the feller says:

"My name's Brown--Peter T. Brown. I read about your falling heir to thisestate, Cap'n Wixon, in a New Bedford paper. I happened to be in NewBedford then, representing the John B. Wilkins Unparalleled All StarUncle Tom's Cabin and Ten Nights in a Bar-room Company. It isn't myreg'lar line, the show bus'ness, but it produced the necessary 'ham and'every day and the excelsior sleep inviter every night, so--but nevermind that. Soon as I read the paper I came right down to look at theproperty. Having rubbered, back I go to Orham to see you. Your handsomeand talented daughter says you are over here. That'll be about all--hereI am. Now, then, listen to this. "

He went under his hatches again, rousted out a sheet of paper, unfoldedit and read something like this--I know it by heart:

"The great sea leaps and splashes before you as it leaped and splashedin the old boyhood days. The sea wind sings to you as it sang of old. The old dreams come back to you, the dreams you dreamed as you slumberedupon the cornhusk mattress in the clean, sweet little chamber of the oldhome. Forgotten are the cares of business, the scramble for money, theruthless hunt for fame. Here are perfect rest and perfect peace. 

"Now what place would you say I was describing?" says the feller. 

"Heaven, " says Jonadab, looking up, reverent like. 

You never see a body more disgusted than Brown. 

"Get out!" he snaps. "Do I look like the advance agent of Glory? Listento this one. "

He unfurls another sheet of paper, and goes off on a tack about likethis:

"The old home! You who sit in your luxurious apartments, attendedby your liveried servants, eating the costly dishes that bring youdyspepsia and kindred evils, what would you give to go back once moreto the simple, cleanly living of the old house in the country? The oldhome, where the nights were cool and refreshing, the sleep deep andsound; where the huckleberry pies that mother fashioned were swimming infragrant juice, where the shells of the clams for the chowder were snowwhite and the chowder itself a triumph; where there were no voices butthose of the wind and sea; no--"

"Don't!" busts out Jonadab. "Don't! I can't stand it!"

He was mopping his eyes with his red bandanner. I was consider'ble shookup myself. The dear land knows we was more used to huckleberry pies andclam chowder than we was to liveried servants and costly dishes, butthere was something in the way that feller read off that slush that justworked the pump handle. A hog would have cried; I know _I_ couldn't helpit. As for Peter T. Brown, he fairly crowed. 

"It gets you!" he says. "I knew it would. And it'll get a heap ofothers, too. Well, we can't send 'em back to the old home, but we cantrot the old home to them, or a mighty good imitation of it. Here it is;right here!"

And he waves his hand up toward Aunt Sophrony's cast-off palace. 

Cap'n Jonadab set up straight and sputtered like a firecracker. A manhates to be fooled. 

"Old home!" he snorts. "Old county jail, you mean!"

And then that Brown feller took his feet down off the rail, hitched hischair right in front of Jonadab and me and commenced to talk. And HOWhe did talk! Say, he could talk a Hyannis fisherman into a missionary. I wish I could remember all he said; 'twould make a book as big as adictionary, but 'twould be worth the trouble of writing it down. 'Forehe got through he talked a thousand dollars out of Cap'n Jonadab, and ittakes a pretty hefty lecture to squeeze a quarter out of HIM. To make along yarn short, this was his plan:

He proposed to turn Aunt Sophrony's wind plantation into a hotel forsummer boarders. And it wan't going to be any worn-out, regulation kindof a summer hotel neither. 

"Confound it, man!" he says, "they're sick of hot and cold water, elevators, bell wires with a nigger on the end, and all that. There's araft of old codgers that call themselves 'self-made men'--meanin'that the Creator won't own 'em, and they take the responsibilitythemselves--that are always wishing they could go somewheres like theshacks where they lived when they were kids. They're always talkingabout it, and wishing they could go to the old home and rest. Rest! Why, say, there's as much rest to this place as there is sand, and there'senough of that to scour all the knives in creation. "

"But 'twill cost so like the dickens to furnish it, " I says. 

"Furnish it!" says he. "Why, that's just it! It won't cost nothing tofurnish it--nothing to speak of. I went through the house day beforeyesterday--crawled in the kitchen window--oh! it's all right, you cancount the spoons--and there's eight of those bedrooms furnished justright, corded bedsteads, painted bureaus with glass knobs, 'God BlessOur Home' and Uncle Jeremiah's coffin plate on the wall, rag mats onthe floor, and all the rest. All she needs is a little more of the samestuff, that I can buy 'round here for next to nothing--I used to buy foran auction room--and a little paint and fixings, and there she is. AllI want from you folks is a little money--I'll chuck in two hundred andfifty myself--and you two can be proprietors and treasurers if you wantto. But active manager and publicity man--that's yours cheerily, PeterTheodosius Brown!" And he slapped his plaid vest. 

Well, he talked all the forenoon and all the way to Orham on the trainand most of that night. And when he heaved anchor, Jonadab had agreedto put up a thousand and I was in for five hundred and Peter contributedtwo hundred and fifty and experience and nerve. And the "Old Home House"was off the ways. 

And by the first of May 'twas open and ready for business, too. Younever see such a driver as that feller Brown was. He had a new widepiazza built all 'round the main buildings, painted everything up fine, hired the three best women cooks in Wellmouth--and there's some goodcooks on Cape Cod, too--and a half dozen chamber girls and waiters. He had some trouble getting corded beds and old bureaus for the emptyrooms, but he got 'em finally. He bought the last bed of Beriah Burgess, up at East Harniss, and had quite a dicker getting it. 

"He thought he ought to get five dollars for it, " says Brown, tellingJonadab and me about it. "Said he hated to part with it because hisgrandmother died in it. I told him I couldn't see any good reason why Ishould pay more for a bed just because it had killed his grandmother, so we split up and called it three dollars. 'Twas too much money, but wehad to have it. "

And the advertisements! They was sent everywheres. Lots of 'em was whatPeter called "reading notices, " and them he mostly got for nothing, forhe could talk an editor foolish same as he could anybody else. By themiddle of April most of our money was gone, but every room in the housewas let and we had applications coming by the pailful. 

And the folks that come had money, too--they had to have to pay Brown'srates. I always felt like a robber or a Standard Oil director every timeI looked at the books. The most of 'em was rich folks--self-made men, just like Peter prophesied--and they brought their wives and daughtersand slept on cornhusks and eat chowder and said 'twas great and justlike old times. And they got the rest we advertised; we didn't cheat'em on REST. By ten o'clock pretty nigh all hands was abed, and 'twas sostill all you could hear was the breakers or the wind, or p'raps a groancoming from a window where some boarder had turned over in his sleep anda corncob in the mattress had raked him crossways. 

There was one old chap that we'll call Dillaway--Ebenezer Dillaway. That wan't his name; his real one's too well known to tell. He runs the"Dillaway Combination Stores" that are all over the country. In themstores you can buy anything and buy it cheap--cheapness is Ebenezer'sstronghold and job lots is his sheet anchor. He'll sell you a mowingmachine and the grass seed to grow the hay to cut with it. He'll sellyou a suit of clothes for two dollars and a quarter, and for ten centsmore he'll sell you glue enough to stick it together again after you'veworn it out in the rain. He'll sell you anything, and he's got cashenough to sink a ship. 

He come to the "Old Home House" with his daughter, and he took to theplace right away. Said 'twas for all the world like where he used tolive when he was a boy. He liked the grub and he liked the cornhusksand he liked Brown. Brown had a way of stealing a thing and yet payingenough for it to square the law--that hit Ebenezer where he lived. 

His daughter liked Brown, too, and 'twas easy enough to see thatBrown liked her. She was a mighty pretty girl, the kind Peter called a"queen, " and the active manager took to her like a cat to a fish. They was together more'n half the time, gitting up sailing parties, orplaying croquet, or setting up on the "Lover's Nest, " which was akind of slab summer-house Brown had rigged up on the bluff where AuntSophrony's pig-pens used to be in the old days. 

Me and Jonadab see how things was going, and we'd look at one anotherand wink and shake our heads when the pair'd go by together. But allthat was afore the count come aboard. 

We got our first letter from the count about the third of June. Thewriting was all over the plate like a biled dinner, and the Englishlooked like it had been shook up in a bag, but it was signed with a ninefathom, toggle-jinted name that would give a pollparrot the lockjaw, andhad the word "Count" on the bow of it. 

You never see a feller happier than Peter T. Brown. 

"Can he have rooms?" says Peter. "CAN he? Well, I should rise toelocute! He can have the best there is if yours truly has to bunk in thecoop with the gladsome Plymouth Rock. That's what! He says he's a countand he'll be advertised as a count from this place to where rolls theOregon. "

And he was, too. The papers was full of how Count What's-his-Name washanging out at the "Old Home House, " and we got more letters from richold women and pork-pickling money bags than you could shake a stick at. If you want to catch the free and equal nabob of a glorious republic, bait up with a little nobility and you'll have your salt wet in no time. We had to rig up rooms in the carriage house, and me and Jonadab sleptin the haymow. 

The count himself hove in sight on June fifteenth. He was a little, smoked Italian man with a pair of legs that would have been carried awayin a gale, and a black mustache with waxed ends that you'd think wouldpunch holes in the pillow case. His talk was like his writing, onlyworse, but from the time his big trunk with the foreign labels wascarried upstairs, he was skipper and all hands of the "Old Home House. "

And the funny part of it was that old man Dillaway was as much gone onhim as the rest. For a self-made American article he was the worst goneon this machine-made importation that ever you see. I s'pose when you'vegot more money than you can spend for straight goods you nat'rally go infor buying curiosities; I can't see no other reason. 

Anyway, from the minute the count come over the side it was "Good-by, Peter. " The foreigner was first oar with the old man and general consortfor the daughter. Whenever there was a sailing trip on or a spell ofroosting in the Lover's Nest, Ebenezer would see that the count lookedout for the "queen, " while Brown stayed on the piazza and talkedbargains with papa. It worried Peter--you could see that. He'd set inthe barn with Jonadab and me, thinking, thinking, and all at once he'dbust out:

"Bless that Dago's heart! I haven't chummed in with the degeneratearistocracy much in my time, but somewhere or other I've seen that chapbefore. Now where--where--where?"

For the first two weeks the count paid his board like a major; thenhe let it slide. Jonadab and me was a little worried, but he wasadvertising us like fun, his photographs--snap shots by Peter--wasgetting into the papers, so we judged he was a good investment. ButPeter got bluer and bluer. 

One night we was in the setting room--me and Jonadab and the count andEbenezer. The "queen" and the rest of the boarders was abed. 

The count was spinning a pigeon English yarn of how he'd fought a duelwith rapiers. When he'd finished, old Dillaway pounded his knee and sungout:

"That's bus'ness! That's the way to fix 'em! No lawsuits, no argument, no delays. Just take 'em out and punch holes in 'em. Did you hear that, Brown?"

"Yes, I heard it, " says Peter, kind of absent-minded like. "Fightingwith razors, wan't it?"

Now there wan't nothing to that--'twas just some of Brown's sarcasticspite getting the best of him--but I give you my word that the countturned yellow under his brown skin, kind of like mud rising from thebottom of a pond. 

"What-a you say?" he says, bending for'ards. 

"Mr. Brown was mistaken, that's all, " says Dillaway; "he meant rapiers. "

"But why-a razors--why-a razors?" says the count. 

Now I was watching Brown's face, and all at once I see it light uplike you'd turned a searchlight on it. He settled back in his chair andfetched a long breath as if he was satisfied. Then he grinned and beggedpardon and talked a blue streak for the rest of the evening. 

Next day he was the happiest thing in sight, and when Miss Dillaway andthe count went Lover's Nesting he didn't seem to care a bit. All ofa sudden he told Jonadab and me that he was going up to Boston thatevening on bus'ness and wouldn't be back for a day or so. He wouldn'ttell what the bus'ness was, either, but just whistled and laughed andsung, "Good-by, Susannah; don't you grieve for me, " till train time. 

He was back again three nights afterward, and he come right out to thebarn without going nigh the house. He had another feller with him, akind of shabby dressed Italian man with curly hair. 

"Fellers, " he says to me and Jonadab, "this is my friend, Mr. Macaroni;he's going to engineer the barber shop for a while. "

Well, we'd just let our other barber go, so we didn't think anything ofthis, but when he said that his friend Spaghetti was going to stay inthe barn for a day or so, and that we needn't mention that he was there, we thought that was funny. 

But Peter done a lot of funny things the next day. One of 'em was to seta feller painting a side of the house by the count's window, that didn'tneed painting at all. And when the feller quit for the night, Brown toldhim to leave the ladder where 'twas. 

That evening the same crowd was together in the setting room. Peter wasas lively as a cricket, talking, talking, all the time. By and by hesays:

"Oh, say, I want you to see the new barber. He can shave anything froma note to a porkypine. Come in here, Chianti!" he says, opening the doorand calling out. "I want you. "

And in come the new Italian man, smiling and bowing and looking "meekand lowly, sick and sore, " as the song says. 

Well, we laughed at Brown's talk and asked the Italian all kinds of foolquestions and nobody noticed that the count wan't saying nothing. Prettysoon he gets up and says he guesses he'll go to his room, 'cause hefeels sort of sick. 

And I tell you he looked sick. He was yellower than he was the othernight, and he walked like he hadn't got his sea legs on. Old Dillawaywas terrible sorry and kept asking if there wan't something he could do, but the count put him off and went out. 

"Now that's too bad!" says Brown. "Spaghetti, you needn't wait anylonger. "

So the other Italian went out, too. 

And then Peter T. Brown turned loose and talked the way he done whenme and Jonadab first met him. He just spread himself. He told of thisbargain that he'd made and that sharp trade he had turned, while we setthere and listened and laughed like a parsel of fools. And every timethat Ebenezer'd get up to go to bed, Peter'd trot out a new yarn andhe'd have to stop to listen to that. And it got to be eleven o'clock andthen twelve and then one. 

It was just about quarter past one and we was laughing our heads off atone of Brown's jokes, when out under the back window there was a jingleand a thump and a kind of groaning and wiggling noise. 

"What on earth is that?" says Dillaway. 

"I shouldn't be surprised, " says Peter, cool as a mack'rel on ice, "ifthat was his royal highness, the count. "

He took up the lamp and we all hurried outdoors and 'round the corner. And there, sure enough, was the count, sprawling on the ground with hisleather satchel alongside of him, and his foot fast in a big steel trapthat was hitched by a chain to the lower round of the ladder. He raredup on his hands when he see us and started to say something about anoutrage. 

"Oh, that's all right, your majesty, " says Brown. "Hi, Chianti, comehere a minute! Here's your old college chum, the count, been and put hisfoot in it. "

When the new barber showed up the count never made another move, justwilted like a morning-glory after sunrise. But you never see a worseupset man than Ebenezer Dillaway. 

"But what does this mean?" says he, kind of wild like. "Why don't youtake that thing off his foot?"

"Oh, " says Peter, "he's been elongating my pedal extremity for the lastmonth or so; I don't see why I should kick if he pulls his own for awhile. You see, " he says, "it's this way:

"Ever since his grace condescended to lend the glory of his countenanceto this humble roof, " he says, "it's stuck in my mind that I'd seen thesaid countenance somewhere before. The other night when our conversationwas trifling with the razor subject and the Grand Lama here"--that's thename he called the count--"was throwing in details about his carving hisfriends, it flashed across me where I'd seen it. About a couple of yearsago I was selling the guileless rural druggists contiguous to Scranton, Pennsylvania, the tasty and happy combination called 'Dr. Bulger'sElectric Liver Cure, ' the same being a sort of electric light for shadylivers, so to speak. I made my headquarters at Scranton, and, whilethere, my hair was shortened and my chin smoothed in a neat but gaudybarber shop, presided over by my friend Spaghetti here, and my equallyvalued friend the count. "

"So, " says Peter, smiling and cool as ever, "when it all came backto me, as the song says, I journeyed to Scranton accompanied by aphotograph of his lordship. I was lucky enough to find Macaroni in thesame old shop. He knew the count's classic profile at once. It seems hismajesty had hit up the lottery a short time previous for a few hundredand had given up barbering. I suppose he'd read in the papers that theimitation count line was stylish and profitable and so he tried it on. It may be, " says Brown, offhand, "that he thought he might marry somerich girl. There's some fool fathers, judging by the papers, that arewilling to sell their daughters for the proper kind of tag on a packagelike him. "

Old man Dillaway kind of made a face, as if he'd ate something thattasted bad, but he didn't speak. 

"And so, " says Peter, "Spaghetti and I came to the Old Home together, he to shave for twelve per, and I to set traps, etcetera. That's a goodtrap, " he says, nodding, "I bought it in Boston. I had the teeth fileddown, but the man that sold it said 'twould hold a horse. I left theladder by his grace's window, thinking he might find it handy after he'dseen his friend of other days, particularly as the back door was locked. 

"And now, " goes on Brown, short and sharp, "let's talk business. Count, "he says, "you are set back on the books about sixty odd for old homecomforts. We'll cut off half of that and charge it to advertising. Youdraw well, as the man said about the pipe. But the other thirty you'llhave to work out. You used to shave like a bird. I'll give you twelvedollars a week to chip in with Macaroni here and barber the boarders. "

But Dillaway looked anxious. 

"Look here, Brown, " he says, "I wouldn't do that. I'll pay his boardbill and his traveling expenses if he clears out this minute. It seemstough to set him shaving after he's been such a big gun around here. "

I could see right off that the arrangement suited Brown first rate andwas exactly what he'd been working for, but he pretended not to caremuch for it. 

"Oh! I don't know, " he says. "I'd rather be a sterling barber than aplated count. But anything to oblige you, Mr. Dillaway. "

So the next day there was a nobleman missing at the "Old Home House, "and all we had to remember him by was a trunk full of bricks. And PeterT. Brown and the "queen" was roosting in the Lover's Nest; and the newItalian was busy in the barber shop. He could shave, too. He shaved mewithout a pull, and my face ain't no plush sofy, neither. 

And before the season was over the engagement was announced. OldDillaway took it pretty well, considering. He liked Peter, and hishaving no money to speak of didn't count, because Ebenezer had enoughfor all hands. The old man said he'd been hoping for a son-in-lawsharp enough to run the "Consolidated Stores" after he was gone, and itlooked, he said, as if he'd found him. 

THE SOUTH SHORE WEATHER BUREAU

"But, " says Cap'n Jonadab and me together, jest as if we was "reading inconcert" same as the youngsters do in school, "but, " we says, "will itwork? Will anybody pay for it?"

"Work?" says Peter T. , with his fingers in the arm-holes of thedouble-breasted danger-signal that he called a vest, and with his cigartilted up till you'd think 'twould set his hat-brim afire. "Work?" sayshe. "Well, maybe 'twouldn't work if the ordinary brand of cannedlobster was running it, but with ME to jerk the lever and sound the loudtimbrel--why, say! it's like stealing money from a blind cripple that'shard of hearing. "

"Yes, I know, " says Cap'n Jonadab. "But this ain't like starting the OldHome House. That was opening up a brand-new kind of hotel that nobodyever heard of before. This is peddling weather prophecies when there'sthe Gov'ment Weather Bureau running opposition--not to mention the OldFarmer's Almanac, and I don't know how many more, " he says. 

Brown took his patent leathers down off the rail of the piazza, give theashes of his cigar a flip--he knocked 'em into my hat that was on thefloor side of his chair, but he was too excited to mind--and he says:

"Confound it, man!" he says. "You can throw more cold water than afire-engine. Old Farmer's Almanac! This isn't any 'About this timelook out for snow' business. And it ain't any Washington cold slaw like'Weather for New England and Rocky Mountains, Tuesday to Friday; cold towarm; well done on the edges with a rare streak in the middle, precededor followed by rain, snow, or clearing. Wind, north to south, varyingeast and west. ' No siree! this is TO-DAY'S weather for Cape Cod, servedright off the griddle on a hot plate, and cooked by the chef at that. You don't realize what a regular dime-museum wonder that feller is, " hesays. 

Well, I suppose we didn't. You see, Jonadab and me, like the rest of thefolks around Wellmouth, had come to take Beriah Crocker and his weathernotions as the regular thing, like baked beans on a Saturday night. Beriah, he--

But there! I've been sailing stern first. Let's get her headed right, ifwe ever expect to turn the first mark. You see, 'twas this way:

'Twas in the early part of May follering the year that the "Old HomeHouse" was opened. We'd had the place all painted up, decks holy-stoned, bunks overhauled, and one thing or 'nother, and the "Old Home" was alltaut and shipshape, ready for the crew--boarders, I mean. Passages wasbooked all through the summer and it looked as if our second seasonwould be better'n our first. 

Then the Dillaway girl--she was christened Lobelia, like her mother, but she'd painted it out and cruised under the name of Belle since thefamily got rich--she thought 'twould be nice to have what she called a"spring house-party" for her particular friends 'fore the regular seasonopened. So Peter--he being engaged at the time and consequent in thatcondition where he'd have put on horns and "mooed" if she'd give theorder--he thought 'twould be nice, too, and for a week it was "all handson deck!" getting ready for the "house-party. "

Two days afore the thing was to go off the ways Brown gets a letter fromBelle, and in it says she's invited a whole lot of folks from Chicagoand New York and Boston and the land knows where, and that they've neverbeen to the Cape and she wants to show 'em what a "quaint" place itis. "Can't you get, " says she, "two or three delightful, queer, old'longshore characters to be at work 'round the hotel? It'll give such atouch of local color, " she says. 

So out comes Peter with the letter. 

"Barzilla, " he says to me, "I want some characters. Know anybody that'sa character?"

"Well, " says I, "there's Nate Slocum over to Orham. He'd steal anythingthat wa'n't spiked down. He's about the toughest character I can thinkof, offhand, this way. "

"Oh, thunder!" says Brown. "I don't want a crook; that wouldn't be anynovelty to THIS crowd, " he says. "What I'm after is an odd stick;a feller with pigeons in his loft. Not a lunatic, but jest a queergenius--little queerer than you and the Cap'n here. "

After a while we got his drift, and I happened to think of Beriah andhis chum, Eben Cobb. They lived in a little shanty over to Skakit P'intand got their living lobstering, and so on. Both of 'em had saved a fewthousand dollars, but you couldn't get a cent of it without giving 'emether, and they'd rather live like Portugees than white men any day, unless they was paid to change. Beriah's pet idee was foretelling whatthe weather was going to be. And he could do it, too, better'n anybodyI ever see. He'd smell a storm further'n a cat can smell fish, and hehardly ever made a mistake. Prided himself on it, you understand, like aboy does on his first long pants. His prophecies was his idols, so'sto speak, and you couldn't have hired him to foretell what he knew waswrong, not for no money. 

Peter said Beriah and Eben was just the sort of "cards" he was lookingfor and drove right over to see 'em. He hooked 'em, too. I knew hewould; he could talk a Come-Outer into believing that a Unitarian wasn'tbooked for Tophet, if he set out to. 

So the special train from Boston brought the "house-party" down, and ourtwo-seated buggy brought Beriah and Eben over. They didn't have anythingto do but to look "picturesque" and say "I snum!" and "I swan to man!"and they could do that to the skipper's taste. The city folks thoughtthey was "just too dear and odd for anything, " and made 'em bigger foolsthan ever, which wa'n't necessary. 

The second day of the "party" was to be a sailing trip clear down to thelife-saving station on Setuckit Beach. It certainly looked as if 'twasgoing to storm, and the Gov'ment predictions said it was, but Beriahsaid "No, " and stuck out that 'twould clear up by and by. Peter wantedto know what I thought about their starting, and I told him that 'twasmy experience that where weather was concerned Beriah was a good, safeanchorage. So they sailed away, and, sure enough, it cleared up fine. And the next day the Gov'ment fellers said "clear" and Beriah said"rain, " and she poured a flood. And, after three or four of suchexperiences, Beriah was all hunky with the "house-party, " and theylooked at him as a sort of wonderful freak, like a two-headed calf orthe "snake child, " or some such outrage. 

So, when the party was over, 'round comes Peter, busting with a newnotion. What he cal'lated to do was to start a weather prophesyingbureau all on his own hook, with Beriah for prophet, and him for managerand general advertiser, and Jonadab and me to help put up the moneyto get her going. He argued that summer folks from Scituate toProvincetown, on both sides of the Cape, would pay good prices for thereal thing in weather predictions. The Gov'ment bureau, so he said, covered too much ground, but Beriah was local and hit her right on thehead. His idee was to send Beriah's predictions by telegraph to agentsin every Cape town each morning, and the agents was to hand 'em tosusscribers. First week a free trial; after that, so much per prophecy. 

And it worked--oh, land, yes! it worked. Peter's letters and circularswould satisfy anybody that black was white, and the free trial was asure bait. I don't know why 'tis, but if you offered the smallpox free, there'd be a barrel of victims waiting in line to come down with it. Brown rigged up a little shanty on the bluff in front of the "Old Home, "and filled it full of barometers and thermometers and chronometers andcharts, and put Beriah and Eben inside to look wise and make b'lieve dosomething. That was the office of "The South Shore Weather Bureau, " and'twas sort of sacred and holy, and 'twould kill you to see the boarderstip-toeing up and peeking in the winder to watch them two old cootssquinting through a telescope at the sky or scribbling rubbish on paper. And Beriah was right 'most every time. I don't know why--my notionis that he was born that way, same as some folks are born lightningcalculators--but I'll never forget the first time Peter asked him how hedone it. 

"Wall, " drawls Beriah, "now to-day looks fine and clear, don't it? Butlast night my left elbow had rheumatiz in it, and this morning my bonesache, and my right toe-j'int is sore, so I know we'll have an easterlywind and rain this evening. If it had been my left toe now, why--"

Peter held up both hands. 

"That'll do, " he says. "I ain't asking any more questions. ONLY, if theboarders or outsiders ask you how you work it, you cut out the bonesand toe business and talk science and temperature to beat the cars. Understand, do you? It's science or no eight-fifty in the pay envelope. Left toe-joint!" And he goes off grinning. 

We had to have Eben, though he wasn't wuth a green hand's wages as aprophet. But him and Beriah stuck by each other like two flies in theglue-pot, and you couldn't hire one without t'other. Peter said'twas all right--two prophets looked better'n one, anyhow; and, assubscriptions kept up pretty well, and the Bureau paid a fair profit, Jonadab and me didn't kick. 

In July, Mrs. Freeman--she had charge of the upper decks in the "OldHome" and was rated head chambermaid--up and quit, and being as wecouldn't get another capable Cape Codder just then, Peter fetched downa woman from New York; one that a friend of old Dillaway's recommended. She was able seaman so far's the work was concerned, but she'd beengood-looking once and couldn't forget it, and she was one of themclippers that ain't happy unless they've got a man in tow. You know thekind: pretty nigh old enough to be a coal-barge, but all rigged up withbunting and frills like a yacht. 

Her name was Kelly, Emma Kelly, and she was a widow--whether from choiceor act of Providence I don't know. The other women servants was all downon her, of course, 'cause she had city ways and a style of wearingher togs that made their Sunday gowns and bonnets look like distresssignals. But they couldn't deny that she was a driver so far's her workwas concerned. She'd whoop through the hotel like a no'theaster and haveeverything done, and done well, by two o'clock in the afternoon. Thenshe'd be ready to dress up and go on parade to astonish the natives. 

Men--except the boarders, of course--was scarce around Wellmouth Port. First the Kelly lady begun to flag Cap'n Jonadab and me, but we sheeredoff and took to the offing. Jonadab, being a widower, had had hisexperience, and I never had the marrying disease and wasn't hankeringto catch it. So Emma had to look for other victims, and the prophet-shoplooked to her like the most likely feeding-ground. 

And, would you b'lieve it, them two old critters, Beriah and Eben, gobbled the bait like sculpins. If she'd been a woman like the kind theywas used to--the Cape kind, I mean--I don't s'pose they'd have paid anyattention to her; but she was diff'rent from anything they'd ever runup against, and the first thing you know, she had 'em both poke-hooked. 'Twas all in fun on her part first along, I cal'late, but pretty soonsome idiot let out that both of 'em was wuth money, and then the racewas on in earnest. 

She'd drop in at the weather-factory 'long in the afternoon and pretendto be terrible interested in the goings on there. 

"I don't see how you two gentlemen CAN tell whether it's going to rainor not. I think you are the most WONDERFUL men! Do tell me, Mr. Crocker, will it be good weather to-morrer? I wanted to take a little walk up tothe village about four o'clock if it was. "

And then Beriah'd swell out like a puffing pig and put on airs and lookout of the winder, and crow:

"Yes'm, I jedge that we'll have a southerly breeze in the morningwith some fog, but nothing to last, nothing to last. The afternoon, Ical'late, 'll be fair. I--I--that is to say, I was figgering on goin' tothe village myself to-morrer. "

Then Emma would pump up a blush, and smile, and purr that she was SOglad, 'cause then she'd have comp'ny. And Eben would glower at Beriahand Beriah'd grin sort of superior-like, and the mutual barometer, so'sto speak, would fall about a foot during the next hour. The brotherlybusiness between the two prophets was coming to an end fast, and all onaccount of Mrs. Kelly. 

She played 'em even for almost a month; didn't show no preferenceone way or the other. First 'twas Eben that seemed to be eating up towind'ard, and then Beriah'd catch a puff and gain for a spell. Cap'nJonadab and me was uneasy, for we was afraid the Weather Bureau wouldsuffer 'fore the thing was done with; but Peter was away, and we didn'tlike to interfere till he come home. 

And then, all at once, Emma seemed to make up her mind, and 'twas allEben from that time on. The fact is, the widder had learned, somehow or'nother, that he had the most money of the two. Beriah didn't give up;he stuck to it like a good one, but he was falling behind and he knewit. As for Eben, he couldn't help showing a little joyful pity, so's tospeak, for his partner, and the atmosphere in that rain lab'ratory gotso frigid that I didn't know but we'd have to put up a stove. The twowizards was hardly on speaking terms. 

The last of August come and the "Old Home House" was going to close upon the day after Labor Day. Peter was down again, and so was Ebenezerand Belle, and there was to be high jinks to celebrate the season'swind-up. There was to be a grand excursion and clambake at SetuckitBeach and all hands was going--four catboats full. 

Of course, the weather must be good or it's no joy job taking females toSetuckit in a catboat. The night before the big day, Peter came out tothe Weather Bureau and Jonadab and me dropped in likewise. Beriah wasthere all alone; Eben was out walking with Emma. 

"Well, Jeremiah, " says Brown, chipper as a mack'rel gull on a spar-buoy, "what's the outlook for to-morrer? The Gov'ment sharp says there's a bigstorm on the way up from Florida. Is he right, or only an 'also ran, ' asusual?"

"Wall, " says Beriah, goin' to the door, "I don't know, Mr. Brown. Itdon't look just right; I swan it don't! I can tell you better in themorning. I hope 'twill be fair, too, 'cause I was cal'lating to geta day off and borrer your horse and buggy and go over to the Ostablecamp-meeting. It's the big day over there, " he says. 

Now, I knew of course, that he meant he was going to take the widderwith him, but Peter spoke up and says he:

"Sorry, Beriah, but you're too late. Eben asked me for the horse andbuggy this morning. I told him he could have the open buggy; the otherone's being repaired, and I wouldn't lend the new surrey to the GrandPanjandrum himself. Eben's going to take the fair Emma for a ride, " hesays. "Beriah, I'm afraid our beloved Cobb is, in the innocence of hisyouth, being roped in by the sophisticated damsel in the shoo-fly hat, "says he. 

Me and Jonadab hadn't had time to tell Peter how matters stood betwixtthe prophets, or most likely he wouldn't have said that. It hit Beriahlike a snowslide off a barn roof. I found out afterwards that the widderhad more'n half promised to go with HIM. He slumped down in his chairas if his mainmast was carried away, and he didn't even rise to blowfor the rest of the time we was in the shanty. Just set there, lookingfishy-eyed at the floor. 

Next morning I met Eben prancing around in his Sunday clothes and with anecktie on that would make a rainbow look like a mourning badge. 

"Hello!" says I. "You seem to be pretty chipper. You ain't going tostart for that fifteen-mile ride through the woods to Ostable, be you?Looks to me as if 'twas going to rain. "

"The predictions for this day, " says he, "is cloudy in the forenoon, butclearing later on. Wind, sou'east, changing to south and sou'west. "

"Did Beriah send that out?" says I, looking doubtful, for if ever itlooked like dirty weather, I thought it did right then. 

"ME and Beriah sent it out, " he says, jealous-like. But I knew 'twasBeriah's forecast or he wouldn't have been so sure of it. 

Pretty soon out comes Peter, looking dubious at the sky. 

"If it was anybody else but Beriah, " he says, "I'd say this morningsprophecy ought to be sent to Puck. Where is the seventh son of theseventh son--the only original American seer?"

He wasn't in the weather-shanty, and we finally found him on one of theseats 'way up on the edge of the bluff. He didn't look 'round when wecome up, but just stared at the water. 

"Hey, Elijah!" says Brown. He was always calling Beriah "Elijah" or"Isaiah" or "Jeremiah" or some other prophet name out of Scripture. "Does this go?" And he held out the telegraph-blank with the morning'sprediction on it. 

Beriah looked around just for a second. He looked to me sort of sickand pale--that is, as pale as his sun-burned rhinoceros hide would everturn. 

"The forecast for to-day, " says he, looking at the water again, "iscloudy in the forenoon, but clearing later on. Wind sou'east, changingto south and sou'west. "

"Right you are!" says Peter, joyful. "We start for Setuckit, then. Andhere's where the South Shore Weather Bureau hands another swift jolt toyour Uncle Sam. "

So, after breakfast, the catboats loaded up, the girls giggling andscreaming, and the men boarders dressed in what they hoped was sea-togs. They sailed away 'round the lighthouse and headed up the shore, and thewind was sou'east sure and sartin, but the "clearing" part wasn't insight yet. 

Beriah didn't watch 'em go. He stayed in the shanty. But by and by, whenEben drove the buggy out of the barn and Emma come skipping down thepiazza steps, I see him peeking out of the little winder. 

The Kelly critter had all sail sot and colors flying. Her dress was somesort of mosquito netting with wall-paper posies on it, and there wasmore ribbons flapping than there is reef-p'ints on a mainsail. Andher hat! Great guns! It looked like one of them pictures you see in aflower-seed catalogue. 

"Oh!" she squeals, when she sees the buggy. "Oh! Mr. Cobb. Ain't youafraid to go in that open carriage? It looks to me like rain. "

But Eben waved his flipper, scornful. "My forecast this morning, " sayshe, "is cloudy now, but clearing by and by. You trust to me, Mis' Kelly. Weather's my business. "

"Of COURSE I trust you, Mr. Cobb, " she says, "Of course I trust you, butI should hate to spile my gown, that's all. "

They drove out of the yard, fine as fiddlers, and I watched 'em go. WhenI turned around, there was Beriah watching 'em too, and he was smilingfor the first time that morning. But it was one of them kind of smilesthat makes you wish he'd cry. 

At ha'f-past ten it begun to sprinkle; at eleven 'twas raining hard; atnoon 'twas a pouring, roaring, sou'easter, and looked good for the nexttwelve hours at least. 

"Good Lord! Beriah, " says Cap'n Jonadab, running into the WeatherBureau, "you've missed stays THIS time, for sure. Has yourprophecy-works got indigestion?" he says. 

But Beriah wasn't there. The shanty was closed, and we found outafterwards that he spent that whole day in the store down at the Port. 

By two o'clock 'twas so bad that I put on my ileskins and went over toWellmouth and telephoned to the Setuckit Beach life-saving stationto find out if the clambakers had got there right side up. They'd gotthere; fact is, they was in the station then, and the language Peterhove through that telephone was enough to melt the wires. 'Twas all inthe shape of compliments to the prophet, and I heard Central tell himshe'd report it to the head office. Brown said 'twas blowing so they'dhave to come back by the inside channel, and that meant landing 'way upHarniss way, and hiring teams to come to the Port with from there. 

'Twas nearly eight when they drove into the yard and come sloppingup the steps. And SUCH a passel of drownded rats you never see. Thewomen-folks made for their rooms, but the men hopped around the parlor, shedding puddles with every hop, and hollering for us to trot out thehead of the Weather Bureau. 

"Bring him to me, " orders Peter, stopping to pick his pants loose fromhis legs; "I yearn to caress him. "

And what old Dillaway said was worse'n that. 

But Beriah didn't come to be caressed. 'Twas quarter past nine when weheard wheels in the yard. 

"By mighty!" yells Cap'n Jonadab; "it's the camp-meeting pilgrims. Iforgot them. Here's a show. "

He jumped to open the door, but it opened afore he got there and Beriahcome in. He didn't pay no attention to the welcome he got from the gang, but just stood on the sill, pale, but grinning the grin that a terrierdog has on just as you're going to let the rat out of the trap. 

Somebody outside says: "Whoa, consarn you!" Then there was a thump and asloshy stamping on the steps, and in comes Eben and the widder. 

I had one of them long-haired, foreign cats once that a British skippergave me. 'Twas a yeller and black one and it fell overboard. When wefished it out it looked just like the Kelly woman done then. Everybodybut Beriah just screeched--we couldn't help it. But the prophet didn'tlaugh; he only kept on grinning. 

Emma looked once round the room, and her eyes, as well as you could see'em through the snarl of dripping hair and hat-trimming, fairly snapped. Then she went up the stairs three steps at a time. 

Eben didn't say a word. He just stood there and leaked. Leaked andsmiled. Yes, sir! his face, over the mess that had been that rainbownecktie, had the funniest look of idiotic joy on it that ever _I_ see. In a minute everybody else shut up. We didn't know what to make of it. 

'Twas Beriah that spoke first. 

"He! he! he!" he chuckled. "He! he! he! Wasn't it kind of wet comingthrough the woods, Mr. Cobb? What does Mrs. Kelly think of the day herbeau picked out to go to camp-meeting in?"

Then Eben came out of his trance. 

"Beriah, " says he, holding out a dripping flipper, "shake!"

But Beriah didn't shake. Just stood still. 

"I've got a s'prise for you, shipmate, " goes on Eben. "Who did you saythat lady was?"

Beriah didn't answer. I begun to think that some of the wet had soakedthrough the assistant prophet's skull and had give him water on thebrain. 

"You called her Mis' Kelly, didn't you?" gurgled Eben. "Wall, thatain't her name. Her and me stopped at the Baptist parsonage over to EastHarniss when we was on the way home and got married. She's Mis' Cobbnow, " he says. 

Well, the queerest part of it was that 'twas the bad weather was reallywhat brought things to a head so sudden. Eben hadn't spunked up anywherenigh enough courage to propose, but they stopped at Ostable so long, waiting for the rain to let up, that 'twas after dark when they was halfway home. Then Emma--oh, she was a slick one!--said that her reputationwould be ruined, out that way with a man that wa'n't her husband. Ifthey was married now, she said--and even a dummy could take THAT hint. 

I found Beriah at the weather-shanty about an hour afterwards with hishead on his arms. He looked up when I come in. 

"Mr. Wingate, " he says, "I'm a fool, but for the land's sake don't thinkI'm SUCH a fool as not to know that this here storm was bound to striketo-day. I lied, " he says; "I lied about the weather for the first timein my life; lied right up and down so as to get her mad with him. Myrepertation's gone forever. There's a feller in the Bible that soldhis--his birthday, I think 'twas--for a mess of porridge. I'm him;only, " and he groaned awful, "they've cheated me out of the porridge. "

But you ought to have read the letters Peter got next day fromsubscribers that had trusted to the prophecy and had gone on picnicsand such like. The South Shore Weather Bureau went out of business rightthen. 

THE DOG STAR

It commenced the day after we took old man Stumpton out codfishing. Meand Cap'n Jonadab both told Peter T. Brown that cod wa'n't biting muchat that season, but he said cod be jiggered. 

"What's troubling me just now is landing suckers, " he says. 

So the four of us got into the Patience M. --she's Jonadab's catboat--andsot sail for the Crab Ledge. And we hadn't more'n got our lines over theside than we struck into a school of dogfish. Now, if you know anythingabout fishing you know that when the dogfish strike on it's "good-by, cod!" So when Stumpton hauled a big fat one over the rail I could tellthat Jonadab was ready to swear. But do you think it disturbed your oldfriend, Peter Brown? No, sir! He never winked an eye. 

"By Jove!" he sings out, staring at that dogfish as if 'twas a golddollar. "By Jove!" says he, "that's the finest specimen of a Labradormack'rel ever I see. Bait up, Stump, and go at 'em again. "

So Stumpton, having lived in Montana ever sence he was five years old, and not having sighted salt water in all that time, he don't know butwhat there IS such critters as "Labrador mack'rel, " and he goes at 'em, hammer and tongs. When we come ashore we had eighteen dogfish, foursculpin and a skate, and Stumpton was the happiest loon in OstableCounty. It was all we could do to keep him from cooking one of them"mack'rel" with his own hands. If Jonadab hadn't steered him out of theway while I sneaked down to the Port and bought a bass, we'd have had toeat dogfish--we would, as sure as I'm a foot high. 

Stumpton and his daughter, Maudina, was at the Old Home House. 'Twas late in September, and the boarders had cleared out. OldDillaway--Peter's father-in-law--had decoyed the pair on from Montanabecause him and some Wall Street sharks were figgering on buying somecopper country out that way that Stumpton owned. Then Dillaway was tooksick, and Peter, who was just back from his wedding tower, brought theMontana victims down to the Cape with the excuse to give 'em a good timealongshore, but really to keep 'em safe and out of the way till Ebenezergot well enough to finish robbing 'em. Belle--Peter's wife--stayedbehind to look after papa. 

Stumpton was a great tall man, narrer in the beam, and with a figgerheadlike a henhawk. He enjoyed himself here at the Cape. He fished, andloafed, and shot at a mark. He sartinly could shoot. The only thing hewas wishing for was something alive to shoot at, and Brown had promisedto take him out duck shooting. 'Twas too early for ducks, but thatdidn't worry Peter any; he'd a-had ducks to shoot at if he bought allthe poultry in the township. 

Maudina was like her name, pretty, but sort of soft and mushy. She hadbig blue eyes and a baby face, and her principal cargo was poetry. Shehad a deckload of it, and she'd heave it overboard every time the windchanged. She was forever ordering the ocean to "roll on, " but she didn'tmean it; I had her out sailing once when the bay was a little miterugged, and I know. She was just out of a convent school, and you couldsee she wasn't used to most things--including men. 

The first week slipped along, and everything was serene. Bulletins fromEbenezer more encouraging every day, and no squalls in sight. But 'twasalmost too slick. I was afraid the calm was a weather breeder, and sureenough, the hurricane struck us the day after that fishing trip. 

Peter had gone driving with Maudina and her dad, and me and Cap'nJonadab was smoking on the front piazza. I was pulling at a pipe, butthe cap'n had the home end of one of Stumpton's cigars harpooned on thelittle blade of his jackknife, and was busy pumping the last drop ofcomfort out of it. I never see a man who wanted to get his money's wuthmore'n Jonadab, I give you my word, I expected to see him swaller thatcigar remnant every minute. 

And all to once he gives a gurgle in his throat. 

"Take a drink of water, " says I, scared like. 

"Well, by time!" says he, pointing. 

A feller had just turned the corner of the house and was heading up inour direction. He was a thin, lengthy craft, with more'n the averageamount of wrists sticking out of his sleeves, and with long black hairtrimmed aft behind his ears and curling on the back of his neck. Hehad high cheek bones and kind of sunk-in black eyes, and altogether helooked like "Dr. Macgoozleum, the Celebrated Blackfoot Medicine Man. "If he'd hollered: "Sagwa Bitters, only one dollar a bottle!" I wouldn'thave been surprised. 

But his clothes--don't say a word! His coat was long and buttoned uptight, so's you couldn't tell whether he had a vest on or not--though'twas a safe bet he hadn't--and it and his pants was made of the loudestkind of black-and-white checks. No nice quiet pepper-and-salt, youunderstand, but the checkerboard kind, the oilcloth kind, the kind thatlooks like the marble floor in the Boston post-office. They was prettytolerable seedy, and so was his hat. Oh, he was a last year's bird'snest NOW, but when them clothes was fresh--whew! the northern lights anda rainbow mixed wouldn't have been more'n a cloudy day 'longside of him. 

He run up to the piazza like a clipper coming into port, and he sweepsoff that rusty hat and hails us grand and easy. 

"Good-morning, gentlemen, " says he. 

"We don't want none, " says Jonadab, decided. 

The feller looked surprised. "I beg your pardon, " says he. "You don'twant any--what?"

"We don't want any 'Life of King Solomon' nor 'The World's BigClassifyers. ' And we don't want to buy any patent paint, nor sewingmachines, nor clothes washers, nor climbing evergreen roses, norrheumatiz salve. And we don't want our pictures painted, neither. "

Jonadab was getting excited. Nothing riles him wuss than a peddler, unless it's a woman selling tickets to a church fair. The feller swelledup until I thought the top button on that thunderstorm coat would draganchor, sure. 

"You are mistaken, " says he. "I have called to see Mr. Peter Brown; heis--er--a relative of mine. "

Well, you could have blown me and Jonadab over with a cat's-paw. We wenton our beam ends, so's to speak. A relation of Peter T. 's; why, if he'dbeen twice the panorama he was we'd have let him in when he said that. Loud clothes, we figgered, must run in the family. We remembered howPeter was dressed the first time we met him. 

"You don't say!" says I. "Come right up and set down, Mr. --Mr. --"

"Montague, " says the feller. "Booth Montague. Permit me to present mycard. "

He drove into the hatches of his checkerboards and rummaged around, buthe didn't find nothing but holes, I jedge, because he looked dreadfulput out, and begged our pardons five or six times. 

"Dear me!" says he. "This is embarassing. I've forgot my cardcase. "

We told him never mind the card; any of Peter's folks was more'nwelcome. So he come up the steps and set down in a piazza chair likeKing Edward perching on his throne. Then he hove out some remarks aboutits being a nice morning, all in a condescending sort of way, as ifhe usually attended to the weather himself, but had been sort of busylately, and had handed the job over to one of the crew. We told him allabout Peter, and Belle, and Ebenezer, and about Stumpton and Maudina. He was a good deal interested, and asked consider'ble many questions. Pretty soon we heard a carriage rattling up the road. 

"Hello!" says I. "I guess that's Peter and the rest coming now. "

Mr. Montague got off his throne kind of sudden. 

"Ahem!" says he. "Is there a room here where I may--er--receive Mr. Brown in a less public manner? It will be rather a--er--surprise forhim, and--"

Well, there was a good deal of sense in that. I know 'twould surpriseME to have such an image as he was sprung on me without any notice. Westeered him into the gents' parlor, and shut the door. In a minute thehorse and wagon come into the yard. Maudina said she'd had a "heavenly"drive, and unloaded some poetry concerning the music of billows and pinetrees, and such. She and her father went up to their rooms, and when thedecks was clear Jonadab and me tackled Peter T. 

"Peter, " says Jonadab, "we've got a surprise for you. One of yourrelations has come. "

Brown, he did look surprised, but he didn't act as he was any toojoyful. 

"Relation of MINE?" says he. "Come off! What's his name?"

We told him Montague, Booth Montague. He laughed. 

"Wake up and turn over, " he says. "They never had anything like that inmy family. Booth Montague! Sure 'twa'n't Algernon Cough-drops?"

We said no, 'twas Booth Montague, and that he was waiting in the gents'parlor. So he laughed again, and said somethin' about sending for LauraLean Jibbey, and then we started. 

The checkerboard feller was standing up when we opened the door. "Hello, Petey!" says he, cool as a cucumber, and sticking out a foot and a halfof wrist with a hand at the end of it. 

Now, it takes considerable to upset Peter Theodosius Brown. Up tothat time and hour I'd have bet on him against anything short of anearthquake. But Booth Montague done it--knocked him plumb out of water. Peter actually turned white. 

"Great--" he began, and then stopped and swallered. "HANK!" he says, andset down in a chair. 

"The same, " says Montague, waving the starboard extension of thecheckerboard. "Petey, it does me good to set my eyes on you. Especiallynow, when you're the real thing. "

Brown never answered for a minute. Then he canted over to port andreached down into his pocket. "Well, " says he, "how much?"

But Hank, or Booth, or Montague--whatever his name was--he waved hisflipper disdainful. "Nun-nun-nun-no, Petey, my son, " he says, smiling. "It ain't 'how much?' this time. When I heard how you'd rung the bellthe first shot out the box and was rolling in coin, I said to myself:'Here's where the prod comes back to his own. ' I've come to live withyou, Petey, and you pay the freight. "

Peter jumped out of the chair. "LIVE with me!" he says. "You Fridayevening amateur night! It's back to 'Ten Nights in a Barroom' foryours!" he says. 

"Oh, no, it ain't!" says Hank, cheerful. "It'll be back to PopperDillaway and Belle. When I tell 'em I'm your little cousin Henry and howyou and me worked the territories together--why--well, I guess there'llbe gladness round the dear home nest; hey?"

Peter didn't say nothing. Then he fetched a long breath and motionedwith his head to Cap'n Jonadab and me. We see we weren't invited to thefamily reunion, so we went out and shut the door. But we did pity Peter;I snum if we didn't!

It was most an hour afore Brown come out of that room. When he did hetook Jonadab and me by the arm and led us out back of the barn. 

"Fellers, " he says, sad and mournful, "that--that plaster cast in acrazy-quilt, " he says, referring to Montague, "is a cousin of mine. That's the living truth, " says he, "and the only excuse I can make isthat 'tain't my fault. He's my cousin, all right, and his name's HankSchmults, but the sooner you box that fact up in your forgetory, thesmoother 'twill be for yours drearily, Peter T. Brown. He's to be Mr. Booth Montague, the celebrated English poet, so long's he hangs out atthe Old Home; and he's to hang out here until--well, until I can dopeout a way to get rid of him. "

We didn't say nothing for a minute--just thought. Then Jonadab says, kind of puzzled: "What makes you call him a poet?" he says. 

Peter answered pretty snappy: "'Cause there's only two or three jobsthat a long-haired image like him could hold down, " he says. "I'd callhim a musician if he could play 'Bedelia' on a jews'-harp; but hecan't, so's he's got to be a poet. "

And a poet he was for the next week or so. Peter drove down to Wellmouththat night and bought some respectable black clothes, and the folleringmorning, when the celebrated Booth Montague come sailing into the diningroom, with his curls brushed back from his forehead, and his new cutawayon, and his wrists covered up with clean cuffs, blessed if he didn'tlook distinguished--at least, that's the only word I can think of thatfills the bill. And he talked beautiful language, not like the slang hehove at Brown and us in the gents' parlor. 

Peter done the honors, introducing him to us and the Stumptons asa friend who'd come from England unexpected, and Hank he bowed andscraped, and looked absent-minded and crazy-like a poet ought to. Oh, hedone well at it! You could see that 'twas just pie for him. 

And 'twas pie for Maudina, too. Being, as I said, kind of greenconcerning men folks, and likewise taking to poetry like a cat to fish, she just fairly gushed over this fraud. She'd reel off a couple offathom of verses from fellers named Spencer or Waller, or such like, andhe'd never turn a hair, but back he'd come and say they was good, but hepreferred Confucius, or Methuselah, or somebody so antique that she nornobody else ever heard of 'em. Oh, he run a safe course, and he had HERin tow afore they turned the first mark. 

Jonadab and me got worried. We see how things was going, and we didn'tlike it. Stumpton was having too good a time to notice, going after"Labrador mack'rel" and so on, and Peter T. Was too busy steeringthe cruises to pay any attention. But one afternoon I come by thesummerhouse unexpected, and there sat Booth Montague and Maudina, himwith a clove hitch round her waist, and she looking up into his eyeslike they were peekholes in the fence 'round paradise. That was enough. It just simply COULDN'T go any further, so that night me and Jonadab hada confab up in my room. 

"Barzilla, " says the cap'n, "if we tell Peter that that relation ofhis is figgering to marry Maudina Stumpton for her money, and that he'smore'n likely to elope with her, 'twill pretty nigh kill Pete, won't it?No, sir; it's up to you and me. We've got to figger out some way to getrid of the critter ourselves. "

"It's a wonder to me, " I says, "that Peter puts up with him. Why don'the order him to clear out, and tell Belle if he wants to? She can'tblame Peter 'cause his uncle was father to an outrage like that. "

Jonadab looks at me scornful. "Can't, hey?" he says. "And her high-tonedand chumming in with the bigbugs? It's easy to see you never wasmarried, " says he. 

Well, I never was, so I shut up. 

We set there and thought and thought, and by and by I commenced to sightan idee in the offing. 'Twas hull down at first, but pretty soon I gotit into speaking distance, and then I broke it gentle to Jonadab. Hegrabbed at it like the "Labrador mack'rel" grabbed Stumpton's hook. Weset up and planned until pretty nigh three o'clock, and all the nextday we put in our spare time loading provisions and water aboard thePatience M. We put grub enough aboard to last a month. 

Just at daylight the morning after that we knocked at the door ofMontague's bedroom. When he woke up enough to open the door--it tooksome time, 'cause eating and sleeping was his mainstay--we told him thatwe was planning an early morning fishing trip, and if he wanted to gowith the folks he must come down to the landing quick. He promised tohurry, and I stayed by the door to see that he didn't get away. In aboutten minutes we had him in the skiff rowing off to the Patience M. 

"Where's the rest of the crowd?" says he, when he stepped aboard. 

"They'll be along when we're ready for 'em, " says I. "You go belowthere, will you, and stow away the coats and things. "

So he crawled into the cabin, and I helped Jonadab get up sail. Weintended towing the skiff, so I made her fast astern. In half a shake wewas under way and headed out of the cove. When that British poet stuckhis nose out of the companion we was abreast the p'int. 

"Hi!" says he, scrambling into the cockpit. "What's this mean?"

I was steering and feeling toler'ble happy over the way things hadworked out. 

"Nice sailing breeze, ain't it?" says I, smiling. 

"Where's Mau-Miss Stumpton?" he says, wild like. 

"She's abed, I cal'late, " says I, "getting her beauty sleep. Why don'tYOU turn in? Or are you pretty enough now?"

He looked first at me and then at Jonadab, and his face turned a littleyellower than usual. 

"What kind of a game is this?" he asks, brisk. "Where are you going?"

'Twas Jonadab that answered. "We're bound, " says he, "for the Bermudas. It's a lovely place to spend the winter, they tell me, " he says. 

That poet never made no remarks. He jumped to the stern and caught holdof the skiff's painter. I shoved him out of the way and picked up theboat hook. Jonadab rolled up his shirt sleeves and laid hands on thecenterboard stick. 

"I wouldn't, if I was you, " says the cap'n. 

Jonadab weighs pretty close to two hundred, and most of it's gristle. I'm not quite so much, fur's tonnage goes, but I ain't exactly a canarybird. Montague seemed to size things up in a jiffy. He looked at us, then at the sail, and then at the shore out over the stern. 

"Done!" says he. "Done! And by a couple of 'farmers'!"

And down he sets on the thwart. 

Well, we sailed all that day and all that night. 'Course we didn'treally intend to make the Bermudas. What we intended to do was to cruisearound alongshore for a couple of weeks, long enough for the Stumptonsto get back to Dillaway's, settle the copper business and break forMontana. Then we was going home again and turn Brown's relation over tohim to take care of. We knew Peter'd have some plan thought out by thattime. We'd left a note telling him what we'd done, and saying that wetrusted to him to explain matters to Maudina and her dad. We knew thatexplaining was Peter's main holt. 

The poet was pretty chipper for a spell. He set on the thwart andbragged about what he'd do when he got back to "Petey" again. He said wecouldn't git rid of him so easy. Then he spun yarns about what him andBrown did when they was out West together. They was interesting yarns, but we could see why Peter wa'n't anxious to introduce Cousin Henry toBelle. Then the Patience M. Got out where 'twas pretty rugged, and sherolled consider'ble and after that we didn't hear much more from friendBooth--he was too busy to talk. 

That night me and Jonadab took watch and watch. In the morning itthickened up and looked squally. I got kind of worried. By nine o'clockthere was every sign of a no'theaster, and we see we'd have to put insomewheres and ride it out. So we headed for a place we'll call Baytown, though that wa'n't the name of it. It's a queer, old-fashioned town, andit's on an island; maybe you can guess it from that. 

Well, we run into the harbor and let go anchor. Jonadab crawled intothe cabin to get some terbacker, and I was for'ard coiling the throathalyard. All at once I heard oars rattling, and I turned my head; what Isee made me let out a yell like a siren whistle. 

There was that everlasting poet in the skiff--you remember we'dbeen towing it astern--and he was jest cutting the painter with hisjackknife. Next minute he'd picked up the oars and was heading for thewharf, doubling up and stretching out like a frog swimming, and with hiscurls streaming in the wind like a rooster's tail in a hurricane. Hehad a long start 'fore Jonadab and me woke up enough to think of chasinghim. 

But we woke up fin'lly, and the way we flew round that catboat was acaution. I laid into them halyards, and I had the mainsail up to thepeak afore Jonadab got the anchor clear of the bottom. Then I jumped tothe tiller, and the Patience M. Took after that skiff like a pup aftera tomcat. We run alongside the wharf just as Booth Hank climbed over thestringpiece. 

"Get after him, Barzilla!" hollers Cap'n Jonadab. "I'll make her fast. "

Well, I hadn't took more'n three steps when I see 'twas goin' to be along chase. Montague unfurled them thin legs of his and got over theground something wonderful. All you could see was a pile of dust andcoat tails flapping. 

Up on the wharf we went and round the corner into a straggly kind ofroad with old-fashioned houses on both sides of it. Nobody in theyards, nobody at the windows; quiet as could be, except that off ahead, somewheres, there was music playing. 

That road was a quarter of a mile long, but we galloped through it sofast that the scenery was nothing but a blur. Booth was gaining all thetime, but I stuck to it like a good one. We took a short cut through ayard, piled over a fence and come out into another road, and up at thehead of it was a crowd of folks--men and women and children and dogs. 

"Stop thief!" I hollers, and 'way astern I heard Jonadab bellering:"Stop thief!"

Montague dives headfirst for the crowd. He fell over a baby carriage, and I gained a tack 'fore he got up. He wa'n't more'n ten yards aheadwhen I come busting through, upsetting children and old women, andlanded in what I guess was the main street of the place and rightabreast of a parade that was marching down the middle of it. 

First there was the band, four fellers tooting and banging like fo'masthands on a fishing smack in a fog. Then there was a big darky toting abanner with "Jenkins' Unparalleled Double Uncle Tom's Cabin Company, No. 2, " on it in big letters. Behind him was a boy leading two great, savagelooking dogs--bloodhounds, I found out afterwards--by chains. Then comea pony cart with Little Eva and Eliza's child in it; Eva was all goldhair and beautifulness. And astern of her was Marks the Lawyer, on hisdonkey. There was lots more behind him, but these was all I had time tosee just then. 

Now, there was but one way for Booth Hank to get acrost that street, andthat was to bust through the procession. And, as luck would have it, theplace he picked out to cross was just ahead of the bloodhounds. And thefirst thing I knew, them dogs stretched out their noses and took a longsniff, and then bust out howling like all possessed. The boy, he triedto hold 'em, but 'twas no go. They yanked the chains out of his handsand took after that poet as if he owed 'em something. And every one ofthe four million other dogs that was in the crowd on the sidewalks fellinto line, and such howling and yapping and scampering and screaming younever heard. 

Well, 'twas a mixed-up mess. That was the end of the parade. Next minuteI was racing across country with the whole town and the Uncle Tommersastern of me, and a string of dogs stretched out ahead fur's you couldsee. 'Way up in the lead was Booth Montague and the bloodhounds, andaway aft I could hear Jonadab yelling: "Stop thief!"

'Twas lively while it lasted, but it didn't last long. There was alittle hill at the end of the field, and where the poet dove over'tother side of it the bloodhounds all but had him. Afore I got to thetop of the rise I heard the awfullest powwow going on in the holler, andthinks I: "THEY'RE EATING HIM ALIVE!"

But they wan't. When I hove in sight Montague was setting up on theground at the foot of the sand bank he'd fell into, and the two houndswas rolling over him, lapping his face and going on as if he was theirgrandpa jest home from sea with his wages in his pocket. And round them, in a double ring, was all the town dogs, crazy mad, and barking andsnarling, but scared to go any closer. 

In a minute more the folks begun to arrive; boys first, then girls andmen, and then the women. Marks came trotting up, pounding the donkeywith his umbrella. 

"Here, Lion! Here, Tige!" he yells. "Quit it! Let him alone!" Then helooks at Montague, and his jaw kind of drops. 

"Why--why, HANK!" he says. 

A tall, lean critter, in a black tail coat and a yaller vest andlavender pants, comes puffing up. He was the manager, we found outafterward. 

"Have they bit him?" says he. Then he done just the same as Marks;his mouth opened and his eyes stuck out. "HANK SCHMULTS, by the livingjingo!" says he. 

Booth Montague looks at the two of 'em kind of sick and lonesome. "Hello, Barney! How are you, Sullivan?" he says. 

I thought 'twas about time for me to get prominent. I stepped up, andwas just going to say something when somebody cuts in ahead of me. 

"Hum!" says a voice, a woman's voice, and tolerable crisp and vinegary. "Hum! it's you, is it? I've been looking for YOU!"

'Twas Little Eva in the pony cart. Her lovely posy hat was hanging onthe back of her neck, her gold hair had slipped back so's you could seethe black under it, and her beautiful red cheeks was kind of streaky. She looked some older and likewise mad. 

"Hum!" says she, getting out of the cart. "It's you, is it, HankSchmults? Well, p'r'aps you'll tell me where you've been for the lasttwo weeks? What do you mean by running away and leaving your--"

Montague interrupted her. "Hold on, Maggie, hold on!" he begs. "DON'Tmake a row here. It's all a mistake; I'll explain it to you all right. Now, please--"

"Explain!" hollers Eva, kind of curling up her fingers and moving towardhim. "Explain, will you? Why, you miserable, low-down--"

But the manager took hold of her arm. He'd been looking at the crowd, and I cal'late he saw that here was the chance for the best kind of anadvertisement. He whispered in her ear. Next thing I knew she claspedher hands together, let out a scream and runs up and grabs thecelebrated British poet round the neck. 

"Booth!" says she. "My husband! Saved! Saved!"

And she went all to pieces and cried all over his necktie. And thenMarks trots up the child, and that young one hollers: "Papa! papa!" andtackles Hank around the legs. And I'm blessed if Montague don't slap hishand to his forehead, and toss back his curls, and look up at the sky, and sing out: "My wife and babe! Restored to me after all these years!The heavens be thanked!"

Well, 'twas a sacred sort of time. The town folks tiptoed away, the menlooking solemn but glad, and the women swabbing their deadlights andsaying how affecting 'twas, and so on. Oh, you could see that show woulddo business THAT night, if it never did afore. 

The manager got after Jonadab and me later on, and did his best to pumpus, but he didn't find out much. He told us that Montague belonged tothe Uncle Tom's Cabin Company, and that he'd disappeared a fortni't orso afore, when they were playing at Hyannis. Eva was his wife, and thechild was their little boy. The bloodhounds knew him, and that's whythey chased him so. 

"What was you two yelling 'Stop thief!' after him for?" says he. "Has hestole anything?"

We says "No. "

"Then what did you want to get him for?" he says. 

"We didn't, " says Jonadab. "We wanted to get rid of him. We don't wantto see him no more. "

You could tell that the manager was puzzled, but he laughed. 

"All right, " says he. "If I know anything about Maggie--that's Mrs. Schmults--he won't get loose ag'in. "

We only saw Montague to talk to but once that day. Then he peeked outfrom under the winder shade at the hotel and asked us if we'd toldanybody where he'd been. When he found we hadn't, he was thankful. 

"You tell Petey, " says he, "that he's won the whole pot, kitty and all. I don't think I'll visit him again, nor Belle, neither. "

"I wouldn't, " says I. "They might write to Maudina that you was amarried man. And old Stumpton's been praying for something alive toshoot at, " I says. 

The manager gave Jonadab and me a couple of tickets, and we went to theshow that night. And when we saw Booth Hank Montague parading about thestage and defying the slave hunters, and telling 'em he was a free man, standing on the Lord's free soil, and so on, we realized 'twould havebeen a crime to let him do anything else. 

"As an imitation poet, " says Jonadab, "he was a kind of mildewedarticle, but as a play actor--well, there may be some that can beat him, but _I_ never see 'em!"

THE MARE AND THE MOTOR

Them Todds had got on my nerves. 'Twas Peter's ad that brought 'em down. You see, 'twas 'long toward the end of the season at the Old Home, andBrown had been advertising in the New York and Boston papers to "bagthe leftovers, " as he called it. Besides the reg'lar hogwash about the"breath of old ocean" and the "simple, cleanly living of the bygonedays we dream about, " there was some new froth concerning hunting andfishing. You'd think the wild geese roosted on the flagpole nights, andthe bluefish clogged up the bay so's you could walk on their back finswithout wetting your feet--that is, if you wore rubbers and trod light. 

"There!" says Peter T. , waving the advertisement and crowing gladsome;"they'll take to that like your temp'rance aunt to brandy cough-drops. We'll have to put up barbed wire to keep 'em off. "

"Humph!" grunts Cap'n Jonadab. "Anybody but a born fool'll know thereain't any shooting down here this time of year. "

Peter looked at him sorrowful. "Pop, " says he, "did you ever hear thatSolomon answered a summer hotel ad? This ain't a Chautauqua, this isthe Old Home House, and its motto is: 'There's a new victim born everyminute, and there's twenty-four hours in a day. ' You set back and countthe clock ticks. "

Well, that's 'bout all we had to do. We got boarders enough from thatridiculous advertisement to fill every spare room we had, includingJonadab's and mine. Me and the cap'n had to bunk in the barn loft; butthere was some satisfaction in that--it give us an excuse to get awayfrom the "sports" in the smoking room. 

The Todds was part of the haul. He was a little, dried-up man, single, and a minister. Nigh's I could find out, he'd given up preaching by therequest of the doctor and his last congregation. He had a notion that hewas a mighty hunter afore the Lord, like Nimrod in the Bible, and he'dcome to the Old Home to bag a few gross of geese and ducks. 

His sister was an old maid, and slim, neither of which failings was fromchoice, I cal'late. She wore eye-glasses and a veil to "preserve hercomplexion, " and her idee seemed to be that native Cape Codders lived intrees and ate cocoanuts. She called 'em "barbarians, utter barbarians. "Whenever she piped "James" her brother had to drop everything and reporton deck. She was skipper of the Todd craft. 

Them Todds was what Peter T. Called "the limit, and a chip or two over. "The other would-be gunners and fishermen were satisfied to slam shotafter sandpeeps, or hook a stray sculpin or a hake. But t'wa'n't sowith brother James Todd and sister Clarissa. "Ducks" it was in theadvertising, and nothing BUT ducks they wanted. Clarissa, she commencedto hint middling p'inted concerning fraud. 

Finally we lost patience, and Peter T. , he said they'd got to be quietedsomehow, or he'd do some shooting on his own hook; said too much Toddywas going to his head. Then I suggested taking 'em down thebeach somewheres on the chance of seeing a stray coot or loon orsomething--ANYTHING that could be shot at. Jonadab and Peter agreed'twas a good plan, and we matched to see who'd be guide. And I gotstuck, of course; my luck again. 

So the next morning we started, me and the Reverend James and Clarissain the Greased Lightning, Peter's new motor launch. First part of thetrip that Todd man done nothing but ask questions about the launch; Ihad to show him how to start it and steer it, and the land knows whatall. Clarissa set around doing the heavy contemptuous and turning up hernose at creation generally. It must have its drawbacks, this roosting sofur above the common flock; seems to me I'd be thinking all the time ofthe bump that was due me if I got shoved off the perch. 

Well, by and by Lonesome Huckleberries' shanty hove in sight, and Iwas glad to see it, although I had to answer a million questions aboutLonesome and his history. 

I told the Todds that, so fur as nationality was concerned he was alittle of everything, like a picked-up dinner; principally Eyetalian andPortugee, I cal'late, with a streak of Gay Head Injun. His real name'slong enough to touch bottom in the ship channel at high tide, so folksgot to calling him "Huckleberries" because he peddles them kind of fruitin summer. Then he mopes around so with nary a smile on his face, thatit seemed right to tack on the "Lonesome. " So "Lonesome Huckleberries"he's been for ten years. He lives in the patchwork shanty on the beachdown there, he is deaf and dumb, drives a liver-colored, balky mare thatno one but himself and his daughter Becky can handle, and he has a lovefor bad rum and a temper that's landed him in the Wellmouth lock-up morethan once or twice. He's one of the best gunners alongshore and atthis time he owned a flock of live decoys that he'd refused as high asfifteen dollars apiece for. I told all this and a lot more. 

When we struck the beach, Clarissa, she took her paint box and umbrellaand mosquito 'intment, and the rest of her cargo, and went off byherself to "sketch. " She was great on "sketching, " and the way she'd useup good paint and spile nice clean paper was a sinful waste. Afore shewent, she give me three fathom of sailing orders concerning taking careof "James. " You'd think he was about four year old; made me feel like ahired nurse. 

James and me went perusing up and down that beach in the blazing sunlooking for something to shoot. We went 'way beyond Lonesome's shanty, but there wa'n't nobody to home. Lonesome himself, it turned outafterward, was up to the village with his horse and wagon, and hisdaughter Becky was over in the wood on the mainland berrying. Todd wasa cheerful talker, but limited. His favorite remark was: "Oh, I say, mydeah man. " That's what he kept calling me, "my deah man. " Now, my nameain't exactly a Claude de Montmorency for prettiness, but "Barzilla" 'llfetch ME alongside a good deal quicker'n "my deah man, " I'll tell youthat. 

We frogged it up and down all the forenoon, but didn't git a shot atnothing but one stray "squawk" that had come over from the Cedar Swamp. I told James 'twas a canvasback, and he blazed away at it, but missed itby three fathom, as might have been expected. 

Finally, my game leg--rheumatiz, you understand--begun to give out. SoI flops down in the shade of a sand bank to rest, and the reverend goespoking off by himself. 

I cal'late I must have fell asleep, for when I looked at my watch it wasclose to one o'clock, and time for us to be getting back to port. Igot up and stretched and took an observation, but further'n Clarissa'sumbrella on the skyline, I didn't see anything stirring. Brother Jameswa'n't visible, but I jedged he was within hailing distance. You can'tsee very fur on that point, there's too many sand hills and hummocks. 

I started over toward the Greased Lightning. I'd gone only a littleways, and was down in a gully between two big hummocks, when "Bang!bang!" goes both barrels of a shotgun, and that Todd critter busts outhollering like all possessed. 

"Hooray!" he squeals, in that squeaky voice of his. "Hooray! I've got'em! I've got 'em!"

Thinks I, "What in the nation does the lunatic cal'late he's shot?" AndI left my own gun laying where 'twas and piled up over the edge of thatsand bank like a cat over a fence. And then I see a sight. 

There was James, hopping up and down in the beach grass, squealing likea Guinea hen with a sore throat, and waving his gun with one wing--arm, I mean--and there in front of him, in the foam at the edge of the surf, was two ducks as dead as Nebuchadnezzar--two of Lonesome Huckleberries'best decoy ducks--ducks he'd tamed and trained, and thought more ofthan anything else in this world--except rum, maybe--and the rest ofthe flock was digging up the beach for home as if they'd been telegrapedfor, and squawking "Fire!" and "Murder!"

Well, my mind was in a kind of various state, as you might say, for aminute. 'Course, I'd known about Lonesome's owning them decoys--toldTodd about 'em, too--but I hadn't seen 'em nowhere alongshore, and Isort of cal'lated they was locked up in Lonesome's hen house, that beinghis usual way when he went to town. I s'pose likely they'd been feedingamong the beach grass somewheres out of sight, but I don't know forsartin to this day. And I didn't stop to reason it out then, neither. AsScriptur' or George Washin'ton or somebody says, "'twas a condition, nota theory, " I was afoul of. 

"I've got 'em!" hollers Todd, grinning till I thought he'd swaller hisown ears. "I shot 'em all myself!"

"You everlasting--" I begun, but I didn't get any further. There was arattling noise behind me, and I turned, to see Lonesome Huckleberrieshimself, setting on the seat of his old truck wagon and glaring over thehammer head of that balky mare of his straight at brother Todd and thedead decoys. 

For a minute there was a kind of tableau, like them they have at churchfairs--all four of us, including the mare, keeping still, like we wasfrozen. But 'twas only for a minute. Then it turned into the liveliestmoving picture that ever _I_ see. Lonesome couldn't swear--being adummy--but if ever a man got profane with his eyes, he did right then. Next thing I knew he tossed both hands into the air, clawed two handfulsout of the atmosphere, reached down into the cart, grabbed a pitch-forkand piled out of that wagon and after Todd. There was murder coming andI could see it. 

"Run, you loon!" I hollers, desperate. 

James didn't wait for any advice. He didn't know what he'd done, Ical'late, but he jedged 'twas his move. He dropped his gun and put downthe shore like a wild man, with Lonesome after him. I tried to foller, but my rheumatiz was too big a handicap; all I could do was yell. 

You never'd have picked out Todd for a sprinter--not to look at him, youwouldn't--but if he didn't beat the record for his class just then I'lleat my sou'wester. He fairly flew, but Lonesome split tacks with himevery time, and kept to wind'ard, into the bargain. When they went outof sight amongst the sand hills 'twas anybody's race. 

I was scart. I knew what Lonesome's temper was, 'specially when it hadbeen iled with some Wellmouth Port no-license liquor. He'd been took uponce for half killing some boys that tormented him, and I figgered ifhe got within pitchfork distance of the Todd critter he'd make him theleakiest divine that ever picked a text. I commenced to hobble backafter my gun. It looked bad to me. 

But I'd forgot sister Clarissa. 'Fore I'd limped fur I heard her callingto me. 

"Mr. Wingate, " says she, "get in here at once. "

There she was, setting on the seat of Lonesome's wagon, holdin' thereins and as cool as a white frost in October. 

"Get in at once, " says she. I jedged 'twas good advice, and took it. 

"Proceed, " says she to the mare. "Git dap!" says I, and we started. Whenwe rounded the sand hill we see the race in the distance. Lonesome hadgained a p'int or two, and Todd wa'n't more'n four pitchforks in thelead. 

"Make for the launch!" I whooped, between my hands. 

The parson heard me and come about and broke for the shore. The GreasedLightning had swung out about the length of her anchor rope, and thewater wa'n't deep. Todd splashed in to his waist and climbed aboard. Hecut the roding just as Lonesome reached tide mark. James, he sees it's aclose call, and he shins back to the engine, reaching it exactly at thetime when the gent with the pitchfork laid hands on the rail. Then theparson throws over the switch--I'd shown him how, you remember--andgives the starting wheel a full turn. 

Well, you know the Greased Lightning? She don't linger to say farewell, not any to speak of, she don't. And this time she jumped like the catthat lit on the hot stove. Lonesome, being balanced with his knees onthe rail, pitches headfust into the cockpit. Todd, jumping out of hisway, falls overboard backward. Next thing anybody knew, the launch wasscooting for blue water like a streak of what she was named for, and thehunting chaplain was churning up foam like a mill wheel. 

I yelled more orders than second mate on a coaster. Todd bubbled andbellered. Lonesome hung on to the rail of the cockpit and let his hairstand up to grow. Nobody was cool but Clarissa, and she was an iceberg. She had her good p'ints, that old maid did, drat her!

"James, " she calls, "get out of that water this minute and come here!This instant, mind!"

James minded. He paddled ashore and hopped, dripping like a dishcloth, alongside the truck wagon. 

"Get in!" orders Skipper Clarissa. He done it. "Now, " says the lady, passing the reins over to me, "drive us home, Mr. Wingate, before thatintoxicated lunatic can catch us. "

It seemed about the only thing to do. I knew 'twas no use explainingto Lonesome for an hour or more yet, even if you can talk finger signs, which part of my college training has been neglected. 'Twas murder hewanted at the present time. I had some sort of a foggy notion that I'ddrive along, pick up the guns and then get the Todds over to thehotel, afterward coming back to get the launch and pay damages toHuckleberries. I cal'lated he'd be more reasonable by that time. 

But the mare had made other arrangements. When I slapped her with theend of the reins she took the bit in her teeth and commenced to gallop. I hollered "Whoa!" and "Heave to!" and "Belay!" and everything else Icould think of, but she never took in a reef. We bumped over hummocksand ridges, and every time we done it we spilled something out ofthat wagon. First 'twas a lot of huckleberry pails, then a basket ofgroceries and such, then a tin pan with some potatoes in it, then a jugdone up in a blanket. We was heaving cargo overboard like a leaky shipin a typhoon. Out of the tail of my eye I see Lonesome, well out to sea, heading the Greased Lightning for the beach. 

Clarissa put in the time soothing James, who had a serious case of thescart-to-deaths, and calling me an "utter barbarian" for driving sofast. Lucky for all hands, she had to hold on tight to keep from beingjounced out, 'long with the rest of movables, so she couldn't takethe reins. As for me, I wa'n't paying much attention to her--'twas theCut-Through that was disturbing MY mind. 

When you drive down to Lonesome P'int you have to ford the"Cut-Through. " It's a strip of water between the bay and the ocean, and'tain't very wide nor deep at low tide. But the tide was coming in now, and, more'n that, the mare wa'n't headed for the ford. She was cuttin'cross-lots on her own hook, and wouldn't answer the helm. 

We struck that Cut-Through about a hundred yards east of the ford, andin two shakes we was hub deep in salt water. 'Fore the Todds coulddo anything but holler the wagon was afloat and the mare was all butswimming. But she kept right on. Bless her, you COULDN'T stop her!

We crossed the first channel and come out on a flat where 'twasn'tmore'n two foot deep then. I commenced to feel better. There was anotherchannel ahead of us, but I figured we'd navigate that same as we had thefirst one. And then the most outrageous thing happened. 

If you'll b'lieve it, that pesky mare balked and wouldn't stir anotherstep. 

And there we was! I punched and kicked and hollered, but all thatstubborn horse would do was lay her ears back flat, and snarl up herlip, and look round at us, much as to say: "Now, then, you land sharks, I've got you between wind and water!" And I swan to man if it didn'tlook as if she had!

"Drive on!" says Clarissa, pretty average vinegary. "Haven't you madetrouble enough for us already, you dreadful man? Drive on!"

Hadn't _I_ made trouble enough! What do you think of that?

"You want to drown us!" says Miss Todd, continuing her chatty remarks. "I see it all! It's a plot between you and that murderer. I give youwarning; if we reach the hotel, my brother and I will commence suit fordamages. "

My temper's fairly long-suffering, but 'twas raveling some by this time. 

"Commence suit!" I says. "I don't care WHAT you commence, if you'llcommence to keep quiet now!" And then I give her a few p'ints as to whather brother had done, heaving in some personal flatteries every once ina while for good measure. 

I'd about got to thirdly when James give a screech and p'inted. And, if there wa'n't Lonesome in the launch, headed right for us, and cominga-b'iling! He'd run her along abreast of the beach and turned in at theupper end of the Cut-Through. 

You never in your life heard such a row as there was in that wagon. Clarissa and me yelling to Lonesome to keep off--forgitting that hewas stone deef and dumb--and James vowing that he was going to beslaughtered in cold blood. And the Greased Lightning p'inted just soshe'd split that cart amidships, and coming--well, you know how she cango. 

She never budged until she was within ten foot of the flat, and then shesheered off and went past in a wide curve, with Lonesome steering withone hand and shaking his pitchfork at Todd with t'other. And SUCH facesas he made-up! They'd have got him hung in any court in the world. 

He run up the Cut-Through a little ways, and then come about, and backhe comes again, never slacking speed a mite, and running close to theshoal as he could shave, and all the time going through the bloodiestkind of pantomimes. And past he goes, to wheel 'round and commence allover again. 

Thinks I, "Why don't he ease up and lay us aboard? He's got all theweapons there is. Is he scart?"

And then it come to me--the reason why. HE DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO STOP HER. He could steer first rate, being used to sailboats, but an electric autolaunch was a new ideal for him, and he didn't understand her works. Andhe dastn't run her aground at the speed she was making; 'twould havefinished her and, more'n likely, him, too. 

I don't s'pose there ever was another mess just like it afore or sence. Here was us, stranded with a horse we couldn't make go, being chased bya feller who was run away with in a boat he couldn't stop!

Just as I'd about give up hope, I heard somebody calling from the beachbehind us. I turned, and there was Becky Huckleberries, Lonesome'sdaughter. She had the dead decoys by the legs in one hand. 

"Hi!" says she. 

"Hi!" says I. "How do you get this giraffe of yours under way?"

She held up the decoys. 

"Who kill-a dem ducks?" says she. 

I p'inted to the reverend. "He did, " says I. And then I cal'late I musthave had one of them things they call an inspiration. "And he's willingto pay for 'em, " I says. 

"Pay thirty-five dolla?" says she. 

"You bet!" says I. 

But I'd forgot Clarissa. She rose up in that waterlogged cart like aStatue of Liberty. "Never!" says she. "We will never submit to suchextortion. We'll drown first!"

Becky heard her. She didn't look disapp'inted nor nothing. Just turnedand begun to walk up the beach. "ALL right, " says she; "GOO'-by. "

The Todds stood it for a jiffy. Then James give in. "I'll pay it!" hehollers. "I'll pay it!"

Even then Becky didn't smile. She just come about again and walked backto the shore. Then she took up that tin pan and one of the potaters we'djounced out of the cart. 

"Hi, Rosa!" she hollers. That mare turned her head and looked. And, forthe first time sence she hove anchor on that flat, the critter unfurledher ears and histed 'em to the masthead. 

"Hi, Rosa!" says Becky again, and begun to pound the pan with thepotater. And I give you my word that that mare started up, turned thewagon around nice as could be, and begun to swim ashore. When we gotwhere the critter's legs touched bottom, Becky remarks: "Whoa!"

"Here!" I yells, "what did you do that for?"

"Pay thirty-five dolla NOW, " says she. She was bus'ness, that girl. 

Todd got his wallet from under hatches and counted out the thirty-five, keeping one eye on Lonesome, who was swooping up and down in the launchlooking as if he wanted to cut in, but dasn't. I tied the bills tomy jack-knife, to give 'em weight, and tossed the whole thing ashore. Becky, she counted the cash and stowed it away in her apron pocket. 

"ALL right, " says she. "Hi, Rosa!" The potater and pan performance begunagain, and Rosa picked up her hoofs and dragged us to dry land. And itsartinly felt good to the feet. 

"Say, " I says, "Becky, it's none of my affairs, as I know of, but isthat the way you usually start that horse of yours?"

She said it was. And Rosa ate the potater. 

Becky asked me how to stop the launch, and I told her. She made a lotof finger signs to Lonesome, and inside of five minutes the GreasedLightning was anchored in front of us. Old man Huckleberries was stillhankering to interview Todd with the pitchfork, but Becky settled thatall right. She jumped in front of him, and her eyes snapped and her feetstamped and her fingers flew. And 'twould have done you good to see herdad shrivel up and get humble. I always had thought that a woman wasn'tmuch good as a boss of the roost unless she could use her tongue, butBecky showed me my mistake. Well, it's live and l'arn. 

Then Miss Huckleberries turned to us and smiled. 

"ALL right, " says she; "GOO'-by. "

Them Todds took the train for the city next morning. I drove 'em to thedepot. James was kind of glum, but Clarissa talked for two. Her opinionof the Cape and Capers, 'specially me, was decided. The final blast wasjust as she was climbing the car steps. 

"Of all the barbarians, " says she; "utter, uncouth, murdering barbariansin--"

She stopped, thinking for a word, I s'pose. I didn't feel that I couldimprove on Becky Huckleberries conversation much, so I says:

"ALL right! GOO'-by!"

THE MARK ON THE DOOR

One nice moonlight evening me and Cap'n Jonadab and Peter T. , having, for a wonder, a little time to ourselves and free from boarders, wassetting on the starboard end of the piazza, smoking, when who shouldheave in sight but Cap'n Eri Hedge and Obed Nickerson. They'd comeover from Orham that day on some fish business and had drove down toWellmouth Port on purpose to put up at the Old Home for the night andshake hands with me and Jonadab. We was mighty glad to see 'em, now Itell you. 

They'd had supper up at the fish man's at the Centre, so after Peter T. Had gone in and fetched out a handful of cigars, we settled back for agood talk. They wanted to know how business was and we told 'em. Aftera spell somebody mentioned the Todds and I spun my yarn about the balkymare and the Greased Lightning. It tickled 'em most to death, especiallyObed. 

"Ho, ho!" says he. "That's funny, ain't it. Them power boats are greatthings, ain't they. I had an experience in one--or, rather, in two--aspell ago when I was living over to West Bayport. My doings was withgasoline though, not electricity. 'Twas something of an experience. Maybe you'd like to hear it. "

"'Way I come to be over there on the bay side of the Cape was like this. West Bayport, where my shanty and the big Davidson summer place and theSaunders' house was, used to be called Punkhassett--which is Injun for'The last place the Almighty made'--and if you've read the circulars ofthe land company that's booming Punkhassett this year, you'll rememberthat the principal attraction of them diggings is the 'magnificent waterprivileges. ' 'Twas the water privileges that had hooked me. Clams wasthick on the flats at low tide, and fish was middling plenty in the bay. I had two weirs set; one a deep-water weir, a half mile beyond the bar, and t'other just inside of it that I could drive out to at low water. Atwo-mile drive 'twas, too; the tide goes out a long ways over there. Ihad a powerboat--seven and a half power gasoline--that I kept anchoredback of my nighest-in weir in deep water, and a little skiff on shore torow off to her in. 

"The yarn begins one morning when I went down to the shore after clams. I'd noticed the signs then. They was stuck up right acrost the path: 'Notrespassing on these premises, ' and 'All persons are forbidden crossingthis property, under penalty of the law. ' But land! I'd used thatshort-cut ever sence I'd been in Bayport--which was more'n a year--andold man Davidson and me was good friends, so I cal'lated the signs wasintended for boys, and hove ahead without paying much attention to 'em. 'Course I knew that the old man--and, what was more important, theold lady--had gone abroad and that the son was expected down, but thatdidn't come to me at the time, neither. 

"I was heading for home about eight, with two big dreeners full ofclams, and had just climbed the bluff and swung over the fence into thepath, when somebody remarks: 'Here, you!' I jumped and turned round, andthere, beating across the field in my direction, was an exhibit which, it turned out later, was ticketed with the name of Alpheus VandergraffParker Davidson--'Allie' for short. 

"And Allie was a good deal of an exhibit, in his way. His togs were cutto fit his spars, and he carried 'em well--no wrinkles at the peak orsag along the boom. His figurehead was more'n average regular, and hishair was combed real nice--the part in the middle of it looked like ithad been laid out with a plumb-line. Also, he had on white shoes andglory hallelujah stockings. Altogether, he was alone with the price ofadmission, and what some folks, I s'pose, would have called a handsomeenough young feller. But I didn't like his eyes; they looked kind oftired, as if they'd seen 'bout all there was to see of some kinds oflife. Twenty-four year old eyes hadn't ought to look that way. 

"But I wasn't interested in eyes jest then. All I could look at wasteeth. There they was, a lovely set of 'em, in the mouth of the ugliestspecimen of a bow-legged bulldog that ever tried to hang itself at theend of a chain. Allie was holding t'other end of the chain with bothhands, and they were full, at that. The dog stood up on his hind legsand pawed the air with his front ones, and his tongue hung out anddripped. You could see he was yearning, just dying, to taste of amiddle-aged longshoreman by the name of Obed Nickerson. I stared atthe dog, and he stared at me. I don't know which of us was the mostinterested. 

"'Here, you!' says Allie again. 'What are you crossing this field for?'

"I heard him, but I was too busy counting teeth to pay much attention. 'You ought to feed that dog, ' I says, absent-minded like. 'He's hungry. '

"'Humph!' says he. 'Well, maybe he'll be fed in a minute. Did you seethose signs?'

"'Yes, ' says I; 'I saw 'em. They're real neat and pretty. '

"'Pretty!' He fairly choked, he was so mad. 'Why, you cheeky, long-legged jay, ' he says, 'I'll--What are you crossing this field for?'

"'So's to get to t'other side of it, I guess, ' says I. I was riling up abit myself. You see, when a feller's been mate of a schooner, like I'vebeen in my day, it don't come easy to be called names. It looked for aminute as if Allie was going to have a fit, but he choked it down. 

"'Look here!' he says. 'I know who you are. Just because the gov'nerhas been soft enough to let you countrymen walk all over him, it don'tfoller that I'm going to be. I'm boss here for this summer. My name's--'He told me his name, and how his dad had turned the place over to himfor the season, and a lot more. 'I put those signs up, ' he says, 'tokeep just such fellers as you are off my property. They mean that youain't to cross the field. Understand?'

"I understood. I was mad clean through, but I'm law-abiding, generallyspeaking. 'All right, ' I says, picking up my dreeners and starting forthe farther fence; 'I won't cross it again. '

"'You won't cross it now, ' says he. 'Go back where you come from. '

"That was a grain too much. I told him a few things. He didn't wait forthe benediction. 'Take him, Prince!' he says, dropping the chain. 

"Prince was willing. He fetched a kind of combination hurrah and growland let out for me full-tilt. I don't feed good fresh clams to dogs asa usual thing, but that mouth HAD to be filled. I waited till he wasalmost on me, and then I let drive with one of the dreeners. Prince anda couple of pecks of clams went up in the air like a busted bomb-shell, and I broke for the fence I'd started for. I hung on to the otherdreener, though, just out of principle. 

"But I had to let go of it, after all. The dog come out of the collisionlooking like a plate of scrambled eggs, and took after me harder'n ever, shedding shells and clam juice something scandalous. When he was rightat my heels I turned and fired the second dreener. And, by Judas, Imissed him!

"Well, principle's all right, but there's times when even the best ofus has to hedge. I simply couldn't reach the farther fence, so I madea quick jibe and put for the one behind me. And I couldn't make that, either. Prince was taking mouthfuls of my overalls for appetizers. Therewas a little pine-tree in the lot, and I give one jump and landed in themiddle of it. I went up the rest of the way like I'd forgot something, and then I clung onto the top of that tree and panted and swung roundin circles, while the dog hopped up and down on his hind legs and fairlysobbed with disapp'intment. 

"Allie was rolling on the grass. 'Oh, DEAR me!' says he, between spasms. 'That was the funniest thing I ever saw. '

"I'd seen lots funnier things myself, but 'twa'n't worth while to argue. Besides, I was busy hanging onto that tree. 'Twas an awful little pineand the bendiest one I ever climbed. Allie rolled around a while longer, and then he gets up and comes over. 

"'Well, Reuben, ' says he, lookin' up at me on the roost, 'you're a gooddeal handsomer up there than you are on the ground. I guess I'll let youstay there for a while as a lesson to you. Watch him, Prince. ' And offhe walks. 

"'You everlasting clothes-pole, ' I yells after him, 'if it wa'n't forthat dog of yours I'd--'

"He turns around kind of lazy and says he: 'Oh, you've got no kickcoming, ' he says. 'I allow you to--er--ornament my tree, and 'tain'tevery hayseed I'd let do that. '

"And away he goes; and for an hour that had no less'n sixty thousandminutes in it I clung to that tree like a green apple, with Princesetting open-mouthed underneath waiting for me to get ripe and drop. 

"Just as I was figgering that I was growing fast to the limb, I heardsomebody calling my name. I unglued my eyes from the dog and looked up, and there, looking over the fence that I'd tried so hard to reach, wasBarbara Saunders, Cap'n Eben Saunders' girl, who lived in the house nextdoor to mine. 

"Barbara was always a pretty girl, and that morning she looked prettierthan ever, with her black hair blowing every which way and her blackeyes snapping full of laugh. Barbara Saunders in a white shirt-waistand an old, mended skirt could give ten lengths in a beauty race to anycraft in silks and satins that ever _I_ see, and beat 'em hull down atthat. 

"'Why, Mr. Nickerson!' she calls. 'What are you doing up in that tree?'

"That was kind of a puzzler to answer offhand, and I don't know what I'dhave said if friend Allie hadn't hove in sight just then and saved methe trouble. He come strolling out of the woods with a cigarette in hismouth, and when he saw Barbara he stopped short and looked and lookedat her. And for a minute she looked at him, and the red come up in hercheeks like a sunrise. 

"'Beg pardon, I'm sure, ' says Allie, tossing away the cigarette. 'May Iask if that--er--deep-sea gentleman in my tree is a friend of yours?'

"Barbara kind of laughed and dropped her eyes, and said why, yes, I was. 

"'By Jove! he's luckier than I thought, ' says Allie, never taking hiseyes from her face. 'And what do they call him, please, when they wanthim to answer?' That's what he asked, though, mind you, he'd said heknew who I was when he first saw me. 

"'It's Mr. Nickerson, ' says Barbara. 'He lives in that house there. Theone this side of ours. '

"'Oh, a neighbor! That's different. Awfully sorry, I'm sure. Prince, come here. Er--Nickerson, for the lady's sake we'll call it off. Youmay--er--vacate the perch. '

"I waited till he'd got a clove-hitch onto Prince. He had to give himone or two welts over the head 'fore he could do it; the dog acted likehe'd been cheated. Then I pried myself loose from that blessed limband shinned down to solid ground. My! but I was b'iling inside. 'Taint pleasant to be made a show afore folks, but 'twas the feller'scondescending what-excuse-you-got-for-living manners that riled me most. 

"I picked up what was left of the dreeners and walked over to the fence. That field was just sowed, as you might say, with clams. If they eversprouted 'twould make a tip-top codfish pasture. 

"'You see, ' says Allie, talking to Barbara; 'the gov'nor told me he'dbeen plagued with trespassers, so I thought I'd give 'em a lesson. Butneighbors, when they're scarce as ours are, ought to be friends. Don'tyou think so, Miss--? Er--Nickerson, ' says he, 'introduce me to ourother neighbor. '

"So I had to do it, though I didn't want to. He turned loose some softsoap about not realizing afore what a beautiful place the Cape was. Ithought 'twas time to go. 

"'But Miss Saunders hasn't answered my question yet, ' says Allie. 'Don'tYOU think neighbors ought to be friends, Miss Saunders?'

"Barbara blushed and laughed and said she guessed they had. Then shewalked away. I started to follow, but Allie stopped me. 

"'Look here, Nickerson, ' says he. 'I let you off this time, but don'ttry it again; do you hear?'

"'I hear, ' says I. 'You and that hyena of yours have had all the funthis morning. Some day, maybe, the boot'll be on t'other leg. '

"Barbara was waiting for me. We walked on together without speaking fora minute. Then I says, to myself like: 'So that's old man Davidson'sson, is it? Well, he's the prize peach in the crate, he is!'

"Barbara was thinking, too. 'He's very nice looking, isn't he?' saysshe. 'Twas what you'd expect a girl to say, but I hated to hear her sayit. I went home and marked a big chalk-mark on the inside of my shantydoor, signifying that I had a debt so pay some time or other. 

"So that's how I got acquainted with Allie V. P. Davidson. And, what'sfull as important, that's how he got acquainted with Barbara Saunders. 

"Shutting an innocent canary-bird up in the same room with a healthy catis a more or less risky proposition for the bird. Same way, if you takea pretty country girl who's been to sea with her dad most of the timeand tied to the apron-strings of a deef old aunt in a house threemiles from nowhere--you take that girl, I say, and then fetch along, as next-door neighbor, a good-looking young shark like Allie, with ahogshead of money and a blame sight too much experience, and that's arisky proposition for the girl. 

"Allie played his cards well; he'd set into a good many similar gamesafore, I judge. He begun by doing little favors for Phoebe Ann--she wasthe deef aunt I mentioned--and 'twa'n't long afore he was as solidwith the old lady as a kedge-anchor. He had a way of dropping intothe Saunders house for a drink of water or a slab of 'that deliciousapple-pie, ' and with every drop he got better acquainted with Barbara. Cap'n Eben was on a v'yage to Buenos Ayres and wouldn't be home tillfall, 'twa'n't likely. 

"I didn't see a great deal of what was going on, being too busy with myfishweirs and clamming to notice. Allie and me wa'n't exactly David andJonathan, owing, I judge, to our informal introduction to each other. But I used to see him scooting 'round in his launch--twenty-five foot, she was, with a little mahogany cabin and the land knows what--andthe servants at the big house told me yarns about his owning a bigsteam-yacht, with a sailing-master and crew, which was cruising roundNewport somewheres. 

"But, busy as I was, I see enough to make me worried. There was a gooddeal of whispering over the Saunders back gate after supper, and once, when I come up over the bluff from the shore sudden, they was sittingtogether on a rock and he had his arm round her waist. I dropped a hintto Phoebe Ann, but she shut me up quicker'n a snap-hinge match-box. Allie had charmed 'auntie' all right. And so it drifted along tillSeptember. 

"One Monday evening about the middle of the month I went over to PhoebeAnn's to borrow some matches. Barbara wasn't in--gone out to lock upthe hens, or some such fool excuse. But Phoebe was busting full of joy. Cap'n Eben had arrived in New York a good deal sooner'n was expected andwould be home on Thursday morning. 

"'He's going from Boston to Provincetown on the steamer, Wednesday, 'says Phoebe. 'He's got some business over there. Then he's coming homefrom Provincetown on the early train. Ain't that splendid?'

"I thought 'twas splendid for more reasons than one, and I went outfeeling good. But as I come round the corner of the house there wassomebody by the back gate, and I heard a girl's voice sayin': 'Oh, no, no! I can't! I can't!'

"If I hadn't trod on a stick maybe I'd have heard more, but the racketbroke up the party. Barbara come hurrying past me into the house, andby the light from the back door, I see her face. 'Twas white as aclam-shell, and she looked frightened to death. 

"Thinks I: 'That's funny! It's a providence Eben's coming home so soon. '

"And the next day I saw her again, and she was just as white andwouldn't look me in the eye. Wednesday, though, I felt better, for theservants on the Davidson place told me that Allie had gone to Boston onthe morning train to be gone for good, and that they was going to shutup the house and haul up the launch in a day or so. 

"Early that afternoon, as I was coming from my shanty to the bluff onmy way to the shore after dinner, I noticed a steam-yacht at anchor twomile or so off the bar. She must have come there sence I got in, and Iwondered whose she was. Then I see a dingey with three men aboard rowingin, and I walked down the beach to meet 'em. 

"Sometimes I think there is such things as what old Parson Danvers usedto call 'dispensations. ' This was one of 'em. There was a feller ina uniform cap steering the dingey, and, b'lieve it or not, I'll beeverlastingly keelhauled if he didn't turn out to be Ben Henry, who wassecond mate with me on the old Seafoam. He was surprised enough to seeme, and glad, too, but he looked sort of worried. 

"'Well, Ben, ' says I, after we had shook hands, 'well, Ben, ' I says, 'myshanty ain't exactly the United States Hotel for gilt paint and bill offare, but I HAVE got eight or ten gallons of home-made cherry rum andsome terbacker and an extry pipe. You fall into my wake. '

"'I'd like to, Obed, ' he says; 'I'd like to almighty well, but I've gotto go up to the store, if there is such a thing in this metropolus, andbuy some stuff that I forgot to get in Newport. You see, we got ordersto sail in a tearing hurry, and--'

"'Send one of them fo'mast hands to the store, ' says I. 'You got to comewith me. '

"He hemmed and hawed a while, but he was dry, and I shook the cherry-rumjug at him, figuratively speaking, so finally he give in. 

"'You buy so and so, ' says he to his men, passing 'em a ten-dollarbill. 'And mind, you don't know nothing. If anybody asks, remember thatyacht's the Mermaid--M-U-R-M-A-D-E, ' he says, 'and she belongs to Mr. Jones, of Mobile, Georgia. '

"So the men went away, and me and Ben headed for my shanty, where wemoored abreast of each other at the table, with a jug between us for abuoy, so's to speak. We talked old times and spun yarns, and the tidewent out in the jug consider'ble sight faster than 'twas ebbing on theflats. After a spell I asked him about the man that owned the yacht. 

"'Who? Oh--er--Brown?' he says. 'Why, he's--'

"'Brown?' says I. 'Thought you said 'twas Jones?'

"Well, that kind of upset him, and he took some cherry-rum to grease hismemory. Then I asked more questions and he tried to answer 'em, and gotworse tangled than ever. Finally I had to laugh. 

"'Look here, Ben, ' says I. 'You can't fetch port on that tack. Thetruth's ten mile astern of you. Who does own that yacht, anyway?'

"He looked at me mighty solemn--cherry-rum solemn. 'Obed, ' he says, 'you're a good feller. Don't you give me away, now, or I'll lose myberth. The man that owns that yacht's named Davidson, and he's got asummer place right in this town. '

"'Davidson!' says I. 'DAVIDSON? Not young Allie Davidson?'

"'That's him, ' says he. 'And he's the blankety blankest meanest low-downcub on earth. There! I feel some better. Give me another drink to takethe taste of him out of my mouth. '

"'But young Davidson's gone to Boston, ' I says. 'Went this morning. '

"'That be hanged!' says Ben. 'All I know is that I got a despatch fromhim at Newport on Monday afternoon, telling me to have the yacht abreastthis town at twelve o'clock to-night, 'cause he was coming off to herthen in his launch with a friend. Friend!' And he laughed and winked hisstarboard eye. 

"I didn't say much, being too busy thinking, but Ben went on tellingabout other cruises with 'friends. ' Oh, a steam-yacht can be afirst-class imitation of hell if the right imp owns her. Henry gotspeaking of one time down along the Maine coast. 

"'But, ' says I, referring to what he was telling, 'if she was such anice girl and come from such nice folks, how--'

"'How do I know?' says he. 'Promises to marry and such kind of lies, Is'pose. And the plain fact is that he's really engaged to marry a swellgirl in Newport. '

"He told me her name and a lot more about her. I tried to remember themost of it, but my head was whirling--and not from cherry rum, either. All I could think was: 'Obed, it's up to you! You've got to dosomething. '

"I was mighty glad when the sailors hailed from the shore and Ben had togo. He 'most cried when he said good-by, and went away stepping high andbringing his heels down hard. I watched the dingey row off--the tidewas out, so there was barely water for her to get clear--and then I wentback home to think. And I thought all the afternoon. 

"Two and two made four, anyway I could add it up, but 'twas allsuspicion and no real proof, that was the dickens of it. I couldn'tspeak to Phoebe Ann; she wouldn't b'lieve me if I did. I couldn'ttelegraph Cap'n Eben at Provincetown to come home that night; I'd haveto tell him the whole thing and I knew his temper, so, for Barbara'ssake, 'twouldn't do. I couldn't be at the shore to stop the launchleaving. What right had I to stop another man's launch, even--

"No, 'twas up to me, and I thought and thought till after supper-time. And then I had a plan--a risky chance, but a chance, just the same. Iwent up to the store and bought four feet of medium-size rubber hose andsome rubber tape, same as they sell to bicycle fellers in the summer. 'Twas almost dark when I got back in sight of my shanty, and instead ofgoing to it I jumped that board fence that me and Prince had negotiatedfor, hustled along the path past the notice boards, and went down thebluff on t'other side of Davidson's p'int. And there in the deep holeby the end of the little pier, out of sight of the house on shore, wasAllie's launch. By what little light there was left I could see thebrass rails shining. 

"But I didn't stop to admire 'em. I give one look around. Nobody wasin sight. Then I ran down the pier and jumped aboard. Almost the firstthing I put my hand on was what I was looking for--the bilge-pump. 'Twasa small affair, that you could lug around in one hand, but mighty handyfor keeping a boat of that kind dry. 

"I fitted one end of my hose to the lower end of that pump and wrappedrubber tape around the j'int till she sucked when I tried her over theside. Then I turned on the cocks in the gasoline pipes fore and aft, andnoticed that the carbureter feed cup was chock full. Then I was readyfor business. 

"I went for'ard, climbing over the little low cabin that was just bigenough for a man to crawl into, till I reached the brass cap in the deckover the gasoline-tank. Then I unscrewed the cap, run my hose down intothe tank, and commenced to pump good fourteen-cents-a-gallon gasolineoverboard to beat the cars. 'Twas a thirty-gallon tank, and full up. Ibegun to think I'd never get her empty, but I did, finally. I pumpedher dry. Then I screwed the cap on again and went home, taking Allie'sbilge-pump with me, for I couldn't stop to unship the hose. The tide wascoming in fast. 

"At nine o'clock that night I was in my skiff, rowing off to where mypower-boat laid in deep water back of the bar. When I reached her I madethe skiff fast astern, lit a lantern, which I put in a locker under athwart, and set still in the pitch-dark, smoking and waiting. 

"'Twas a long, wearisome wait. There was a no'thwest wind coming up, andthe waves were running pretty choppy on the bar. All I could think ofwas that gasoline. Was there enough in the pipes and the feed cup onthat launch to carry her out to where I was? Or was there too much, andwould she make the yacht, after all?

"It got to be eleven o'clock. Tide was full at twelve. I was a prettygood candidate for the crazy house by this time. I'd listened till myear-drums felt slack, like they needed reefing. And then at last I heardher coming--CHUFF-chuff! CHUFF-chuff! CHUFF-chuff!

"And HOW she did come! She walked up abreast of me, went past me, ahundred yards or so off. Thinks I: 'It's all up. He's going to make it. '

"And then, all at once, the 'chuff-chuff-ing' stopped. Started upand stopped again. I gave a hurrah, in my mind, pulled the skiff upalongside and jumped into her, taking the lantern with me, under mycoat. Then I set the light between my feet, picked up the oars andstarted rowing. 

"I rowed quiet as I could, but he heard me 'fore I got to him. I hearda scrambling noise off ahead, and then a shaky voice hollers: 'Hello!who's that?'

"'It's me, ' says I, rowing harder'n ever. 'Who are you? What's the row?'

"There was more scrambling and a slam, like a door shutting. In anothertwo minutes I was alongside the launch and held up my lantern. Allie wasthere, fussing with his engine. And he was all alone. 

"Alone he was, I say, fur's a body could see, but he was mighty shakyand frightened. Also, 'side of him, on the cushions, was a girl'sjacket, and I thought I'd seen that jacket afore. 

"'Hello!' says I. 'Is that you, Mr. Davidson? Thought you'd gone toBoston?'

"'Changed my mind, ' he says. 'Got any gasoline?'

"'What you doing off here this time of night?' I says. 

"'Going out to my--' He stopped. I s'pose the truth choked him. 'I wasgoing to Provincetown, ' he went on. 'Got any gasoline?'

"'What in the nation you starting to Provincetown in the middle of thenight for?' I asks, innocent as could be. 

"'Oh, thunder! I had business there, that's all. GOT ANY GASOLINE?'

"I made my skiff's painter fast to a cleat on the launch and climbedaboard. 'Gasoline?' says I. 'Gasoline? Why, yes; I've got some gasolineover on my power-boat out yonder. Has yours give out? I shouldthink you'd filled your tank 'fore you left home on such a trip asProvincetown. Maybe the pipe's plugged or something. Have you looked?'And I caught hold of the handle of the cabin-door. 

"He jumped and grabbed me by the arm. ''Tain't plugged, ' he yells, sharp. 'The tank's empty, I tell you. '

"He kept pulling me away from the cabin, but I hung onto the handle. 

"'You can't be too sure, ' I says. 'This door's locked. Give me the key. '

"'I--I left the key at home, ' he says. 'Don't waste time. Go over toyour boat and fetch me some gasoline. I'll pay you well for it. '

"Then I was sartin of what I suspicioned. The cabin was locked, butnot with the key. THAT was in the keyhole. The door was bolted ON THEINSIDE. 

"'All right, ' says I. 'I'll sell you the gasoline, but you'll have togo with me in the skiff to get it. Get your anchor over or this craft'lldrift to Eastham. Hurry up. '

"He didn't like the idee of leaving the launch, but I wouldn't hear ofanything else. While he was heaving the anchor I commenced to talk tohim. 

"'I didn't know but what you'd started for foreign parts to meet thatNewport girl you're going to marry, ' I says, and I spoke good and loud. 

"He jumped so I thought he'd fall overboard. 

"'What's that?' he shouts. 

"'Why, that girl you're engaged to, ' says I. 'Miss--' and I yelled hername, and how she'd gone abroad with his folks, and all. 

"'Shut up!' he whispers, waving his hands, frantic. 'Don't stop to lie. Hurry up!'

"''Tain't a lie. Oh, I know about it!' I hollers, as if he was deef. Imeant to be heard--by him and anybody else that might be interested. I give a whole lot more partic'lars, too. He fairly shoved me into theskiff, after a spell. 

"'Now, ' he says, so mad he could hardly speak, 'stop your lying and row, will you!'

"I was willing to row then. I cal'lated I'd done some missionary workby this time. Allie's guns was spiked, if I knew Barbara Saunders. Ip'inted the skiff the way she'd ought to go and laid to the oars. 

"My plan had been to get him aboard the skiff and rowsomewheres--ashore, if I could. But 'twas otherwise laid out for me. Thewind was blowing pretty fresh, and the skiff was down by the stern, so'sthe waves kept knocking her nose round. 'Twas dark'n a pocket, too. Icouldn't tell where I WAS going. 

"Allie got more fidgety every minute. 'Ain't we 'most there?' he asks. And then he gives a screech. 'What's that ahead?'

"I turned to see, and as I done it the skiff's bow slid up on something. I give an awful yank at the port oar; she slewed and tilted; a wavecaught her underneath, and the next thing I knew me and Allie and theskiff was under water, bound for the bottom. We'd run acrost one of theguy-ropes of my fish-weir. 

"This wa'n't in the program. I hit sand with a bump and pawed up forair. When I got my head out I see a water-wheel doing business closealong-side of me. It was Allie. 

"'Help!' he howls. 'Help! I'm drowning!'

"I got him by the collar, took one stroke and bumped against theweir-nets. You know what a fish-weir's like, don't you, Mr. Brown?--akind of pound, made of nets hung on ropes between poles. 

"'Help!' yells Allie, clawing the nets. 'I can't swim in rough water!'

"You might have known he couldn't. It looked sort of dubious for ajiffy. Then I had an idee. I dragged him to the nighest weir-pole. 'Climb!' I hollers in his ear. 'Climb that pole. '

"He done it, somehow, digging his toes into the net and going up like acat up a tree. When he got to the top he hung acrost the rope and shook. 

"'Hang on there!' says I. 'I'm going after the boat. ' And I struck out. He yelled to me not to leave him, but the weir had give me my bearings, and I was bound for my power-boat. 'Twas a tough swim, but I made it, and climbed aboard, not feeling any too happy. Losing a good skiff wasmore'n I'd figgered on. 

"Soon's I got some breath I hauled anchor, started up my engine andheaded back for the weir. I run along-side of it, keeping a good lookoutfor guy-ropes, and when I got abreast of that particular pole I lookedfor Allie. He was setting on the rope, a-straddle of the pole, andhanging onto the top of it like it owed him money. He looked a good dealmore comfortable than I was when he and Prince had treed me. And theremembrance of that time come back to me, and one of them things theycall inspiration come with it. He was four feet above water, 'twas fulltide then, and if he set still he was safe as a church. 

"So instead of running in after him, I slowed 'way down and backed off. 

"'Come here!' he yells. 'Come here, you fool, and take me aboard. '

"'Oh, I don't know, ' says I. 'You're safe there, and, even if theyacht folks don't come hunting for you by and by--which I cal'late theywill--the tide'll be low enough in five hours or so, so's you can walkashore. '

"'What--what do you mean?' he says. 'Ain't you goin' to take me off?'

"'I was, ' says I, 'but I've changed my plans. And, Mr. AllieVander-what's-your-name Davidson, there's other things--low-down, meanthings--planned for this night that ain't going to come off, either. Understand that, do you?'

"He understood, I guess. He didn't answer at all. Only gurgled, likehe'd swallered something the wrong way. 

"Then the beautiful tit for tat of the whole business come to me, and Icouldn't help rubbing it in a little. 'As a sartin acquaintance of mineonce said to me, ' I says, 'you look a good deal handsomer up there thanyou do in a boat. '

"'You--you--etcetery and so forth, continued in our next!' says he, orwords to that effect. 

"'That's all right, ' says I, putting on the power. 'You've got no kickcoming. I allow you to--er--ornament my weir-pole, and 'tain't everydude I'd let do that. '

"And I went away and, as the Fifth Reader used to say, 'let him alone inhis glory. '

"I went back to the launch, pulled up her anchor and took her in tow. Itowed her in to her pier, made her fast and then left her for a while. When I come back the little cabin-door was open and the girl's jacketwas gone. 

"Then I walked up the path to the Saunders house and it done me good tosee a light in Barbara's window. I set on the steps of that house untilmorning keeping watch. And in the morning the yacht was gone and theweir-pole was vacant, and Cap'n Eben Saunders come on the first train. 

"So's that's all there is of it. Allie hasn't come back to Bayportsence, and the last I heard he'd married that Newport girl; she has mysympathy, if that's any comfort to her. 

"And Barbara? Well, for a long time she'd turn white every time I mether. But, of course, I kept my mouth shut, and she went to sea nextv'yage with her dad. And now I hear she's engaged to a nice feller up toBoston. 

"Oh, yes--one thing more. When I got back to my shanty that morning Iwiped the chalkmark off the door. I kind of figgered that I'd paid thatdebt, with back interest added. "

THE LOVE OF LOBELIA 'ANKINS

Obed's yarn being done, and friend Davidson done too, and brown at that, Peter T. Passed around another relay of cigars and we lit up. 'TwasCap'n Eri that spoke first. 

"Love's a queer disease, anyway, " says he. "Ain't it, now? 'Twouldpuzzle you and me to figger out what that Saunders girl see to like inthe Davidson critter. It must be a dreadful responsible thing to be sofascinating. I never felt that responsibleness but once--except when Igot married, of course--and that was a good many years ago, when I wasgoing to sea on long v'yages, and was cruising around the East Indies, in the latitude of our new troubles, the Philippines. 

"I put in about three months on one of them little coral islands offthat way once. Hottest corner in the Lord's creation, I cal'late, andthe laziest and sleepiest hole ever I struck. All a feller feels likedoing in them islands is just to lay on his back under a palm tree allday and eat custard-apples, and such truck. 

"Way I come to be there was like this: I was fo'mast hand on a Bostonhooker bound to Singapore after rice. The skipper's name was Perkins, Malachi C. Perkins, and he was the meanest man that ever wore asou'-wester. I've had the pleasure of telling him so sence--'twas inSurinam 'long in '72. Well, anyhow, Perkins fed us on spiled salt junkand wormy hard-tack all the way out, and if a feller dast to hint thatthe same wa'n't precisely what you'd call Parker House fare, why theskipper would knock him down with a marline-spike and the first matewould kick him up and down the deck. 'Twan't a pretty performance tolook at, but it beat the world for taking the craving for fancy cookingout of a man. 

"Well, when I got to Singapore I was nothing but skin and bone, andconsiderable of the skin had been knocked off by the marline-spike andthe mate's boots. I'd shipped for the v'yage out and back, but the firstnight in port I slipped over the side, swum ashore, and never set eyeson old Perkins again till that time in Surinam, years afterward. 

"I knocked round them Singapore docks for much as a month, hoping toget a berth on some other ship, but 'twan't no go. I fell in with aBritisher named Hammond, 'Ammond, he called it, and as he was on thesame hunt that I was, we kept each other comp'ny. We done odd jobs now'n' again, and slept in sailors' lodging houses when we had the price, and under bridges or on hemp bales when we hadn't. I was too proud towrite home for money, and Hammond didn't have no home to write to, Ical'late. 

"But luck 'll turn if you give it time enough. One night Hammond comehurrying round to my sleeping-room--that is to say, my hemp bale--andgives me a shake, and says he:

"'Turn out, you mud 'ead, I've got you a berth. '

"'Aw, go west!' says I, and turned over to go to sleep again. But hepulled me off the bale by the leg, and that woke me up so I sensed whathe was saying. Seems he'd found a feller that wanted to ship a couple offo'mast hands on a little trading schooner for a trip over to the JavaSea. 

"Well, to make a long story short, we shipped with this feller, whosename was Lazarus. I cal'late if the Lazarus in Scriptur' had been up toas many tricks and had come as nigh being a thief as our Lazarus was, he wouldn't have been so poor. Ourn was a shrewd rascal and nothing morenor less than a pearl poacher. He didn't tell us that till after we sotsail, but we was so desperate I don't know as 'twould have made muchdiff'rence if he had. 

"We cruised round for a spell, sort of prospecting, and then we landedat a little one-horse coral island, where there wa'n't no inhabitants, but where we was pretty dead sartin there was pearl oyster banks inthe lagoon. There was five of us on the schooner, a Dutchman namedRhinelander, a Coolie cook and Lazarus and Hammond and me. We put up aslab shanty on shore and went to work pearl fishing, keeping one eye outfor Dutch gunboats, and always having a sago palm ready to split openso's, if we got caught, we could say we was after sago. 

"Well, we done fairly good at the pearl fishing; got together quite alikely mess of pearls, and, as 'twas part of the agreement that the crewhad a certain share in the stake, why, Hammond and me was figgeringthat we was going to make enough to more'n pay us for our long spell ofstarving at Singapore. Lazarus was feeling purty middling chipper, thecook was feeding us high, and everything looked lovely. 

"Rhinelander and the Coolie and the skipper used to sleep aboard theboat, but Hammond and me liked to sleep ashore in the shanty. For onething, the bunks on the schooner wa'n't none too clean, and the Cooliesnored so that he'd shake the whole cabin, and start me dreamingabout cyclones, and cannons firing, and lions roaring, and all kind offoolishness. I always did hate a snorer. 

"One morning me and Hammond come out of the shanty, and, lo and beholdyou! there wa'n't no schooner to be seen. That everlasting Lazarus hadput up a job on us, and had sneaked off in the night with the cook andthe Dutchman, and took our share of the pearls with him. I s'pose he'dcal'lated to do it from the very first. Anyway, there we was, maroonedon that little two-for-a-cent island. 

"The first day we didn't do much but cuss Lazarus up hill and down dale. Hammond was the best at that kind of business ever I see. He inventedmore'n four hundred new kind of names for the gang on the schooner, andevery one of 'em was brimstone-blue. We had fish lines in the shanty, and there was plenty of water on the island, so we knew we wouldn'tstarve to death nor die of thirst, anyhow. 

"I've mentioned that 'twas hot in them parts? Well, that island was thehottest of 'em all. Whew! Don't talk! And, more'n that, the weather wasthe kind that makes you feel it's a barrel of work to live. First daywe fished and slept. Next day we fished less and slept more. Third day'twas too everlasting hot even to sleep, so we set round in the shadeand fought flies and jawed each other. Main trouble was who was goin' togit the meals. Land, how we did miss that Coolie cook!

"'W'y don't yer get to work and cook something fit to heat?' saysHammond. ''Ere I broke my bloomin' back 'auling in the fish, and youdoing nothing but 'anging around and letting 'em dry hup in the 'eat. Get to work and cook. Blimed if I ain't sick of these 'ere custardapples!'

"'Go and cook yourself, ' says I. 'I didn't sign articles to be cook forno Johnny Bull!'

"Well, we jawed back and forth for an hour, maybe more. Two or threetimes we got up to have it out, but 'twas too hot to fight, so we setdown again. Fin'lly we eat some supper, custard apples and water, andturned in. 

"But 'twas too hot to sleep much, and I got up about three o'clock inthe morning and went out and set down on the beach in the moonlight. Pretty soon out comes Hammond and sets down alongside and begins to givethe weather a general overhauling, callin' it everything he could laytongue to. Pretty soon he breaks off in the middle of a nine-j'intedswear word and sings out:

"'Am I goin' crazy, or is that a schooner?'

"I looked out into the moonlight, and there, sure enough, was aschooner, about a mile off the island, and coming dead on. First-offwe thought 'twas Lazarus coming back, but pretty soon we see 'twas aconsiderable smaller boat than his. 

"We forgot all about how hot it was and hustled out on the reef right atthe mouth of the lagoon. I had a coat on a stick, and I waved it for asignal, and Hammond set to work building a bonfire. He got a noble oneblazing and then him and me stood and watched the schooner. 

"She was acting dreadful queer. First she'd go ahead on one tack andthen give a heave over and come about with a bang, sails flapping andeverything of a shake; then she'd give another slat and go off anotherway; but mainly she kept right on toward the island. 

"'W'at's the matter aboard there?' says Hammond. 'Is hall 'ands drunk?'

"'She's abandoned, ' says I. 'That's what's the matter. There ain'tNOBODY aboard of her. '

"Then we both says, 'Salvage!' and shook hands. 

"The schooner came nearer and nearer. It begun to look as if she'd smashagainst the rocks in front of us, but she didn't. When she got oppositethe mouth of the lagoon she heeled over on a new tack and sailed inbetween the rocks as pretty as anything ever you see. Then she runaground on the beach just about a quarter of a mile from the shanty. 

"'Twas early morning when we climbed aboard of her. I thought Lazarus'schooner was dirty, but this one was nothing BUT dirt. Dirty sails, allpatches, dirty deck, dirty everything. 

"'Won't get much salvage on this bally tub, ' says Hammond; 'she's one ofthem nigger fish boats, that's w'at she is. '

"I was kind of skittish about going below, 'fraid there might be somedead folks, but Hammond went. In a minute or so up he comes, lookingscary. 

"'There's something mighty queer down there, ' says he: 'kind of w'eezinglike a puffing pig. '

"'Wheezing your grandmother!' says I, but I went and listened at thehatch. 'Twas a funny noise I heard, but I knew what it was in a minute;I'd heard too much of it lately to forget it, right away. 

"'It's snoring, ' says I; 'somebody snoring. '

"''Eavens!' says Hammond, 'you don't s'pose it's that 'ere Coolie comeback?'

"'No, no!' says I. 'Where's your common sense? The cook snored bass;this critter's snoring suppraner, and mighty poor suppraner at that. '

"'Well, ' says he, ''ere goes to wake 'im hup!' And he commenced toholler, 'Ahoy!' and 'Belay, there!' down the hatch. 

"First thing we heard was a kind of thump like somebody jumping out erbed. Then footsteps, running like; then up the hatchway comes a sight Ishan't forget if I live to be a hundred. 

"'Twas a woman, middling old, with a yeller face all wrinkles, and achin and nose like Punch. She was dressed in a gaudy old calico gown, and had earrings in her ears. She give one look round at the schoonerand the island. Then she see us and let out a whoop like a steamwhistle. 

"'Mulligatawny Sacremento merlasess!' she yells. 'Course that wa'n'twhat she said, but that's what it sounded like. Then, 'fore Hammondcould stop her, she run for him and give him a rousing big hug. He wasthe most surprised man ever you see, stood there like a wooden image. Icommenced to laff, but the next minute the woman come for me and huggedme, too. 

"''Fectionate old gal, ' says Hammond, grinning. 

"The critter in the calirco gown was going through the craziestpantomime ever was; p'intin' off to sea and then down to deck and thenup to the sails. I didn't catch on for a minute, but Hammond did. Sayshe:

"'Showing us w'ere this 'ere palatial yacht come from. 'Ad a roughpassage, it looks like!'

"Then the old gal commenced to get excited. She p'inted over the sideand made motions like rowing. Then she p'inted down the hatch and shuther eyes and purtended to snore. After that she rowed again, all thetime getting madder and madder, with her little black eyes a-snappinglike fire coals and stomping her feet and shaking her fists. Fin'lly shefinished up with a regular howl, you might say, of rage. 

"'The crew took to the boat and left 'er asleep below, ' says Hammond. ''Oly scissors: they're in for a lively time if old Nutcrackers 'ereever catches 'em, 'ey?'

"Well, we went over the schooner and examined everything, but therewa'n't nothing of any value nowheres. 'Twas a reg'lar nigger fishingboat, with dirt and cockroaches by the pailful. At last we went ashoreagin and up to the shanty, taking the old woman with us. After eatingsome more of them tiresome custard apples for breakfast, Hammond and mewent down to look over the schooner agin. We found she'd started a plankrunning aground on the beach, and that 'twould take us a week to get herafloat and watertight. 

"While we was doing this the woman come down and went aboard. Prettysoon we see her going back to the shanty with her arms full of bundlesand truck. We didn't think anything of it then, but when we got homeat noon, there was the best dinner ever you see all ready for us. Friedfish, and some kind of beans cooked up with peppers, and tea--real storetea--and a lot more things. Land, how we did eat! We kept smacking ourlips and rubbing our vests to show we was enjoying everything, and theold gal kept bobbing her head and grinning like one of them dummies youwind up with a key. 

"'Well, ' says Hammond, 'we've got a cook at last. Ain't we, old--old--Blimed if we've got a name for 'er yet! Here!' says he, pointing to me. 'Looky here, missis! 'Edge! 'Edge! that's 'im! 'Ammond!'Ammond! that's me. Now, 'oo are YOU?'

"She rattled off a name that had more double j'ints in it than an eel. 

"'Lordy!' says I; 'we never can larn that rigamarole. I tell you! Shelooks for all the world like old A'nt Lobelia Fosdick at home down onCape Cod. Let's call her that. '

"'She looks to me like the mother of a oysterman I used to know inLiverpool. 'Is name was 'Ankins. Let's split the difference and call 'erLobelia 'Ankins. '

"So we done it. 

"Well, Hammond and me pounded and patched away at the schooner for thenext three or four days, taking plenty of time off to sleep in, 'countof the heat, but getting along fairly well. 

"Lobelia 'Ankins cooked and washed dishes for us. She done some noblecooking, 'specially as we wa'n't partic'lar, but we could see she had atemper to beat the Old Scratch. If anything got burned, or if the kittleupset, she'd howl and stomp and scatter things worse than a cyclone. 

"I reckon 'twas about the third day that I noticed she was getting sweeton Hammond. She was giving him the best of all the vittles, and usedto set at the table and look at him, softer'n and sweeter'n a bucket ofmolasses. Used to walk 'longside of him, too, and look up in his faceand smile. I could see that he noticed it and that it was worrying him aheap. One day he says to me:

"''Edge, ' says he, 'I b'lieve that 'ere chromo of a Lobelia 'Ankins isgetting soft on me. '

"''Course she is, ' says I; 'I see that a long spell ago. '

"'But what'll I DO?' says he. 'A woman like 'er is a desp'ratecharacter. If we hever git hashore she might be for lugging me to thechurch and marrying me by main force. '

"'Then you'll have to marry her, for all I see, ' says I. 'You shouldn'tbe so fascinating. '

"That made him mad and he went off jawing to himself. 

"The next day we got the schooner patched up and off the shoal and'longside Lazarus' old landing wharf by the shanty. There was a littlemore tinkering to be done 'fore she was ready for sea, and we cal'latedto do it that afternoon. 

"After dinner Hammond went down to the spring after some water andLobelia 'Ankins went along with him. I laid down in the shade for asnooze, but I hadn't much more than settled myself comfortably whenI heard a yell and somebody running. I jumped up just in time to seeHammond come busting through the bushes, lickety smash, with Lobeliaafter him, yelling like an Injun. Hammond wa'n't yelling; he was savinghis breath for running. 

"They wa'n't in sight more'n a minute, but went smashing and crashingthrough the woods into the distance. 'Twas too hot to run after 'em, soI waited a spell and then loafed off in a roundabout direction towardwhere I see 'em go. After I'd walked pretty nigh a mile I heard Hammondwhistle. I looked, but didn't see him nowheres. Then he whistled again, and I see his head sticking out of the top of a palm tree. 

"'Is she gone?' says he. 

"'Yes, long ago, ' says I. 'Come down. '

"It took some coaxing to git him down, but he come after a spell, and hewas the scaredest man ever I see. I asked him what the matter was. 

"''Edge, ' says he, 'I'm a lost man. That 'ere 'orrible 'Ankins houtrageis either going to marry me or kill me. 'Edge, ' he says, awful solemn, 'she tried to kiss me! S'elp me, she did!'

"Well, I set back and laughed. 'Is that why you run away?' I says. 

"'No, ' says he. 'When I wouldn't let 'er she hups with a rock as big asmy 'ead and goes for me. There was murder in 'er eyes, 'Edge; I see it. '

"Then I laughed more than ever and told him to come back to the shanty, but he wouldn't. He swore he'd never come back again while Lobelia'Ankins was there. 

"'That's it, ' says he, 'larf at a feller critter's sufferings. I honlywish she'd try to kiss you once, that's all!'

"Well, I couldn't make him budge, so I decided to go back and get thelay of the land. Lobelia was busy inside the shanty when I got thereand looking black as a thundercloud, so I judged 'twa'n't best to saynothing to her, and I went down and finished the job on the schooner. Atnight, when I come in to suppers she met me at the door. She had a bigstick in her hand and looked savage. I was a little nervous. 

"'Now, Lobelia 'Ankins, ' says I, 'put down that and be sociable, there'sa good girl. '

"'Course I knew she couldn't understand me, but I was whistling to keepmy courage up, as the saying is. 

"''Ammond!' says she, p'inting toward the woods. 

"'Yes, ' says I, 'Hammond's taking a walk for his health. '

"''Ammond!' says she, louder, and shaking the stick. 

"'Now, Lobelia, ' says I, smiling smooth as butter, 'do put down thatclub!'

"''AMMOND!' she fairly hollers. Then she went through the mostblood-curdling pantomime ever was, I reckon. First she comes up to meand taps me on the chest and says, ''Edge. ' Then she goes creeping roundthe room on tiptoe, p'inting out of the winder all the time as much asto say she was pertending to walk through the woods. Then she p'ints toone of the stumps we used for chairs and screeches 'AMMOND!' and fetchesthe stump an awful bang with the club. Then she comes over to me andkinder snuggles up and smiles, and says, ''Edge, ' and tried to put theclub in my hand. 

"My topnot riz up on my head. 'Good Lord!' thinks I, 'she's making loveto me so's to get me to take that club and go and thump Hammond withit!'

"I was scared stiff, but Lobelia was between me and the door, so I keptsmiling and backing away. 

"'Now, Lobelia, ' says I, 'don't be--'

"''Ammond!' says she. 

"'Now, Miss 'Ankins, d-o-n't be hasty, I--'

"''AMMOND!

"Well, I backed faster and faster, and she follered me right up till atlast I begun to run. Round and round the place we went, me scart for mylife and she fairly frothing with rage. Finally I bust through the doorand put for the woods at a rate that beat Hammond's going all holler. I never stopped till I got close to the palm tree. Then I whistled andHammond answered. 

"When I told him about the rumpus, he set and laughed like an idiot. 

"''Ow d'you like Miss 'Ankin's love-making?' he says. 

"'You'll like it less'n I do, ' I says, 'if she gets up here with thatclub!'

"That kind of sobered him down again, and we got to planning. After aspell, we decided that our only chance was to sneak down to the schoonerin the dark and put to sea, leaving Lobelia alone in her glory. 

"Well, we waited till twelve o'clock or so and then we crept down to thebeach, tiptoeing past the shanty for fear of waking Lobelia. We got onthe schooner all right, hauled up anchor, h'isted sail and stood out ofthe lagoon with a fair wind. When we was fairly to sea we shook hands. 

"'Lawd!' says Hammond, drawing a long breath, 'I never was so 'appy inmy life. This 'ere lady-killing business ain't in my line. '

"He felt so good that he set by the wheel and sung, 'Good-by, sweet'art, good-by, ' for an hour or more. 

"In the morning we was in sight of another small island, and, out on ap'int, was a passel of folks jumping up and down and waving a signal. 

"'Well, if there ain't more castaways!' says I. 

"'Don't go near 'em!' says Hammond. 'Might come there was more Lobeliasamong 'em. '

"But pretty quick we see the crowd all pile into a boat and come rowingoff to us. They was all men, and their signal was a red flannel shirt ona pole. 

"We put about for 'em and picked 'em up, letting their boat tow behindthe schooner. There was five of 'em, a ragged and dirty lot of Malaysand half-breeds. When they first climbed aboard, I see 'em lookingthe schooner over mighty sharp, and in a minute they was all jabberingtogether in native lingo. 

"'What's the matter with 'em?' says Hammond. 

"A chap with scraggy black whiskers and a sort of worried look on hisface, stepped for'ard and made a bow. He looked like a cross between aSpaniard and a Malay, and I guess that's what he was. 

"'Senors, ' says he, palavering and scraping, 'boat! my boat!'

"'W'at's 'e giving us?' says Hammond. 

"'Boat! This boat! My boat, senors, ' says the feller. All to once Iunderstood him. 

"'Hammond, ' I says, 'I swan to man if I don't believe we've picked upthe real crew of this craft!'

"'Si, senor; boat, my boat! Crew! Crew!' says Whiskers, waving his handstoward the rest of his gang. 

"'Hall right, skipper, ' says Hammond; 'glad to see yer back haboard. Make yerselves well at 'ome. 'Ow d' yer lose er in the first place?'

"The feller didn't seem to understand much of this, but he looked moreworried than ever. The crew looked frightened, and jabbered. 

"'Ooman, senors, ' says Whiskers, in half a whisper. 'Ooman, she here?'

"'Hammond, ' says I, 'what's a ooman?' The feller seemed to be thinkin'a minute; then he began to make signs. He pulled his nose down till itmost touched his chin. Then he put his hands to his ears and made loopsof his fingers to show earrings. Then he took off his coat and wrappedit round his knees like make-b'lieve skirts. Hammond and me looked ateach other. 

"''Edge, ' says Hammond, ''e wants to know w'at's become of Lobelia'Ankins. '

"'No, senor, ' says I to the feller; 'ooman no here. Ooman there!' And Ip'inted in the direction of our island. 

"Well, sir, you oughter have seen that Malay gang's faces light up! Theyall bust out a grinning and laffing, and Whiskers fairly hugged me andthen Hammond. Then he made one of the Malays take the wheel instead ofme, and sent another one into the fo'castle after something. 

"But I was curious, and I says, p'inting toward Lobelia's island:

"'Ooman your wife?'

"'No, no, no, ' says he, shaking his head like it would come off, 'oomanno wife. Wife there, ' and he p'inted about directly opposite from myway. 'Ooman, ' he goes on, 'she no wife, she--'

"Just here the Malay come up from the fo'castle, grinning like a chessycat and hugging a fat jug of this here palm wine that natives make. Idon't know where he got it from--I thought Hammond and me had rummagedthat fo'castle pretty well--but, anyhow, there it was. 

"Whiskers passed the jug to me and I handed it over to Hammond. He stoodup to make a speech. 

"'Feller citizens, ' says he, 'I rise to drink a toast. 'Ere's to thebeautchous Lobelia 'Ankins, and may she long hornament the lovely islandwhere she now--'

"The Malay at the wheel behind us gave an awful screech. We all turnedsudden, and there, standing on the companion ladder, with her head andshoulders out of the hatch, was Lobelia 'Ankins, as large as life andtwice as natural. 

"Hammond dropped the jug and it smashed into finders. We all stoodstock-still for a minute, like folks in a tableau. The half-breedskipper stood next to me, and I snum if you couldn't see him shrivel uplike one of them things they call a sensitive plant. 

"The tableau lasted while a feller might count five; then thingshappened. Hammond and me dodged around the deckhouse; the Malays brokeand run, one up the main rigging, two down the fo'castle hatch and oneout on the jib-boom. But the poor skipper wa'n't satisfied with any ofthem places; he started for the lee rail, and Lobelia 'Ankins startedafter him. 

"She caught him as he was going to jump overboard and yanked him backlike he was a bag of meal. She shook him, she boxed his ears, she pulledhis hair, and all the time he was begging and pleading and she wasscreeching and jabbering at the top of her lungs. Hammond pulled me bythe sleeve. 

"'It'll be our turn next, ' says he; 'get into the boat! Quick!'

"The little boat that the crew had come in was towing behind theschooner. We slid over the stern and dropped into it. Hammond cut thetowline and we laid to the oars. Long as we was in the hearing of theschooner the powwow and rumpus kept up, but just as we was landing onthe little island that the Malays had left, she come about on the porttack and stood off to sea. 

"'Lobelia's running things again, ' says Hammond. 

"Three days after this we was took off by a Dutch gunboat. Most ofthe time on the island we spent debating how Lobelia come to be on theschooner. Finally we decided that she must have gone aboard to sleepthat night, suspecting that we'd try to run away in the schooner just aswe had tried to. We talked about Whiskers and his crew and guessed abouthow they came to abandon their boat in the first place. One thing we wassartin sure of, and that was that they'd left Lobelia aboard on purpose. We knew mighty well that's what we'd a-done. 

"What puzzled us most was what relation Lobelia was to the skipper. Shewa'n't his wife, 'cause he'd said so, and she didn't look enough likehim to be his mother or sister. But as we was being took off in theDutchman's yawl, Hammond thumps the thwart with his fist and says he:

"'I've got it!' he says; 'she's 'is mother-in-law!'

"''Course she is!' says I. 'We might have known it!'"

THE MEANNESS OF ROSY

Cap'n Jonadab said that the South Seas and them islands was full ofqueer happenings, anyhow. Said that Eri's yarn reminded him of one thatJule Sparrow used to tell. There was a Cockney in that yarn, too, anda South Sea woman and a schooner. But in other respects the stories wasdifferent. 

"You all know Wash Sparrow, here in Wellmouth, " says the Cap'n. "He'sthe laziest man in town. It runs in his family. His dad was just thesame. The old man died of creeping paralysis, which was just the diseasehe'd pick out TO die of, and even then he took six years to do it in. Washy's brother Jule, Julius Caesar Sparrow, he was as no-account andlazy as the rest. When he was around this neighborhood he put in histime swapping sea lies for heat from the post-office stove, and the onlything that would get him livened up at all was the mention of a fellernamed 'Rosy' that he knew while he was seafaring, way off on t'otherside of the world. Jule used to say that 'twas this Rosy that made himlose faith in human nature. 

"The first time ever Julius and Rosy met was one afternoon just as theEmily--that was the little fore-and-aft South Sea trading schooner Julewas in--was casting off from the ramshackle landing at Hello Island. Where's Hello Island? Well, I'll tell you. When you get home you takeyour boy's geography book and find the map of the world. About amidshipsof the sou'western quarter of it you'll see a place where the PacificOcean is all broke out with the measles. Yes; well, one of them measlespots is Hello Island. 

"'Course that ain't the real name of it. The real one is spelt with fouro's, three a's, five i's, and a peck measure of h's and x's hove into fill up. It looks like a plate of hash and that's the way it'spronounced. Maybe you might sing it if 'twas set to music, but no whiteman ever said the whole of it. Them that tried always broke down onthe second fathom or so and said 'Oh, the hereafter!' or words to thateffect. 'Course the missionaries see that wouldn't do, so they twistedit stern first and it's been Hello Island to most folks ever since. 

"Why Jule was at Hello Island is too long a yarn. Biled down it amountsto a voyage on a bark out of Seattle, and a first mate like yours, Eri, who was a kind of Christian Science chap and cured sick sailors by thelaying on of hands--likewise feet and belaying pins and ax handles andsuch. And, according to Jule's tell, he DID cure 'em, too. After he'djumped up and down on your digestion a few times you forgot all aboutthe disease you started in with and only remembered the complications. Him and Julius had their final argument one night when the bark waspassing abreast one of the Navigator Islands, close in. Jule hove amarlinespike at the mate's head and jumped overboard. He swum ashoreto the beach and, inside of a week, he'd shipped aboard the Emily. And'twas aboard the Emily, and at Hello Island, as I said afore, that hemet Rosy. 

"George Simmons--a cockney Britisher he was, and skipper--was standingat the schooner's wheel, swearing at the two Kanaka sailors who werehisting the jib. Julius, who was mate, was roosting on the lee railamid-ships, helping him swear. And old Teunis Van Doozen, a Dutchmanfrom Java or thereabouts, who was cook, was setting on a stool by thegalley door ready to heave in a word whenever 'twas necessary. TheKanakas was doing the work. That was the usual division of labor aboardthe Emily. 

"Well, just then there comes a yell from the bushes along the shore. Then another yell and a most tremendous cracking and smashing. Then outof them bushes comes tearing a little man with spectacles and a blackenamel-cloth carpetbag, heaving sand like a steam-shovel and seeminglytrying his best to fly. And astern of him comes more yells and a big, husky Kanaka woman, about eight foot high and three foot in the beam, with her hands stretched out and her fingers crooked. 

"Julius used to swear that that beach was all of twenty yards wide andthat the little man only lit three times from bush to wharf. And hedidn't stop there. He fired the carpetbag at the schooner's stern andthen spread out his wings and flew after it. His fingers just hookedover the rail and he managed to haul himself aboard. Then he curled upon the deck and breathed short but spirited. The Kanaka woman danced tothe stringpiece and whistled distress signals. 

"Cap'n George Simmons looked down at the wrecked flying machine andgrunted. 

"'Umph!' says he. 'You don't look like a man the girls would run after. Lady your wife?'

"The little feller bobbed his specs up and down. 

"'So?' says George. ''Ow can I bear to leave thee, 'ey? Well, ain'tyou ashamed of yourself to be running off and leaving a nice, 'andsome, able-bodied wife that like? Look at 'er now, over there on 'er knees apraying for you to come back. '

"There was a little p'int making out from the beach close by the edge ofthe channel and the woman was out on the end of it, down on all fours. Her husband raised up and looked over the rail. 

"'She ain't praying, ' he pants, ducking down again quick. 'She'sa-picking up stones. '

"And so she was. Julius said he thought sure she'd cave in the Emily'sribs afore she got through with her broadsides. The rocks flew likehail. Everybody got their share, but Cap'n George got a big one in themiddle of the back. That took his breath so all the way he could expresshis feelings was to reach out and give his new passenger half a dozenkicks. But just as soon as he could he spoke, all right enough. 

"'You mis'rable four-eyed shrimp!' he says. ''Twould serve you right ifI 'ove to and made you swim back to 'er. Blow me if I don't believe Iwill!'

"'Aw, don't, Cap'n; PLEASE don't!' begs the feller. 'I'll be awfulgrateful to you if you won't. And I'll make it right with you, too. I'vegot a good thing in that bag of mine. Yes, sir! A beautiful good thing. '

"'Oh, well, ' says the skipper, bracing up and smiling sweet as he couldfor the ache in his back. 'I'll 'elp you out. You trust your UncleGeorge. Not on account of what you're going to give me, you understand, 'says he. 'It would be a pity if THAT was the reason for 'elpin' a fellercreat--Sparrow, if you touch that bag I'll break your blooming 'ead. 'Ere! you 'and it to me. I'll take care of it for the gentleman. '

"All the rest of that day the Cap'n couldn't do enough for thepassenger. Give him a big dinner that took Teunis two hours to cook, andlet him use his own pet pipe with the last of Jule's tobacco in it, andall that. And that evening in the cabin, Rosy told his story. Seems hecome from Bombay originally, where he was born an innocent and trainedto be a photographer. This was in the days when these hand cameraswa'n't so common as they be now, and Rosy--his full name was ClarenceRosebury, and he looked it--had a fine one. Also he had some plates andphotograph paper and a jug of 'developer' and bottles of stuff to makemore, wrapped up in an old overcoat and packed away in the carpetbag. Hehad landed in the Fijis first-off and had drifted over to Hello Island, taking pictures of places and natives and so on, intending to use 'em ina course of lectures he was going to deliver when he got back home. Heboarded with the Kanaka lady at Hello till his money give out, andthen he married her to save board. He wouldn't talk about his marriedlife--just shivered instead. 

"'But w'at about this good thing you was mentioning, Mr. Rosebury?' asksCap'n George, polite, but staring hard at the bag. Jule and the cook wasin the cabin likewise. The skipper would have liked to keep 'em out, butthey being two to one, he couldn't. 

"'That's it, ' answers Rosy, cheerful. 

"'W'at's it?'

"'Why, the things in the grip; the photograph things. You see, ' saysRosy, getting excited, his innocent, dreamy eyes a-shining behind hisspecs and the ridge of red hair around his bald spot waving like a hedgeof sunflowers; 'you see, ' he says, 'my experience has convinced me thatthere's a fortune right in these islands for a photographer who'll takepictures of the natives. They're all dying to have their photographstook. Why, when I was in Hello Island I could have took dozens, onlythey didn't have the money to pay for 'em and I couldn't wait till theygot some. But you've got a schooner. You could sail around from oneisland to another, me taking pictures and you getting copra and--andpearls and things from the natives in trade for 'em. And we'd leave astanding order for more plates to be delivered steady from the steamerat Suva or somewheres, and--'

"''Old on!' Cap'n George had been getting redder and redder in the facewhile Rosy was talking, and now he fairly biled over, like a teakettle. ''Old on!' he roars. 'Do I understand that THIS is the good thingyou was going to let me in on? Me to cruise you around from Dan toBeersheby, feeding you, and giving you tobacco to smoke--'

"''Twas my tobacco, ' breaks in Julius. 

"'Shut up! Cruising you around, and you living on the fat of--ofthe--the water, and me trusting to get my pay out of tintypes ofKanakas! Was that it? Was it?'

"'Why--why, yes, ' answers Rosy. 'But, cap'n, you don't understand--'

"'Then, ' says George, standing up and rolling up his pajama sleeves, 'there's going to be justifiable 'omicide committed right now. '

"Jule said that if it hadn't been that the skipper's sore back got tohurting him he don't know when him and the cook would have had theirturn at Rosy. 'Course they wanted a turn on account of the tobaccoand the dinner, not to mention the stone bruises. When all hands wasthrough, that photographer was a spiled negative. 

"And that was only the beginning. They ain't much fun abusing Kanakasbecause they don't talk back, but first along Rosy would try to talkback, and that give 'em a chance. Julius had learned a lot of thingsfrom that mate on the bark, and he tried 'em all on that tintype man. And afterward they invented more. They made him work his passage, andevery mean and dirty job there was to do, he had to do it. They tookhis clothes away from him, and, while they lasted, the skipper had threeshirts at once, which hadn't happened afore since he served his term inthe Sydney jail. And he was such a COMFORT to 'em. Whenever the dinnerwa'n't cooked right, instead of blaming Teunis, they took it out ofRosy. By the time they made their first port they wouldn't have partedwith him for no money, and they locked him up in the fo'castle and kepthim there. And when one of the two Kanaka boys run away they shippedRosy in his place by unanimous vote. And so it went for six months, theEmily trading and stealing all around the South Seas. 

"One day the schooner was off in an out-of-the way part of theocean, and the skipper come up from down below, bringing one of thephotographing bottles from the carpetbag. 

"'See 'ere, ' says he to Rosy, who was swabbing decks just to keep himout of mischief, 'w'at kind of a developer stuff is this? It has amighty familiar smell. '

"'That ain't developer, sir, ' answers Rosy, meek as usual. 'That'salcohol. I use it--'

"'Alcohol!' says George. 'Do you mean to tell me that you've 'ad alcoholaboard all this time and never said a word to one of us? If that ain'tjust like you! Of all the ungrateful beasts as ever I--'

"When him and the other two got through convincing Rosy that hewas ungrateful, they took that bottle into the cabin and begunexperimenting. Julius had lived a few months in Maine, which is aprohibition State, and so he knew how to make alcohol 'splits'--one-halfwet fire and the rest water. They 'split' for five days. Then thealcohol was all out and the Emily was all in, being stove up on a coralreef two mile off shore of a little island that nobody'd ever seenafore. 

"They got into the boat--the four white men and the Kanaka--histed thesail, and headed for the beach. They landed all right and was welcomedby a reception committee of fifteen husky cannibals with spears, dressedmainly in bone necklaces and sunshine. The committee was glad to see'em, and showed it, particular to Teunis, who was fat. Rosy, beingprincipally framework by this time, wa'n't nigh so popular; but hedidn't seem to care. 

"The darkies tied 'em up good and proper and then held a committeemeeting, arguing, so Julius cal'lated, whether to serve 'em plain orwith greens. While the rest was making up the bill of fare, a few setto work unpacking the bags and things, Rosy's satchel among 'em. Prettysoon there was an awful jabbering. 

"'They've settled it, ' says George, doleful. 'Well, there's enough ofTeunis to last 'em for one meal, if they ain't 'ogs. You're a tough oldbird, cooky; maybe you'll give 'em dyspepsy, so they won't care for therest of us. That's a ray of 'ope, ain't it?'

"But the cook didn't seem to get much hope out of it. He was busytelling the skipper what he thought of him when the natives come up. They was wildly excited, and two or three of 'em was waving squarepieces of cardboard in their hands. 

"And here's where the Emily's gang had a streak of luck. The Kanakasailor couldn't talk much English, but it seems that his granddad, orsome of his ancestors, must have belonged to the same breed of cats asthese islanders, for he could manage to understand a little of theirlingo. 

"'Picture!' says he, crazy-like with joy. 'Picture, cappy; picture!'

"When Rosy was new on board the schooner, afore George and the rest hadplayed with him till he was an old story, one of their games was to havehim take their photographs. He'd taken the cap'n's picture, and Julius'sand Van Doozen's. The pictures was a Rogues' Gallery that would have got'em hung on suspicion anywhere in civilization, but these darkieswa'n't particular. Anyhow they must have been good likenesses, for thecommittee see the resemblance right off. 

"'They t'ink witchcraft, ' says the Kanaka. 'Want to know how make. '

"'Lord!' says George. 'You tell 'em we're witches from Witch Center. Tell 'em we make them kind of things with our eyes shut, and if they eatus we'll send our tintypes to 'aunt 'em into their graves. Tell 'em thatquick. '

"Well, I guess the Kanaka obeyed orders, for the islanders was all shookup. They jabbered and hurrahed like a parrot-house for ten minutes orso. Then they untied the feet of their Sunday dinners, got 'em intoline, and marched 'em off across country, prodding 'em with theirspears, either to see which was the tenderest or to make 'em steplivelier, I don't know which. 

"Julius said that was the most nervous walk ever he took. Said afore'twas done he was so leaky with spear holes that he cast a shadder likea skimmer. Just afore sunset they come to the other side of the island, where there was a good sized native village, with houses made of grassand cane, and a big temple-like in the middle, decorated fancy andcheerful with skulls and spareribs. Jule said there was places wherethe decorations needed repairs, and he figgered he was just in time tofinish 'em. But he didn't take no pride in it; none of his folks caredfor art. 

"The population was there to meet 'em, and even the children lookedhungry. Anybody could see that having company drop in for dinner wasright to their taste. There was a great chair arrangement in front ofthe temple, and on it was the fattest, ugliest, old liver-coloredwoman that Julius ever see. She was rigged up regardless, with a toothnecklace and similar jewelry; and it turned out that she was the queenof the bunch. Most of them island tribes have chiefs, but this districtwas strong for woman suffrage. 

"Well, the visitors had made a hit, but Rosy's photographs made abigger one. The queen and the head men of the village pawed over 'em andcompared 'em with the originals and powwowed like a sewing circle. Thenthey called up the Kanaka sailor, and he preached witchcraft and hoodoosto beat the cars, lying as only a feller that knows the plates arewarming for him on the back of the stove can lie. Finally the queenwanted to know if the 'long pigs' could make a witch picture of HER. 

"'Tell 'er yes, ' yells George, when the question was translated to him. 'Tell 'er we're picture-makers by special app'intment to the Queen andthe Prince of Wales. Tell 'er we'll make 'er look like the sweetest oldchocolate drop in the taffy-shop. Only be sure and say we must 'ave aday or so to work the spells and put on the kibosh. '

"So 'twas settled, and dinner was put off for that night, anyhow. Andthe next day being sunny, Rosy took the queen's picture. 'Twas an awfulstrain on the camera, but it stood it fine; and the photographs heprinted up that afternoon was the most horrible collection of mince-piedreams that ever a sane man run afoul of. Rosy used one of the grasshuts for a dark room; and while he was developing them plates, theycould hear him screaming from sheer fright at being shut up alone with'em in the dark. 

"But her majesty thought they was lovely, and set and grinned proud at'em for hours at a stretch. And the wizards was untied and fed up andgiven the best house in town to live in. And Cap'n George and Julius andthe cook got to feeling so cheerful and happy that they begun to kickRosy again, just out of habit. And so it went on for three days. 

"Then comes the Kanaka interpreter--grinning kind of foolish. 

"'Cappy, ' says he, 'queen, she likes you. She likes you much lot. '

"'Well, ' says the skipper, modest, 'she'd ought to. She don't see a manlike me every day. She ain't the first woman, ' he says. 

"'She like all you gentlemen, ' says the Kanaka. 'She say she want witchhusband. One of you got marry her. "

"'HEY?' yells all hands, setting up. 

"'Yes, sir. She no care which one, but one white man must marry herto-morrow. Else we all go chop plenty quick. '

"'Chop' is Kanaka English for 'eat. ' There wa'n't no need for the boy toexplain. 

"Then there was times. They come pretty nigh to a fight, because Teunisand Jule argued that the skipper, being such a ladies' man, was thenatural-born choice. Just as things was the warmest; Cap'n George had anidea. 

"'ROSY!' says he. 

"'Hey?' says the others. Then, 'Rosy? Why, of course, Rosy's the man. '

"But Rosy wa'n't agreeable. Julius said he never see such a stubbornmule in his life. They tried every reasonable way they could to convincehim, pounding him on the head and the like of that, but 'twas no go. 

"'I got a wife already, ' he says, whimpering. 'And, besides, cap'n, there wouldn't be such a contrast in looks between you and her as therewould with me. '

"He meant so far as size went, but George took it the other way, andthere was more trouble. Finally Julius come to the rescue. 

"'I tell you, ' says he. 'We'll be square and draw straws!'

"'W'at?' hollers George. 'Well, I guess not!'

"'And I'll hold the straws, ' says Jule, winking on the side. 

"So they drew straws, and, strange as it may seem, Rosy got stuck. Hecried all night, and though the others tried to comfort him, telling himwhat a lucky man he was to marry a queen, he wouldn't cheer up a mite. 

"And next day the wedding took place in the temple in front of a woodidol with three rows of teeth, and as ugly almost as the bride, whichwas saying a good deal. And when 'twas over, the three shipmates comeand congratulated the groom, wishing him luck and a happy honeymoon andsuch. Oh, they had a bully time, and they was still laughing over itthat night after supper, when down comes a file of big darkies withspears, the Kanaka interpreter leading 'em. 

"'Cappy, ' says he. 'The king say you no stay in this house no more. Hesay too good for you. Say, bimeby, when the place been clean up, maybehe use it himself. You got to go. '

"'Who says this?' roars Cap'n George, ugly as could be. 

"'The king, he say it. '

"'The queen, you mean. There ain't no king. '

"'Yes, sir. King AND queen now. Mr. Rosy he king. All tribe proud tohave witch king. '

"The three looked at each other. 

"'Do you mean to say, ' says the skipper, choking so he could hardlyspeak, 'that we've got to take orders from 'IM?'

"'Yes, sir. King say you no mind, we make. '

"Well, sir, the language them three used must have been something awful, judging by Jule's tell. But when they vowed they wouldn't move, thespears got busy and out they had to get and into the meanest, dirtiestlittle hut in the village, one without hardly any sides and great holesin the roof. And there they stayed all night in a pouring rain, the kindof rains you get in them islands. 

"'Twa'n't a nice night. They tried huddling together to keep dry, but'twa'n't a success because there was always a row about who should be inthe middle. Then they kept passing personal remarks to one another. 

"'If the skipper hadn't been so gay and uppish about choosing Rosy, 'says Julius, 'there wouldn't have been no trouble. I do hate a smartAleck. '

"'Who said draw straws?' sputters George, mad clean through. 'And who'eld 'em? 'Ey? Who did?'

"'Well, ' says Teunis, '_I_ didn't do it. You can't blame me. '

"'No. You set there like a bump on a log and let me and the mate put ourfeet in it. You old fat 'ead! I--'

"They pitched into the cook until he got mad and hit the skipper. Thenthere was a fight that lasted till they was all scratched up and tiredout. The only thing they could agree on was that Rosy was what theskipper called a 'viper' that they'd nourished in their bosoms. 

"Next morning 'twas worse than ever. Down comes the Kanaka with hisspear gang and routs 'em out and sets 'em to gathering breadfruit allday in the hot sun. And at night 'twas back to the leaky hut again. 

"And that wa'n't nothing to what come later. The lives that King Rosyled them three was something awful. 'Twas dig in and work day in and dayout. Teunis had to get his majesty's meals, and nothing was ever cookedright; and then the royal army got after the steward with spear handles. Cap'n George had to clean up the palace every day, and Rosy and thequeen--who was dead gone on her witch husband, and let him do anythinghe wanted to--stood over him and found fault and punched him with sharpsticks to see him jump. And Julius had to fetch and carry and wait, andget on his knees whenever he spoke to the king, and he helped up againwith a kick, like as not. 

"Rosy took back all his own clothes that they'd stole, and then he tooktheirs for good measure. He made 'em marry the three ugliest old womenon the island--his own bride excepted--and when they undertook to use aclub or anything, he had THEM licked instead. He wore 'em down to skinand bone. Jule said you wouldn't believe a mortal man could treat hisfeller creatures so low down and mean. And the meanest part of it wasthat he always called 'em the names that they used to call him aboardship. Sometimes he invented new ones, but not often, because 'twa'n'tnecessary. 

"For a good six months this went on--just the same length of time thatRosy was aboard the Emily. Then, one morning early, Julius looks outof one of the holes in the roof of his house and, off on the horizon, heading in, he sees a small steamer, a pleasure yacht 'twas. He lets outa yell that woke up the village, and races head first for the Emily'sboat that had been rowed around from the other side of the island, andlaid there with her oars and sail still in her. And behind him comes VanDoozen and Cap'n George. 

"Into the boat they piled, while the islanders were getting their eyesopen and gaping at the steamer. There wa'n't no time to get up sail, sothey grabbed for the oars. She stuck on the sand just a minute; and, inthat minute, down from the palace comes King Rosy, running the way herun from his first wife over at Hello. He leaped over the stern, pickedup the other oar, and off they put across the lagoon. The rudder was inits place and so was the tiller, but they couldn't use 'em then. 

"They had a good start, but afore they'd got very far the natives hadwaked up and were after 'em in canoes. 

"''Ere!' screams Cap'n George. 'This won't do! They'll catch us sure. Get sail on to 'er lively! Somebody take that tiller. '

"Rosy, being nearest, took the tiller and the others got up the sail. Then 'twas nip and tuck with the canoes for the opening of the barrierreef at the other side of the lagoon. But they made it first, and, justas they did, out from behind the cliff comes the big steam-yacht, allwhite and shining, with sailors in uniform on her decks, and awningsflapping, and four mighty pretty women leaning over the side. All of theEmily gang set up a whoop of joy, and 'twas answered from the yacht. 

"'Saved!' hollers Cap'n George. 'Saved, by thunder! And now, ' says he, knocking his fists together, 'NOW to get square with that four-eyedthief in the stern! Come on, boys!'

"Him and Julius and Teunis made a flying leap aft to get at Rosy. ButRosy see 'em coming, jammed the tiller over, the boom swung across andswept the three overboard pretty as you please. 

"There was a scream from the yacht. Rosy give one glance at the women. Then he tossed his arms over his head. 

"'Courage, comrades!' he shouts. 'I'll save you or die with you!'

"And overboard he dives, 'kersplash!'

"Julius said him and the skipper could have swum all right if Rosy hadgive 'em the chance, but he didn't. He knew a trick worth two of that. He grabbed 'em round the necks and kept hauling 'em under and splashingand kicking like a water-mill. All hands was pretty well used up whenthey was pulled aboard the yacht. 

"'Oh, you brave man!' says one of the women, stooping over Rosy, who wassprawled on the deck with his eyes shut, 'Oh, you HERO!'

"'Are they living?' asks Rosy, faint-like and opening one eye. 'Good!Now I can die content. '

"'Living!' yells George, soon's he could get the salt water out of hismouth. 'Living! By the 'oly Peter! Let me at 'im! I'll show 'im whetherI'm living or not!'

"'What ails you, you villain?' says the feller that owned the yacht, a great big Englishman, Lord Somebody-or-other. 'The man saved yourlives. '

"'He knocked us overboard!' yells Julius. 

"'Yes, and he done it a-purpose!' sputters Van Doozen, well as he couldfor being so waterlogged. 

"'Let's kill him!' says all three. 

"'Did it on purpose!' says the lord, scornful. 'Likely he'd throw youover and then risk his life to save you. Here!' says he to the mate. 'Take those ungrateful rascals below. Give 'em dry clothes and then set'em to work--hard work; understand? As for this poor, brave chap, takehim to the cabin. I hope he'll pull through, ' says he. 

"And all the rest of the voyage, which was to Melbourne, Julius and histwo chums had to slave and work like common sailors, while Rosy, thehero invalid, was living on beef tea and jelly and champagne, and beingpetted and fanned by the lord's wife and the other women. And 'twasworse toward the end, when he pretended to be feeling better, and couldset in a steamer-chair on deck and grin and make sarcastic remarks underhis breath to George and the other two when they was holystoning orscrubbing in the heat. 

"At Melbourne they hung around the wharf, waiting to lick him, till thelord had 'em took up for vagrants. When they got out of the lockup theyfound Rosy had gone. And his lordship had given him money and clothes, and I don't know what all. 

"Julius said that Rosy's meanness sickened him of the sea. Said 'twastime to retire when such reptiles was afloat. So he come home andmarried the scrub-woman at the Bay View House. He lived with her tillshe lost her job. I don't know where he is now. "

 * * * * *

'Twas purty quiet for a few minutes after Jonadab had unloaded thisyarn. Everybody was busy trying to swaller his share of the statementsin it, I cal'late. Peter T. Looked at the Cap'n, admiring butreproachful. 

"Wixon, " says he. "I didn't know 'twas in you. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Oh, " says Jonadab, "I ain't responsible. 'Twas Jule Sparrow that toldit to me. "

"Humph!" says Peter. "I wish you knew his address. I'd like to hire himto write the Old Home ads. I thought MY invention was A 1, but I'm inthe kindergarten. Well, let's go to bed before somebody tries to win theprize from Sparrow. "

'Twas after eleven by then, so, as his advice looked good, we folleredit. 

THE ANTIQUERS

We've all got a crazy streak in us somewheres, I cal'late, only thestreaks don't all break out in the same place, which is a mercy, whenyou come to think of it. One feller starts tooting a fish horn andmaking announcements that he's the Angel Gabriel. Another poor sufferershows his first symptom by having his wife's relations come and livewith him. One ends in the asylum and t'other in the poorhouse; that'sthe main difference in them cases. Jim Jones fiddles with perpetualmotion and Sam Smith develops a sure plan for busting Wall Street andgetting rich sudden. I take summer boarders maybe, and you collectpostage stamps. Oh, we're all looney, more or less, every one of us. 

Speaking of collecting reminds me of the "Antiquers"--that's what PeterT. Brown called 'em. They put up at the Old Home House--summer beforelast; and at a crank show they'd have tied for the blue ribbon. Therewas the Dowager and the Duchess and "My Daughter" and "Irene dear. "Likewise there was Thompson and Small, but they, being nothing buthusbands and fathers, didn't count for much first along, except whenboard was due or "antiques" had to be settled for. 

The Dowager fetched port first. She hove alongside the Old Home onemorning early in July, and she had "My Daughter" in tow. The names, asentered on the shipping list, was Mrs. Milo Patrick Thompson and MissBarbara Millicent Thompson, but Peter T. Brown he had 'em re-entered as"The Dowager" and "My Daughter" almost as soon as they dropped anchor. Thompson himself come poking up to the dock on the following Saturdaynight; Peter didn't christen him, except to chuck out something aboutMilo's being an "also ran. "

The Dowager was skipper of the Thompson craft, with "Mydaughter"--that's what her ma always called her--as first mate, and Miloas general roustabout and purser. 

'Twould have done you good to see the fleet run into the breakfast roomof a morning, with the Dowager leading, under full sail, Barbara closeup to her starboard quarter, and Milo tailing out a couple of lengthsastern. The other boarders looked like quahaug dories abreast of theMarblehead Yacht Club. Oh, the Thompsons won every cup until the Smallsarrived on a Monday; then 'twas a dead heat. 

Mamma Small was built on the lines of old lady Thompson, only more so, and her daughter flew pretty nigh as many pennants as Barbara. PeterT. Had 'em labeled the "Duchess" and "Irene dear" in a jiffy. He didn'tnickname Small any more'n he had Thompson, and for the same reasons. Meand Cap'n Jonadab called Small "Eddie" behind his back, 'count of hiswife's hailing him as "Edwin. "

Well, the Dowager and the Duchess sized each other up, and, recognizingI jedge, that they was sister ships, set signals and agreed to cruise incompany and watch out for pirates--meaning young men without money whomight want to talk to their daughters. In a week the four women wasthicker than hasty-pudding and had thrones on the piazza where theycould patronize everybody short of the Creator, and criticize the otherboarders. Milo and Eddie got friendly too, and found a harbor behind thebarn where they could smoke and swap sympathy. 

'Twas fair weather for pretty near a fortni't, and then she thickenedup. The special brand of craziness in Wellmouth that season wascollecting "antiques, " the same being busted chairs and invalid bureausand sofys that your great grandmarm got ashamed of and sent to thesickbay a thousand year ago. Oh, yes, and dishes! If there was one thingthat would drive a city woman to counting her fingers and cutting paperdolls, 'twas a nicked blue plate with a Chinese picture on it. And thehomelier the plate the higher the price. Why there was as many as sixfamilies that got enough money for the rubbage in their garrets tofurnish their houses all over with brand new things--real shiny, hand-painted stuff, not haircloth ruins with music box springs, norplatters that you had to put a pan under for fear of losing cargo. 

I don't know who fetched the disease to the Old Home House. All I'msartain of is that 'twan't long afore all hands was in that conditionwhere the doctor'd have passed 'em on to the parson. First along itseemed as if the Thompson-Small syndicate had been vaccinated--theydidn't develop a symptom. But one noon the Dowager sails into thedining-room and unfurls a brown paper bundle. 

"I've captured a prize, my dear, " says she to the Duchess. "A veritableprize. Just look!"

And she dives under the brown paper hatches and resurrects a pink plate, suffering from yaller jaundice, with the picture of a pink boy, wearingcurls and a monkey-jacket, holding hands with a pink girl with pointedfeet. 

"Ain't it perfectly lovely?" says she, waving the outrage in front ofthe Duchess. "A ginuwine Hall nappy! And in SUCH condition!"

"Why, " says the Duchess, "I didn't know you were interested inantiques. "

"I dote on 'em, " comes back the Dowager, and "my daughter" owned up thatshe "adored" 'em. 

"If you knew, " continues Mrs. Thompson, "how I've planned and contrivedto get this treasure. I've schemed--My! my! My daughter says she'sactually ashamed of me. Oh, no! I can't tell even you where I got it. All's fair in love and collecting, you know, and there are more gemswhere this came from. "

She laughed and "my daughter" laughed, and the Duchess and "Irene dear"laughed, too, and said the plate was "SO quaint, " and all that, butyou could fairly hear 'em turn green with jealousy. It didn't need aspyglass to see that they wouldn't ride easy at their own moorings tillTHEY'D landed a treasure or two--probably two. 

And sure enough, in a couple of days they bore down on the Thompsons, all sail set and colors flying. They had a pair of plates that forugliness and price knocked the "ginuwine Hall nappy" higher 'n the maintruck. And the way they crowed and bragged about their "finds" wa'n'tfit to put in the log. The Dowager and "my daughter" left that dinnertable trembling all over. 

Well, you can see how a v'yage would end that commenced that way. The Dowager and Barbara would scour the neighborhood and capture moreprizes, and the Duchess and her tribe would get busy and go 'em onebetter. That's one sure p'int about the collecting business--it'll stirup a fight quicker'n anything I know of, except maybe a good lookingbachelor minister. The female Thompsons and Smalls was "my dear-in'"each other more'n ever, but there was a chill setting in round thempiazza thrones, and some of the sarcastic remarks that was casually hoveout by the bosom friends was pretty nigh sharp enough to shave with. Asfor Milo and Eddie, they still smoked together behind the barn, but theatmosphere on the quarter-deck was affecting the fo'castle and therewa'n't quite so many "old mans" and "dear boys" as there used to was. There was a general white frost coming, and you didn't need an OldFarmer's Almanac to prove it. 

The spell of weather developed sudden. One evening me and Cap'n Jonadaband Peter T. Was having a confab by the steps of the billiard-room, when Milo beats up from around the corner. He was smiling as a basket ofchips. 

"Hello!" hails Peter T. Cordial. "You look as if you'd had money leftyou. Any one else remembered in the will?" he says. 

Milo laughed all over. "Well, well, " says he, "I AM feeling pretty good. Made a ten-strike with Mrs. T. This afternoon for sure. 

"That so?" says Peter. "What's up? Hooked a prince?"

A friend of "my daughter's" over at Newport had got engaged to amandarin or a count or something 'nother, and the Dowager had beenpreaching kind of eloquent concerning the shortness of the nobility cropround Wellmouth. 

"No, " says Milo, laughing again. "Nothing like that. But I have got holdof that antique davenport she's been dying to capture. "

One of the boarders at the hotel over to Harniss had been out antiquinga week or so afore and had bagged a contraption which answered to thename of a "ginuwine Sheriton davenport. " The dowager heard of it, andever since she'd been remarking that some people had husbands who caredenough for their wives to find things that pleased 'em. She wished shewas lucky enough to have that kind of a man; but no, SHE had to dependon herself, and etcetery and so forth. Maybe you've heard sermonssimilar. 

So we was glad for Milo and said so. Likewise we wanted to know where hefound the davenport. 

"Why, up here in the woods, " says Milo, "at the house of a queer oldstick, name of Rogers. I forget his front name--'twas longer'n thedavenport. "

"Not Adoniram Rogers?" says Cap'n Jonadab, wondering. 

"That's him, " says Thompson. 

Now, I knew Adoniram Rogers. His house was old enough, Lord knows; butthat a feller with a nose for a bargain like his should have hung onto a salable piece of dunnage so long as this seemed 'most too tough tobelieve. 

"Well, I swan to man!" says I. "Adoniram Rogers! Have you seen the--thedavenport thing?"

"Sure I've seen it!" says Milo. "I ain't much of a jedge, and of courseI couldn't question Rogers too much for fear he'd stick on the price. But it's an old davenport, and it's got Sheriton lines and I've got therefusal of it till to-morrow, when Mrs. T's going up to inspect. "

"Told Small yet?" asked Peter T. , winking on the side to me and Jonadab. 

Milo looked scared. "Goodness! No, " says he. "And don't you tell himneither. His wife's davenport hunting too. "

"You say you've got the refusal of it?" says I. "Well, I know AdoniramRogers, and if _I_ was dickering with him I'd buy the thing first andget the refusal of it afterwards. You hear ME?"

"Is that so?" repeats Milo. "Slippery, is he? I'll take my wife up therefirst thing in the morning. "

He walked off looking worried, and his tops'ls hadn't much more'n sunkin the offing afore who should walk out of the billiard room behind usbut Eddie Small. 

"Brown, " says he to Peter T. , "I want you to have a horse and buggyharnessed up for me right off. Mrs. Small and I are going for a littledrive to--to--over to Orham, " he says. 

'Twas a mean, black night for a drive as fur as Orham and Peter lookedsurprised. He started to say something, then swallered it down, and toldEddie he'd see to the harnessing. When Small was out of sight, I says:

"You don't cal'late he heard what Milo was telling, do you, Peter?" saysI. 

Peter T. Shook his head and winked, first at Jonadab and then at me. 

And the next day there was the dickens to pay because Eddie and theDuchess had driven up to Rogers' the night afore and had bought thedavenport, refusal and all, for twenty dollars more'n Milo offered forit. 

Adoniram brought it down that forenoon and all hands and the cook was onthe hurricane deck to man the yards. 'Twas a wonder them boarders didn'tturn out the band and fire salutes. Such ohs and ahs! 'Twan't nothingbut a ratty old cripple of a sofy, with one leg carried away and mostof the canvas in ribbons, but four men lugged it up the steps and thecareful way they handled it made you think the Old Home House was areceiving tomb and they was laying in the dear departed. 

'Twas set down on the piazza and then the friends had a chance toview the remains. The Duchess and "Irene dear" gurgled and gushed andreceived congratulations. Eddie stood around and tried to look modestas was possible under the circumstances. The Dowager sailed over, tiltedher nose up to the foretop, remarked "Humph"' through it and come aboutand stood at the other end of the porch. "My daughter" follers in herwake, observes "Humph!" likewise and makes for blue water. Milo comesover and looks at Eddie. 

"Well?" says Small. "What do you think of it?"

"Never mind what I think of IT, " answers Thompson, through his teeth. "Shall I tell you what I think of YOU?"

I thought for a minute that hostilities was going to begin, but theydidn't. The women was the real battleships in that fleet, the men wa'n'tnothing but transports. Milo and Eddie just glared at each other andsheered off, and the "ginuwine Sheriton" was lugged into the sepulchre, meaning the trunk-room aloft in the hotel. 

And after that the cold around the thrones was so fierce we had to movethe thermometer, and we had to give the families separate tables in thedining-room so's the milk wouldn't freeze. You see the pitcher set rightbetween 'em, and--Oh! I didn't expect you'd believe it. 

The "antiquing" went on harder than ever. Every time the Thompsonslanded a relic, they'd bring it out on the veranda or in to dinner andgloat over it loud and pointed, while the Smalls would pipe all handsto unload sarcasm. And the same vicy vercy when 'twas t'other way about. 'Twas interesting and instructive to listen to and amused the populaceon rainy days, so Peter T. Said. 

Adoniram Rogers had been mighty scurce 'round the Old Home sense thedavenport deal. But one morning he showed up unexpected. A boarder haddug up an antique somewheres in the shape of a derelict plate, andwas displaying it proud on the piazza. The Thompsons was there and theSmalls and a whole lot more. All of a sudden Rogers walks up the stepsand reaches over and makes fast to the plate. 

"Look out!" hollers the prize-winner, frantic. "You'll drop it!"

Adoniram grunted. "Huh!" says he. "'Tain't nothing but a blue dish. I'vegot a whole closet full of them. "

"WHAT?" yells everybody. And then: "Will you sell 'em?"

"Sell 'em?" says Rogers, looking round surprised. "Why, I never seenothing I wouldn't sell if I got money enough for it. "

Then for the next few minutes there was what old Parson Danvers used tocall a study in human nature. All hands started for that poor, helplessplate owner as if they was going to swoop down on him like a passel ofgulls on a dead horse-mack'rel. Then they come to themselves and stoppedand looked at each other, kind of shamefaced but suspicious. The Duchessand her crowd glared at the Dowager tribe and got the glares back withcompound interest. Everybody wanted to get Adoniram one side and talkwith him, and everybody else was determined they shouldn't. Wherever hemoved the "Antiquers" moved with him. Milo watched from the side lines. Rogers got scared. 

"Look here, " says he, staring sort of wild-like at the boarders. "Whatails you folks? Are you crazy?"

Well, he might have made a good deal worse guess than that. I don't knowhow 'twould have ended if Peter T. Brown, cool and sassy as ever, hadn'tcome on deck just then and took command. 

"See here, Rogers, " he says, "let's understand this thing. Have you gota set of dishes like that?"

Adoniram looked at him. "Will I get jailed if I say yes?" he answers. 

"Maybe you will if you don't, " says Peter. "Now, then, ladies andgentlemen, this is something we're all interested in, and I thinkeverybody ought to have a fair show. I jedge from the defendant'stestimony that he HAS got a set of the dishes, and I also jedge, frommy experience and three years' dealings with him, that he's toopublic-spirited to keep 'em, provided he's paid four times what they'reworth. Now my idea is this; Rogers will bring those dishes down heretomorrer and we'll put 'em on exhibition in the hotel parlor. Next daywe'll have an auction and sell 'em to the highest cash bidder. And, provided there's no objection, I'll sacrifice my reputation and beauctioneer. "

So 'twas agreed to have the auction. 

Next day Adoniram heaves alongside with the dishes in a truck wagon, andthey was strung out on the tables in the parlor. And such a pawingover and gabbling you never heard. I'd been suspicious, myself, knowingRogers, but there was the set from platters to sassers, and blue enoughand ugly enough to be as antique as Mrs. Methusalem's jet earrings. The"Antiquers" handled 'em and admired 'em and p'inted to the three holesin the back of each dish--the same being proof of age--and got morecovetous every minute. But the joy was limited. As one feller said, "I'd like 'em mighty well, but what chance'll we have bidding againstgreen-back syndicates like that?" referring to the Dowager and theDuchess. 

Milo and Eddie was the most worried of all, because each of 'em had beencommissioned by their commanding officers not to let t'other family win. 

That auction was the biggest thing that ever happened at the Old Home. We had it on the lawn out back of the billiard room and folks camefrom Harniss and Orham and the land knows where. The sheds and barn wasfilled with carriages and we served thirty-two extra dinners at a dollara feed. The dishes was piled on a table and Peter T. Done his auctioneerpreaching from a kind of pulpit made out of two cracker boxes and a teachest. 

But there wa'n't any real bidding except from the Smalls and Thompsons. A few of the boarders and some of the out-of-towners took a shy long atfirst, but their bids was only ground bait. Milo and Eddie, backed bythe Dowager and the Duchess, done the real fishing. 

The price went up and up. Peter T. Whooped and pounded and all but shedtears. If he'd been burying a competition hotel keeper he couldn't havehove more soul into his work. 'Twas, "Fifty! Do I hear sixty? Sixty doI hear? Fifty dollars! THINK of it? Why, friends, this ain't a churchpound party. Look at them dishes! LOOK at 'em! Why, the pin feathers onthose blue dicky birds in the corners are worth more'n that for mattressstuffing. Do I hear sixty? Sixty I'm bid. Who says seventy?"

Milo said it, and Eddie was back at him afore he could shake the reefsout of the last syllable. She went up to a hundred, then to one hundredand twenty-five, and with every raise Adoniram Roger's smile lengthenedout. After the one-twenty-five mark the tide rose slower. Milo'd raiseit a dollar and Eddie'd jump him fifty cents. 

And just then two things happened. One was that a servant girl comerunning from the Old Home House to tell the Duchess and "Irene dear"that some swell friends of theirs from the hotel at Harniss had drivenover to call and was waiting for 'em in the parlor. The female Smallswent in, though they wa'n't joyful over it. They give Eddie his sailingorders afore they went, too. 

The other thing that happened was Bill Saltmarsh's arriving in port. Bill is an "antiquer" for revenue only. He runs an antique store overat Ostable and the prices he charges are enough to convict him withouthearing the evidence. I knew he'd come. 

Saltmarsh busts through the crowd and makes for the pulpit. He nods toPeter T. And picks up one of the plates. He looks at it first ruthercasual; then more and more careful, turning it over and taking upanother. 

"Hold on a minute, Brown, " says he. "Are THESE the dishes you'reselling?"

"Sure thing, " comes back Peter. "Think we're serving free lunch? No, sir! Those are the genuine articles, Mr. Saltmarsh, and you're cheatingthe widders and orphans if you don't put in a bid quick. One thirty-twofifty, I'm bid. Now, Saltmarsh!"

But Bill only laughed. Then he picks up another plate, looks at it, andlaughs again. 

"Good day, Brown, " says he. "Sorry I can't stop. " And off he putstowards his horse and buggy. 

Eddie Small was watching him. Milo, being on the other side of thepulpit, hadn't noticed so partic'lar. 

"Who's that?" asks Eddie, suspicious. "Does he know antiques?"

I remarked that if Bill didn't, then nobody did. 

"Look here, Saltmarsh!" says Small, catching Bill by the arm ashe shoved through the crowd. "What's the matter with thosedishes--anything?"

Bill turned and looked at him. "Why, no, " he says, slow. "They're allright--of their kind. " And off he put again. 

But Eddie wa'n't satisfied. He turns to me. "By George!" he says. "Whatis it? Does he think they're fakes?"

I didn't know, so I shook my head. Small fidgetted, looked at Peter, andthen run after Saltmarsh. Milo had just raised the bid. 

"One hundred and thirty-three" hollers Peter, fetching the tea chest abelt. "One thirty-four do I hear? Make it one thirty-three fifty. Fiftycents do I hear? Come, come! this is highway robbery, gentlemen. Mr. Small--where are you?"

But Eddie was talking to Saltmarsh. In a minute back he comes, lookingmore worried than ever. Peter T. Bawled and pounded and beckoned at himwith the mallet, but he only fidgetted--didn't know what to do. 

"One thirty-three!" bellers Peter. "One thirty-three! Oh, how can I lookmy grandmother's picture in the face after this? One thirty-three--once!One thirty-three--twice! Third and last call! One--thirty--"

Then Eddie begun to raise his hand, but 'twas too late. 

"One thirty-three and SOLD! To Mr. Milo Thompson for one hundred andthirty-three dollars!"

And just then come a shriek from the piazza; the Duchess and "Irenedear" had come out of the parlor. 

Well! Talk about crowing! The way that Thompson crowd rubbed it in onthe Smalls was enough to make you leave the dinner table. They had theservants take in them dishes, piece by piece, and every single article, down to the last butter plate, was steered straight by the Small crowd. 

As for poor Eddie, when he come up to explain why he hadn't kept onbidding, his wife put him out like he was a tin lamp. 

"Don't SPEAK to me!" says she. "Don't you DARE speak to me. "

He didn't dare. He just run up a storm sail and beat for harbor back ofthe barn. And from the piazza Milo cackled vainglorious. 

Me and Cap'n Jonadab and Peter T. Felt so sorry for Eddie, knowing whathe had coming to him from the Duchess, that we went out to see him. Hewas setting on a wrecked hencoop, looking heart-broke but puzzled. 

"'Twas that Saltmarsh made me lose my nerve, " he says. "I thought whenhe wouldn't bid there was something wrong with the dishes. And there WASsomething wrong, too. Now what was it?"

"Maybe the price was too high, " says I. 

"No, 'twa'n't that. I b'lieve yet he thought they were imitations. Oh, if they only were!"

And then, lo and behold you, around the corner comes Adoniram Rogers. I'd have bet large that whatever conscience Adoniram was born with haddried up and blown away years ago. But no; he'd resurrected a remnant. 

"Mr. Small, " stammered Mr. Rogers, "I'm sorry you feel bad about notbuying them dishes. I--I thought I'd ought to tell you--that is to say, I--Well, if you want another set, I cal'late I can get it for you--thatis, if you won't tell nobody. "

"ANOTHER set?" hollers Eddie, wide-eyed. "Anoth--Do you mean to sayyou've got MORE?"

"Why, I ain't exactly got 'em now, but my nephew John keeps a furniturestore in South Boston, and he has lots of sets like that. I bought thatone off him. "

Peter T. Brown jumps to his feet. 

"Why, you outrageous robber!" he hollers. "Didn't you say those disheswere old?"

"I never said nothing, except that they were like the plate that fellerhad on the piazza. And they was, too. YOU folks said they was old, and Ithought you'd ought to know, so--"

Eddie Small threw up both hands. "Fakes!" he hollers. "Fakes! ANDTHOMPSON PAID ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-THREE DOLLARS FOR 'EM! Boys, there's times when life's worth living. Have a drink. "

We went into the billard-room and took something; that is, Peter andEddie took that kind of something. Me and Jonadab took cigars. 

"Fellers, " said Eddie, "drink hearty. I'm going in to tell my wife. Fakedishes! And I beat Thompson on the davenport. "

He went away bubbling like a biling spring. After he was gone Rogerslooked thoughtful. 

"That's funny, too, ain't it?" he says. 

"What's funny?" we asked. 

"Why, about that sofy he calls a davenport. You see, I bought that offJohn, too, " says Adoniram. 

HIS NATIVE HEATH

I never could quite understand why the folks at Wellmouth made meselectman. I s'pose likely 'twas on account of Jonadab and me and PeterBrown making such a go of the Old Home House and turning Wellmouth Portfrom a sand fleas' paradise into a hospital where city folks couldhave their bank accounts amputated and not suffer more'n was necessary. Anyway, I was elected unanimous at town meeting, and Peter was mightyanxious for me to take the job. 

"Barzilla, " says Peter, "I jedge that a selectman is a sort of dwarfalderman. Now, I've had friends who've been aldermen, and they sayit's a sure thing, like shaking with your own dice. If you're straight, there's the honor and the advertisement; if you're crooked, there's thegraft. Either way the house wins. Go in, and glory be with you. "

So I finally agreed to serve, and the very first meeting I went to, the question of Asaph Blueworthy and the poorhouse comes up. ZoethTiddit--he was town clerk--he puts it this way:

"Gentlemen, " he says, "we have here the usual application from AsaphBlueworthy for aid from the town. I don't know's there's much use forme to read it--it's tolerable familiar. 'Suffering from lumbago andrheumatiz'--um, yes. 'Out of work'--um, just so. 'Respectfully begs thatthe board will'--etcetery and so forth. Well, gentlemen, what's yourpleasure?"

Darius Gott, he speaks first, and dry and drawling as ever. "Out ofwork, hey?" says Darius. "Mr. Chairman, I should like to ask if anybodyhere remembers the time when Ase was IN work?"

Nobody did, and Cap'n Benijah Poundberry--he was chairman at thattime--he fetches the table a welt with his starboard fist and comes outemphatic. 

"Feller members, " says he, "I don't know how the rest of you feel, butit's my opinion that this board has done too much for that lazy loaferalready. Long's his sister, Thankful, lived, we couldn't say nothing, ofcourse. If she wanted to slave and work so's her brother could livein idleness and sloth, why, that was her business. There ain't any lawagainst a body's making a fool of herself, more's the pity. But she'sbeen dead a year, and he's done nothing since but live on those that'lltrust him, and ask help from the town. He ain't sick--except sick ofwork. Now, it's my idea that, long's he's bound to be a pauper, hemight's well be treated as a pauper. Let's send him to the poorhouse. "

"But, " says I, "he owns his place down there by the shore, don't he?"

All hands laughed--that is, all but Cap'n Benijah. "Own nothing, " saysthe cap'n. "The whole rat trap, from the keel to maintruck, ain't worthmore'n three hundred dollars, and I loaned Thankful four hundred onit years ago, and the mortgage fell due last September. Not a cent ofprincipal, interest, nor rent have I got since. Whether he goes to thepoorhouse or not, he goes out of that house of mine to-morrer. A mancan smite me on one cheek and maybe I'll turn t'other, but when, afterI HAVE turned it, he finds fault 'cause my face hurts his hand, then Irise up and quit; you hear ME!"

Nobody could help hearing him, unless they was deefer than the fellerthat fell out of the balloon and couldn't hear himself strike, so allhands agreed that sending Asaph Blueworthy to the poorhouse would be agood thing. 'Twould be a lesson to Ase, and would give the poorhouse onemore excuse for being on earth. Wellmouth's a fairly prosperous town, and the paupers had died, one after the other, and no new ones had come, until all there was left in the poorhouse was old Betsy Mullen, who wasdown with creeping palsy, and Deborah Badger, who'd been keeper eversince her husband died. 

The poorhouse property was valuable, too, specially for a summercottage, being out on the end of Robbin's Point, away from the town, andhaving a fine view right across the bay. Zoeth Tiddit was a committeeof one with power from the town to sell the place, but he hadn't founda customer yet. And if he did sell it, what to do with Debby was moreor less of a question. She'd kept poorhouse for years, and had no otherhome nor no relations to go to. Everybody liked her, too--that is, everybody but Cap'n Benijah. He was down on her 'cause she was aSpiritualist and believed in fortune tellers and such. The cap'n, bein'a deacon of the Come-Outer persuasion, was naturally down on folks whowasn't broad-minded enough to see that his partic'lar crack in the roofwas the only way to crawl through to glory. 

Well, we voted to send Asaph to the poorhouse, and then I was appointeda delegate to see him and tell him he'd got to go. I wasn't enthusiasticover the job, but everybody said I was exactly the feller for the place. 

"To tell you the truth, " drawls Darius, "you, being a stranger, are theonly one that Ase couldn't talk over. He's got a tongue that's butteredon both sides and runs on ball bearings. If I should see him he'd workon my sympathies till I'd lend him the last two-cent piece in my baby'sbank. "

So, as there wa'n't no way out of it, I drove down to Asaph's thatafternoon. He lived off on a side road by the shore, in a little, run-down shanty that was as no account as he was. When I moored my horseto the "heavenly-wood" tree by what was left of the fence, I would havebet my sou'wester that I caught a glimpse of Brother Blueworthy, peekinground the corner of the house. But when I turned that corner there wasnobody in sight, although the bu'sted wash-bench, with a cranberry cratepropping up its lame end, was shaking a little, as if some one had seton it recent. 

I knocked on the door, but nobody answered. After knocking three orfour times, I tried kicking, and the second kick raised, from somewheresinside, a groan that was as lonesome a sound as ever I heard. No humannoise in my experience come within a mile of it for dead, downrightmisery--unless, maybe, it's Cap'n Jonadab trying to sing in meetingSundays. 

"Who's that?" wails Ase from 'tother side of the door. "Did anybodyknock?"

"Knock!" says I. "I all but kicked your everlasting derelict out ofwater. It's me, Wingate--one of the selectmen. Tumble up, there! I wantto talk to you. "

Blueworthy didn't exactly tumble, so's to speak, but the door opened, and he comes shuffling and groaning into sight. His face was twisted upand he had one hand spread-fingered on the small of his back. 

"Dear, dear!" says he. "I'm dreadful sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Wingate. I've been wrastling with this turrible lumbago, and I'm 'fraidit's affecting my hearing. I'll tell you--"

"Yes--well, you needn't mind, " I says; "'cordin' to common tell, youwas born with that same kind of lumbago, and it's been getting no betterfast ever since. Jest drag your sufferings out onto this bench and cometo anchor. I've got considerable to say, and I'm in a hurry. "

Well, he grunted, and groaned, and scuffled along. When he'd got plantedon the bench he didn't let up any--kept on with the misery. 

"Look here, " says I, losing patience, "when you get through with theJob business I'll heave ahead and talk. Don't let me interrupt thelamentations on no account. Finished? All right. Now, you listen to me. "

And then I told him just how matters stood. His house was to be seizedon the mortgage, and he was to move to the poorhouse next day. You neversee a man more surprised or worse cut up. Him to the poorhouse? HIM--oneof the oldest families on the Cape? You'd think he was the GrandPanjandrum. Well, the dignity didn't work, so he commenced on thelumbago; and that didn't work, neither. But do you think he give up theship? Not much; he commenced to explain why he hadn't been able to earna living and the reasons why he'd ought to have another chance. Talk!Well, if I hadn't been warned he'd have landed ME, all right. I neverheard a better sermon nor one with more long words in it. 

I actually pitied him. It seemed a shame that a feller who could arguelike that should have to go to the poorhouse; he'd ought to run a summerhotel--when the boarders kicked 'cause there was yeller-eyed beans inthe coffee he would be the one to explain that they was lucky to getbeans like that without paying extra for 'em. Thinks I, "I'm an idiot, but I'll make him one more offer. "

So I says: "See here, Mr. Blueworthy, I could use another man in thestable at the Old Home House. If you want the job you can have it. ONLY, you'll have to work, and work hard. "

Well, sir, would you believe it?--his face fell like a cook-book cake. That kind of chance wa'n't what he was looking for. He shuffled andhitched around, and finally he says: "I'll--Ill consider your offer, " hesays. 

That was too many for me. "Well, I'll be yardarmed!" says I, and wentoff and left him "considering. " I don't know what his considerationsamounted to. All I know is that next day they took him to the poorhouse. 

And from now on this yarn has got to be more or less hearsay. I'll haveto put this and that together, like the woman that made the mince meat. Some of the facts I got from a cousin of Deborah Badger's, some of themI wormed out of Asaph himself one time when he'd had a jug come downfrom the city and was feeling toler'ble philanthropic and conversationy. But I guess they're straight enough. 

Seems that, while I was down notifying Blueworthy, Cap'n Poundberryhad gone over to the poorhouse to tell the Widow Badger about her newboarder. The widow was glad to hear the news. 

"He'll be somebody to talk to, at any rate, " says she. "Poor old BetsyMullen ain't exactly what you'd call company for a sociable body. ButI'll mind what you say, Cap'n Benijah. It takes more than a slick tongueto come it over me. I'll make that lazy man work or know the reasonwhy. "

So when Asaph arrived--per truck wagon--at three o'clock the nextafternoon, Mrs. Badger was ready for him. She didn't wait to shake handsor say: "Glad to see you. " No, sir! The minute he landed she sent himout by the barn with orders to chop a couple of cords of oak slabs thatwas piled there. He groaned and commenced to develop lumbago symptoms, but she cured 'em in a hurry by remarking that her doctor's book saidvig'rous exercise was the best physic, for that kind of disease, andso he must chop hard. She waited till she heard the ax "chunk" once ortwice, and then she went into the house, figgering that she'd gained thefirst lap, anyhow. 

But in an hour or so it come over her all of a sudden that 'twas awfulquiet out by the woodpile. She hurried to the back door, and there wasAse, setting on the ground in the shade, his eyes shut and his backagainst the chopping block, and one poor lonesome slab in front of himwith a couple of splinters knocked off it. That was his afternoon'swork. 

Maybe you think the widow wa'n't mad. She tip-toed out to the wood-pile, grabbed her new boarder by the coat collar and shook him till his headplayed "Johnny Comes Marching Home" against the chopping block. 

"You lazy thing, you!" says she, with her eyes snapping. "Wake up andtell me what you mean by sleeping when I told you to work. "

"Sleep?" stutters Asaph, kind of reaching out with his mind for alife-preserver. "I--I wa'n't asleep. "

Well, I don't think he had really meant to sleep. I guess he just setdown to think of a good brand new excuse for not working, and kind ofdrowsed off. 

"You wa'n't hey?" says Deborah. "Then 'twas the best imitation ever _I_see. What WAS you doing, if 'tain't too personal a question?"

"I--I guess I must have fainted. I'm subject to such spells. You see, ma'am, I ain't been well for--"

"Yes, I know. I understand all about that. Now, you march your bootsinto that house, where I can keep an eye on you, and help me get supper. To-morrer morning you'll get up at five o'clock and chop wood tillbreakfast time. If I think you've chopped enough, maybe you'll get thebreakfast. If I don't think so you'll keep on chopping. Now, march!"

Blueworthy, he marched, but 'twa'n't as joyful a parade as an OddFellers' picnic. He could see he'd made a miscue--a clean miss, andthe white ball in the pocket. He knew, too, that a lot depended on hismaking a good impression the first thing, and instead of that he'd goneand "foozled his approach, " as that city feller said last summer whenhe ran the catboat plump into the end of the pier. Deborah, she went outinto the kitchen, but she ordered Ase to stay in the dining room and setthe table; told him to get the dishes out of the closet. 

All the time he was doing it he kept thinking about the mistake he'dmade, and wondering if there wa'n't some way to square up and get solidwith the widow. Asaph was a good deal of a philosopher, and his mottowas--so he told me afterward, that time I spoke of when he'd beeninvestigating the jug--his motto was: "Every hard shell has a soft spotsomewheres, and after you find it, it's easy. " If he could only findout something that Deborah Badger was particular interested in, thenhe believed he could make a ten-strike. And, all at once, down in thecorner of the closet, he see a big pile of papers and magazines. The oneon top was the Banner of Light, and underneath that was the MysteriousMagazine. 

Then he remembered, all of a sudden, the town talk about Debby'sbelieving in mediums and spooks and fortune tellers and such. And hecommenced to set up and take notice. 

At the supper table he was as mum as a rundown clock; just set in hischair and looked at Mrs. Badger. She got nervous and fidgety after aspell, and fin'lly bu'sts out with: "What are you staring at me likethat for?"

Ase kind of jumped and looked surprised. "Staring?" says he. "Was Istaring?"

"I should think you was! Is my hair coming down, or what is it?"

He didn't answer for a minute, but he looked over her head and thenaway acrost the room, as if he was watching something that moved. "Yourhusband was a short, kind of fleshy man, as I remember, wa'n't he?" sayshe, absent-minded like. 

"Course he was. But what in the world--"

"'Twa'n't him, then. I thought not. "

"HIM? My husband? What DO you mean?"

And then Asaph begun to put on the fine touches. He leaned acrost thetable and says he, in a sort of mysterious whisper: "Mrs. Badger, " sayshe, "do you ever see things? Not common things, but strange--shadderslike?"

"Mercy me!" says the widow. "No. Do YOU?"

"Sometimes seems's if I did. Jest now, as I set here looking at you, itseemed as if I saw a man come up and put his hand on your shoulder. "

Well, you can imagine Debby. She jumped out of her chair and whirledaround like a kitten in a fit. "Good land!" she hollers. "Where? What?Who was it?"

"I don't know who 'twas. His face was covered up; but it kind of come tome--a communication, as you might say--that some day that man was goingto marry you. "

"Land of love! Marry ME? You're crazy! I'm scart to death. "

Ase shook his head, more mysterious than ever. "I don't know, " says he. "Maybe I am crazy. But I see that same man this afternoon, when I was inthat trance, and--"

"Trance! Do you mean to tell me you was in a TRANCE out there by thewood-pile? Are you a MEDIUM?"

Well, Ase, he wouldn't admit that he was a medium exactly, but he giveher to understand that there wa'n't many mediums in this country thatcould do business 'longside of him when he was really working. 'Coursehe made believe he didn't want to talk about such things, and, likewiseof course, that made Debby all the more anxious TO talk about 'em. She found out that her new boarder was subject to trances and hadsecond-sight and could draw horoscopes, and I don't know what all. Particular she wanted to know more about that "man" that was going tomarry her, but Asaph wouldn't say much about him. 

"All I can say is, " says Ase, "that he didn't appear to me like acommon man. He was sort of familiar looking, and yet there was somethingdistinguished about him, something uncommon, as you might say. But thismuch comes to me strong: He's a man any woman would be proud to get, andsome time he's coming to offer you a good home. You won't have to keeppoorhouse all your days. "

So the widow went up to her room with what you might call a case ofdelightful horrors. She was too scart to sleep and frightened to stayawake. She kept two lamps burning all night. 

As for Asaph, he waited till 'twas still, and then he crept downstairsto the closet, got an armful of Banners of Light and MysteriousMagazines, and went back to his room to study up. Next morning there wasnothing said about wood chopping--Ase was busy making preparations todraw Debby's horoscope. 

You can see how things went after that. Blueworthy was star boarderat that poorhouse. Mrs Badger was too much interested in spooks andfortunes to think of asking him to work, and if she did hint at such athing, he'd have another "trance" and see that "man, " and 'twas all off. And we poor fools of selectmen was congratulating ourselves that AseBlueworthy was doing something toward earning his keep at last. Andthen--'long in July 'twas--Betsy Mullen died. 

One evening, just after the Fourth, Deborah and Asaph was in the diningroom, figgering out fortunes with a pack of cards, when there comes aknock at the door. The widow answered it, and there was an old chap, dressed in a blue suit, and a stunning pretty girl in what these summerwomen make believe is a sea-going rig. And both of 'em was sopping wetthrough, and as miserable as two hens in a rain barrel. 

It turned out that the man's name was Lamont, with a colonel's pennantand a million-dollar mark on the foretop of it, and the girl was hisdaughter Mabel. They'd been paying six dollars a day each for sea airand clam soup over to the Wattagonsett House, in Harniss, and eitherthe soup or the air had affected the colonel's head till he imagined hecould sail a boat all by his ownty-donty. Well, he'd sailed one acrostthe bay and got becalmed, and then the tide took him in amongst theshoals at the mouth of Wellmouth Crick, and there, owing to a mixup oftide, shoals, dark, and an overdose of foolishness, the boat had upsetand foundered and the Lamonts had waded half a mile or so to shore. Once on dry land, they'd headed up the bluff for the only port in sight, which was the poorhouse--although they didn't know it. 

The widow and Asaph made 'em as comfortable as they could; rigged 'emup in dry clothes which had belonged to departed paupers, and got 'emsomething to eat. The Lamonts was what they called "enchanted" with thewhole establishment. 

"This, " says the colonel, with his mouth full of brown bread, "isdelightful, really delightful. The New England hospitality that we readabout. So free from ostentation and conventionality. "

When you stop to think of it, you'd scurcely expect to run acrost muchostentation at the poorhouse, but, of course, the colonel didn't know, and he praised everything so like Sam Hill, that the widow was ashamedto break the news to him. And Ase kept quiet, too, you can be sure ofthat. As for Mabel, she was one of them gushy, goo-gooey kind of girls, and she was as struck with the shebang as her dad. She said the houseitself was a "perfect dear. "

And after supper they paired off and got to talking, the colonel withMrs. Badger, and Asaph with Mabel. Now, I can just imagine how Asetalked to that poor, unsuspecting young female. He sartin did love anaudience, and here was one that didn't know him nor his history, nornothing. He played the sad and mysterious. You could see that he was ablighted bud, all right. He was a man with a hidden sorrer, and the wayhe'd sigh and change the subject when it come to embarrassing questionswas enough to bring tears to a graven image, let alone a romantic girljust out of boarding school. 

Then, after a spell of this, Mabel wanted to be shown the house, so asto see the "sweet, old-fashioned rooms. " And she wanted papa to see 'em, too, so Ase led the way, like the talking man in the dime museum. Andthe way them Lamonts agonized over every rag mat, and corded bedsteadwas something past belief. When they was saying good-night--they HAD tostay all night because their own clothes wa'n't dry and those they hadon were more picturesque than stylish--Mabel turns to her father andsays she:

"Papa, dear, " she says, "I believe that at last we've found the verything we've been looking for. "

And the colonel said yes, he guessed they had. Next morning they was upearly and out enjoying the view; it IS about the best view alongshore, and they had a fit over it. When breakfast was done the Lamonts takesAsaph one side and the colonel says:

"Mr. Blueworthy, " he says, "my daughter and I am very much pleased withthe Cape and the Cape people. Some time ago we made up our minds thatif we could find the right spot we would build a summer home here. Preferably we wish to purchase a typical, old-time, Colonial homesteadand remodel it, retaining, of course, all the original old-fashionedflavor. Cost is not so much the consideration as location and the houseitself. We are--ahem!--well, frankly, your place here suits us exactly. "

"We adore it, " says Mabel, emphatic. 

"Mr. Blueworthy, " goes on the colonel, "will you sell us your home? I amprepared to pay a liberal price. "

Poor Asaph was kind of throwed on his beam ends, so's to speak. Hehemmed and hawed, and finally had to blurt out that he didn't own theplace. The Lamonts was astonished. The colonel wanted to know if itbelonged to Mrs. Badger. 

"Why, no, " says Ase. "The fact is--that is to say--you see--"

And just then the widow opened the kitchen window and called to 'em. 

"Colonel Lamont, " says she, "there's a sailboat beating up the harbor, and I think the folks on it are looking for you. "

The colonel excused himself, and run off down the hill toward the backside of the point, and Asaph was left alone with the girl. He see, Is'pose, that here was his chance to make the best yarn out of what wasbound to come out anyhow in a few minutes. So he fetched a sigh thatsounded as if 'twas racking loose the foundations and commenced. 

He asked Mabel if she was prepared to hear something that would shockher turrible, something that would undermine her confidence in humannatur'. She was a good deal upset, and no wonder, but she braced up andlet on that she guessed she could stand it. So then he told her thather dad and her had been deceived, that that house wa'n't his nor Mrs. Badger's; 'twas the Wellmouth poor farm, and he was a pauper. 

She was shocked, all right enough, but afore she had a chance to aska question, he begun to tell her the story of his life. 'Twas a finechance for him to spread himself, and I cal'late he done it to theskipper's taste. He told her how him and his sister had lived in theirlittle home, their own little nest, over there by the shore, for yearsand years. He led her out to where she could see the roof of his oldshanty over the sand hills, and he wiped his eyes and raved over it. You'd think that tumble-down shack was a hunk out of paradise; Adam andEve's place in the Garden was a short lobster 'longside of it. Then, hesaid, he was took down with an incurable disease. He tried and tried toget along, but 'twas no go. He mortgaged the shanty to a grasping moneylender--meanin' Poundberry--and that money was spent. Then his sisterpassed away and his heart broke; so they took him to the poorhouse. 

"Miss Lamont, " says he, "good-by. Sometimes in the midst of yourfashionable career, in your gayety and so forth, pause, " he says, "andgive a thought to the broken-hearted pauper who has told you his lifetragedy. "

Well, now, you take a green girl, right fresh from novels and musiclessons, and spring that on her--what can you expect? Mabel, she criedand took on dreadful. 

"Oh, Mr. Blueworthy!" says she, grabbing his hand. "I'm SO glad you toldme. I'm SO glad! Cheer up, " she says. "I respect you more than ever, andmy father and I will--"

Just then the colonel comes puffing up the hill. He looked as if he'dheard news. 

"My child, " he says in a kind of horrified whisper, "can you realizethat we have actually passed the night in the--in the ALMSHOUSE?"

Mabel held up her hand. "Hush, papa, " she says. "Hush. I know all aboutit. Come away, quick; I've got something very important to say to you. "

And she took her dad's arm and went off down the hill, mopping herpretty eyes with her handkerchief and smiling back, every once in awhile, through her tears, at Asaph. 

Now, it happened that there was a selectmen's meeting that afternoonat four o'clock. I was on hand, and so was Zoeth Tiddit and most of theothers. Cap'n Poundberry and Darius Gott were late. Zoeth was as happyas a clam at high water; he'd sold the poorhouse property that very dayto a Colonel Lamont, from Harniss, who wanted it for a summer place. 

"And I got the price we set on it, too, " says Zoeth. "But that wa'n'tthe funniest part of it. Seems's old man Lamont and his daughter wasvery much upset because Debby Badger and Ase Blueworthy would be turnedout of house and home 'count of the place being sold. The colonel washot foot for giving 'em a check for five hundred dollars to squarethings; said his daughter'd made him promise he would. Says I: 'Youcan give it to Debby, if you want to, but don't lay a copper on thatBlueworthy fraud. ' Then I told him the truth about Ase. He couldn'thardly believe it, but I finally convinced him, and he made out thecheck to Debby. I took it down to her myself just after dinner. Ase wasthere, and his eyes pretty nigh popped out of his head. 

"'Look here, ' I says to him; 'if you'd been worth a continentalyou might have had some of this. As it is, you'll be farmed outsomewheres--that's what'll happen to YOU. '"

And as Zoeth was telling this, in comes Cap'n Benijah. He was happy, too. 

"I cal'late the Lamonts must be buying all the property alongshore, "he says when he heard the news. "I sold that old shack that I tookfrom Blueworthy to that Lamont girl to-day for three hundred and fiftydollars. She wouldn't say what she wanted of it, neither, and I didn'tcare much; _I_ was glad to get rid of it. "

"_I_ can tell you what she wanted of it, " says somebody behind us. Weturned round and 'twas Gott; he'd come in. "I just met Squire Foster, "he says, "and the squire tells me that that Lamont girl come into hisoffice with the bill of sale for the property you sold her and made himdeed it right over to Ase Blueworthy, as a present from her. "

"WHAT?" says all hands, Poundberry loudest of all. 

"That's right, " said Darius. "She told the squire a long rigamaroleabout what a martyr Ase was, and how her dad was going to do some thingfor him, but that she was going to give him his home back again with herown money, money her father had given her to buy a ring with, she said, though that ain't reasonable, of course--nobody'd pay that much for aring. The squire tried to tell her what a no-good Ase was, but she frozehim quicker'n--Where you going, Cap'n Benije?"

"I'm going down to that poorhouse, " hollers Poundberry. "I'll find outthe rights and wrongs of this thing mighty quick. "

We all said we'd go with him, and we went, six in one carryall. As wehove in sight of the poorhouse a buggy drove away from it, going int'other direction. 

"That looks like the Baptist minister's buggy, " says Darius. "What onearth's he been down here for?"

Nobody could guess. As we run alongside the poorhouse door, AseBlueworthy stepped out, leading Debby Badger. She was as red as anauction flag. 

"By time, Ase Blueworthy!" hollers Cap'n Benijah, starting to get outof the carryall, "what do you mean by--Debby, what are you holding thatrascal's hand for?"

But Ase cut him short. "Cap'n Poundberry, " says he, dignified as a boywith a stiff neck, "I might pass over your remarks to me, but when youaddress my wife--"

"Your WIFE?" hollers everybody--everybody but the cap'n; he only sort ofgurgled. 

"My wife, " says Asaph. "When you men--church members, too, some ofyou--sold the house over her head, I'm proud to say that I, having ahome once more, was able to step for'ard and ask her to share it withme. We was married a few minutes ago, " he says. 

"And, oh, Cap'n Poundberry!" cried Debby, looking as if this was themost wonderful part of it--"oh, Cap'n Poundberry!" she says, "we'veknown for a long time that some man--an uncommon kind of man--was comingto offer me a home some day, but even Asaph didn't know 'twas himself;did you, Asaph?"

We selectmen talked the thing over going home, but Cap'n Benijah didn'tspeak till we was turning in at his gate. Then he fetched his knee athump with his fist, and says he, in the most disgusted tone ever Iheard:

"A house and lot for nothing, " he says, "a wife to do the work for him, and five hundred dollars to spend! Sometimes the way this world's rungives me moral indigestion. "

Which was tolerable radical for a Come-Outer to say, seems to me. 

JONESY

'Twas Peter T. Brown that suggested it, you might know. And, as likewiseyou might know, 'twas Cap'n Jonadab that done the most of the growling. 

"They ain't no sense in it, Peter, " says he. "Education's all right inits place, but 'tain't no good out of it. Why, one of my last voyagesin the schooner Samuel Emory, I had a educated cook, feller that hadgraduated from one of them correspondence schools. He had his diplomaframed and hung up on the wall of the galley along with tintypes of twoor three of his wives, and pictures cut out of the Police News, and thelike of that. And cook! Why, say! one of the fo'mast hands ate half adozen of that cook's saleratus biscuit and fell overboard. If he hadn'tbeen tangled up in his cod line, so we could haul him up by that, he'dhave been down yet. He'd never have riz of his own accord, not with thembiscuits in him. And as for his pie! the mate ate one of them bakeshoppaper plates one time, thinking 'twas under crust; and he kept sayin'how unusual tender 'twas, at that. Now, what good was education to thatcook? Why--"

"Cut it out!" says Peter T. , disgusted. "Who's talking about cooks?These fellers ain't cooks--they're--"

"I know. They're waiters. Now, there 'tis again. When I give an orderand there's any back talk, I want to understand it. You take a passel ofcollege fellers, like you want to hire for waiters. S'pose I tell oneof 'em to do something, and he answers back in Greek or Hindoo, or such. _I_ can't tell what he says. I sha'n't know whether to bang him over thehead or give him a cigar. What's the matter with the waiters we had lastyear? They talked Irish, of course, but I understood the most of that, and when I didn't 'twas safe to roll up my sleeves and begin arguing. But--"

"Oh, ring off!" says Peter. "Twenty-three!"

And so they had it, back and forth. I didn't say nothing. I knew how'twould end. If Peter T. Brown thought 'twas good judgment to hire amess of college boys for waiters, fellers who could order up the squabin pigeon-English and the ham in hog-Latin, I didn't care, so long asthe orders and boarders got filled and the payroll didn't have growingpains. I had considerable faith in Brown's ideas, and he was as set onthis one as a Brahma hen on a plaster nest-egg. 

"It'll give tone to the shebang, " says he, referring to the hotel; "andwe want to keep the Old Home House as high-toned as a ten-story organfactory. And as for education, that's a matter of taste. Me, I'd just assoon have a waiter that bashfully admitted 'Wee, my dam, ' as I would onethat pushed 'Shur-r-e, Moike!' edge-ways out of one corner of his mouthand served the lettuce on top of the lobster, from principle, to keepthe green above the red. When it comes to tone and tin, Cap'n, you trustyour Uncle Pete; he hasn't been sniffling around the tainted-money bunchall these days with a cold in his head. "

So it went his way finally, as I knew it would, and when the Old Homeopened up on June first, the college waiters was on hand. And they wasas nice a lot of boys as ever handled plates and wiped dishes for theirboard and four dollars a week. They was poor, of course, and workingtheir passage through what they called the "varsity, " but they attendedto business and wa'n't a mite set up by their learning. 

And they made a hit with the boarders, especially the women folks. Takethe crankiest old battle ship that ever cruised into breakfast withdiamond headlights showing and a pretty daughter in tow, and she wouldeat lumpy oatmeal and scorched eggs and never sound a distress signal. How could she, with one of them nice-looking gentlemanly waiters hangingover her starboard beam and purring, "Certainly, madam, " and "Two lumpsor one, madam?" into her ear? Then, too, she hadn't much time to findfault with the grub, having to keep one eye on the daughter. The amountof complaints that them college boys saved in the first fortnight wasworth their season's wages, pretty nigh. Before June was over the OldHome was full up and we had to annex a couple of next-door houses forthe left-overs. 

I was skipper for one of them houses, and Jonadab run the other. Eachof us had a cook and a waiter, a housekeeper and an up-stairs girl. My housekeeper was the boss prize in the package. Her name was MabelSeabury, and she was young and quiet and as pretty as the first bunchof Mayflowers in the spring. And a lady--whew! The first time I setopposite to her at table I made up my mind I wouldn't drink out of mysasser if I scalded the lining off my throat. 

She was city born and brought up, but she wa'n't one of your common "He!he! ain't you turrible!" lunch-counter princesses, with a head like adandelion gone to seed and a fish-net waist. You bet she wa'n't! Herdad had had money once, afore he tried to beat out Jonah and swallowthe stock exchange whale. After that he was skipper of a little societylibrary up to Cambridge, and she kept house for him. Then he died andleft her his blessing, and some of Peter Brown's wife's folks, that knewher when she was well off, got her the job of housekeeper here with us. 

The only trouble she made was first along, and that wa'n't her fault. I thought at one time we'd have to put up a wire fence to keep themcollege waiters away from her. They hung around her like a passel ofgulls around a herring boat. She was nice to 'em, too, but when you'rejust so nice to everybody and not nice enough to any special one, theprospect ain't encouraging. So they give it up, but there wa'n't a maleon the place, from old Dr. Blatt, mixer of Blatt's Burdock Bitters andBlatt's Balm for Beauty, down to the boy that emptied the ashes, whowouldn't have humped himself on all fours and crawled eight miles ifshe'd asked him to. And that includes me and Cap'n Jonadab, and we'reabout as tough a couple of women-proof old hulks as you'll find afloat. 

Jonadab took a special interest in her. It pretty nigh broke his heartto think she was running my house instead of his. He thought she'd oughtto be married and have a home of her own. 

"Well, " says I, "why don't she get married then? She could drag out andtie up any single critter of the right sex in this neighborhood withboth hands behind her back. "

"Humph!" says he. "I s'pose you'd have her marry one of thesesoup-toting college chaps, wouldn't you? Then they could live on Greekfor breakfast and Latin for dinner and warm over the leavings forsupper. No, sir! a girl hasn't no right to get married unless she getsa man with money. There's a deck-load of millionaires comes here everysummer, and I'm goin' to help her land one of 'em. It's my duty as aChristian, " says he. 

One evening, along the second week in July 'twas, I got up from thesupper-table and walked over toward the hotel, smoking, and thinkingwhat I'd missed in not having a girl like that set opposite me all theseyears. And, in the shadder of the big bunch of lilacs by the gate, I seea feller standing, a feller with a leather bag in his hand, a stranger. 

"Good evening, " says I. "Looking for the hotel, was you?"

He swung round, kind of lazy-like, and looked at me. Then I noticedhow big he was. Seemed to me he was all of seven foot high and broadaccording. And rigged up--my soul! He had on a wide, felt hat, with awhirligig top onto it, and a light checked suit, and gloves, and slungmore style than a barber on Sunday. If I'D wore them kind of duds they'dhave had me down to Danvers, clanking chains and picking straws, but onthis young chap they looked fine. 

"Good evening, " says the seven-footer, looking down and speaking to mecheerful. "Is this the Old Ladies' Home--the Old Home House, I shouldsay?"

"Yes, sir, " says I, looking up reverent at that hat. 

"Right, " he says. "Will you be good enough to tell me where I can findthe proprietor?"

"Well, " says I, "I'm him; that is, I'm one of him. But I'm afraid wecan't accommodate you, mister, not now. We ain't got a room nowheresthat ain't full. "

He knocked the ashes off his cigarette. "I'm not looking for a room, "says he, "except as a side issue. I'm looking for a job. "

"A job!" I sings out. "A JOB?"

"Yes. I understand you employ college men as waiters. I'm from Harvard, and--"

"A waiter?" I says, so astonished that I could hardly swaller. "Be you awaiter?"

"_I_ don't know. I've been told so. Our coach used to say I was the bestwaiter on the team. At any rate I'll try the experiment. "

Soon's ever I could gather myself together I reached across and tookhold of his arm. 

"Son, " says I, "you come with me and turn in. You'll feel better in themorning. I don't know where I'll put you, unless it's the bowling alley, but I guess that's your size. You oughtn't to get this way at your age. "

He laughed a big, hearty laugh, same as I like to hear. "It's straight, "he says. "I mean it. I want a job. "

"But what for? You ain't short of cash?"

"You bet!" he says. "Strapped. "

"Then, " says I, "you come with me to-night and to-morrer morning you gosomewheres and sell them clothes you've got on. You'll make more out ofthat than you will passing pie, if you passed it for a year. "

He laughed again, but he said he was bound to be a waiter and ifI couldn't help him he'd have to hunt up the other portion of theproprietor. So I told him to stay where he was, and I went off and foundPeter T. You'd ought to seen Peter stare when we hove in sight of thecandidate. 

"Thunder!" says he. "Is this Exhibit One, Barzilla? Where'd you pick upthe Chinese giant?"

I done the polite, mentioning Brown's name, hesitating on t'otherchap's. 

"Er-Jones, " says the human lighthouse. "Er-yes; Jones. "

"Glad to meet you, Mr. Jones, " says Peter. "So you want to be a waiter, do you? For how much per?"

"Oh, I don't know. I'll begin at the bottom, being a green hand. Twentya week or so; whatever you're accustomed to paying. "

Brown choked. "The figure's all right, " he says, "only it covers a monthdown here. "

"Right!" says Jones, not a bit shook up. "A month goes. "

Peter stepped back and looked him over, beginning with the tan shoes andending with the whirligig hat. 

"Jonesy, " says he, finally, "you're on. Take him to the servants'quarters, Wingate. "

A little later, when I had the chance and had Brown alone, I says tohim:

"Peter, " says I, "for the land sakes what did you hire the emperor for?A blind man could see HE wa'n't no waiter. And we don't need him anyhow;no more'n a cat needs three tails. Why--"

But he was back at me before I could wink. "Need him?" he says. "Why, Barzilla, we need him more than the old Harry needs a conscience. Takea bird's-eye view of him! Size him up! He puts all the rest of theGreek statues ten miles in the shade. If I could only manage to get hispicture in the papers we'd have all the romantic old maids in Bostondown here inside of a week; and there's enough of THEM to keep one hotelgoing till judgment. Need him? Whew!"

Next morning we was at the breakfast-table in my branch establishment, me and Mabel and the five boarders. All hands was doing their best tostart a famine in the fruit market, and Dr. Blatt was waving a bananaand cheering us with a yarn about an old lady that his Burdock Bittershad h'isted bodily out of the tomb. He was at the most exciting part, the bitters and the undertaker coming down the last lap neck and neck, and an even bet who'd win the patient, when the kitchen door opens andin marches the waiter with the tray full of dishes of "cereal. " Seemsto me 'twas chopped hay we had that morning--either that or shavings; Ialways get them breakfast foods mixed up. 

But 'twa'n't the hay that made everybody set up and take notice. 'Twasthe waiter himself. Our regular steward was a spindling little critterwith curls and eye-glasses who answered to the hail of "Percy. " Thisfellow clogged up the scenery like a pet elephant, and was down in theshipping list as "Jones. "

The doc left his invalid hanging on the edge of the grave, and stoppedand stared. Old Mrs. Bounderby h'isted the gold-mounted double spyglassshe had slung round her neck and took an observation. Her daughter"Maizie" fetched a long breath and shut her eyes, like she'd seen herfinish and was resigned to it. 

"Well, Mr. Jones, " says I, soon's I could get my breath, "this is kindof unexpected, ain't it? Thought you was booked for the main deck. "

"Yes, sir, " he says, polite as a sewing-machine agent, "I was, but Percyand I have exchanged. Cereal this morning, madam?"

Mrs. Bounderby took her measure of shavings and Jones's measure at thesame time. She had him labeled "Danger" right off; you could tell thatby the way she spread her wings over "Maizie. " But I wa'n't watching herjust then. I was looking at Mabel Seabury--looking and wondering. 

The housekeeper was white as the tablecloth. She stared at the Jonesman as if she couldn't believe her eyes, and her breath come short andquick. I thought sure she was going to cry. And what she ate of thatmeal wouldn't have made a lunch for a hearty humming-bird. 

When 'twas finished I went out on the porch to think things over. Thedining room winder was open and Jonesy was clearing the table. All of asudden I heard him say, low and earnest:

"Well, aren't you going to speak to me?"

The answer was in a girl's voice, and I knew the voice. It said:

"You! YOU! How COULD you? Why did you come?"

"You didn't think I could stay away, did you?"

"But how did you know I was here? I tried so hard to keep it a secret. "

"It took me a month, but I worked it out finally. Aren't you glad to seeme?"

She burst out crying then, quiet, but as if her heart was broke. 

"Oh!" she sobs. "How could you be so cruel! And they've been so kind tome here. "

I went away then, thinking harder than ever. At dinner Jonesy done thewaiting, but Mabel wa'n't on deck. She had a headache, the cook said, and was lying down. 'Twas the same way at supper, and after supper PeterBrown comes to me, all broke up, and says he:

"There's merry clink to pay, " he says. "Mabel's going to leave. "

"No?" says I. "She ain't neither!"

"Yes, she is. She says she's going to-morrer. She won't tell me why, andI've argued with her for two hours. She's going to quit, and I'd ratherenough sight quit myself. What'll we do?" says he. 

I couldn't help him none, and he went away, moping and miserable. Allround the place everybody was talking about the "lovely" new waiter, and to hear the girls go on you'd think the Prince of Wales had landed. Jonadab was the only kicker, and he said 'twas bad enough afore, butnow that new dude had shipped, 'twa'n't the place for a decent, self-respecting man. 

"How you goin' to order that Grand Panjandrum around?" he says. "Greatland of Goshen! I'd as soon think of telling the Pope of Rome to emptya pail of swill as I would him. Why don't he stay to home and be atailor's sign or something? Not prance around here with his high-tonedairs. I'm glad you've got him, Barzilla, and not me. "

Well, most of that was plain jealousy, so I didn't contradict. BesidesI was too busy thinking. By eight o'clock I'd made up my mind and I wenthunting for Jones. 

I found him, after a while, standing by the back door and staring up atthe chamber winders as if he missed something. I asked him to come alongwith me. Told him I had a big cargo of talk aboard, and wouldn't be ableto cruise on an even keel till I'd unloaded some of it. So he fell intomy wake, looking puzzled, and in a jiffy we was planted in the rockingchairs up in my bedroom. 

"Look here, " says I, "Mr. --Mr. --"

"Jones, " says he. 

"Oh, yes--Jones. It's a nice name. "

"I remember it beautifully, " says he, smiling. 

"All right, Mr. Jones. Now, to begin with, we'll agree that it ain'tnone of my darn business, and I'm an old gray-headed nosey, and the likeof that. But, being that I AM old--old enough to be your dad, thoughthat's my only recommend for the job--I'm going to preach a littlesermon. My text is found in the Old Home Hotel, Wellmouth, first houseon the left. It's Miss Seabury, " says I. 

He was surprised, I guess, but he never turned a hair. "Indeed?" hesays. "She is the--the housekeeper, isn't she?"

"She was, " says I, "but she leaves to-morrer morning. "

THAT hit him between wind and water. 

"No?" he sings out, setting up straight and staring at me. "Not really?"

"You bet, " I says. "Now down in this part of the chart we've come tothink more of that young lady than a cat does of the only kitten leftout of the bag in the water bucket. Let me tell you about her. "

So I went ahead, telling him how Mabel had come to us, why she come, howwell she was liked, how much she liked us, and a whole lot more. I guesshe knew the most of it, but he was too polite not to act interested. 

"And now, all at once, " says I, "she gives up being happy and well andcontented, and won't eat, and cries, and says she's going to leave. There's a reason, as the advertisement folks say, and I'm going to makea guess at it. I believe it calls itself Jones. "

His under jaw pushed out a little and his eyebrows drew together. Butall he said was, "Well?"

"Yes, " I says. "And now, Mr. Jones, I'm old, as I said afore, and noseymaybe, but I like that girl. Perhaps I might come to like you, too; youcan't tell. Under them circumstances, and with the understanding thatit didn't go no farther, maybe you might give me a glimpse of the layof the land. Possibly I might have something to say that would help. I'mfairly white underneath, if I be sunburned. What do you think about it?"

He didn't answer right off; seemed to be chewing it over. After a spellhe spoke. 

"Mr. Wingate, " says he, "with the understanding that you mentioned, Idon't mind supposing a case. Suppose you was a chap in college. Supposeyou met a girl in the vicinity that was--well, was about the best ever. Suppose you came to find that life wasn't worth a continental withoutthat girl. Then suppose you had a dad with money, lots of money. Supposethe old fo--the gov'nor, I mean--without even seeing her or evenknowing her name or a thing about her, said no. Suppose you and the oldgentleman had a devil of a row, and broke off for keeps. Then supposethe girl wouldn't listen to you under the circumstances. Talked rotabout 'wasted future' and 'throwing your life away' and so on. Suppose, when you showed her that you didn't care a red for futures, she ranaway from you and wouldn't tell where she'd gone. Suppose--well, I guessthat's enough supposing. I don't know why I'm telling you these things, anyway. "

He stopped and scowled at the floor, acting like he was sorry he spoke. I pulled at my pipe a minute or so and then says I:

"Hum!" I says, "I presume likely it's fair to suppose that this breakwith the old gent is for good?"

He didn't answer, but he didn't need to; the look on his face wasenough. 

"Yes, " says I. "Well, it's likewise to be supposed that the idea--theeventual idea--is marriage, straight marriage, hey?"

He jumped out of his chair. "Why, damn you!" he says. "I'll--"

"All right. Set down and be nice. I was fairly sure of my soundings, butit don't do no harm to heave the lead. I ask your pardon. Well, what yougoing to support a wife on--her kind of a wife? A summer waiter's job attwenty a month?"

He set down, but he looked more troubled than ever. I was sorry for him;I couldn't help liking the boy. 

"Suppose she keeps her word and goes away, " says I. "What then?"

"I'll go after her. "

"Suppose she still sticks to her principles and won't have you? Where'llyou go, then?"

"To the hereafter, " says he, naming the station at the end of the route. 

"Oh, well, there's no hurry about that. Most of us are sure of a freeone-way pass to that port some time or other, 'cording to the parson'stell. See here, Jones; let's look at this thing like a couple of men, not children. You don't want to keep chasing that girl from pillar topost, making her more miserable than she is now. And you ain't in noposition to marry her. The way to show a young woman like her that youmean business and are going to be wuth cooking meals for is to get thebest place you can and start in to earn a living and save money. Now, Mr. Brown's father-in-law is a man by the name of Dillaway, Dillaway ofthe Consolidated Cash Stores. He'll do things for me if I ask him to, and I happen to know that he's just started a branch up to Providenceand is there now. Suppose I give you a note to him, asking him, as afavor to me, to give you the best job he can. He'll do it, I know. Afterthat it's up to you. This is, of course, providing that you start forProvidence to-morrer morning. What d'you say?"

He was thinking hard. "Suppose I don't make good?" he says. "I neverworked in my life. And suppose she--"

"Oh, suppose your granny's pet hen hatched turkeys, " I says, gettingimpatient, "I'll risk your making good. I wa'n't a first mate, shippingfo'mast hands ten years, for nothing. I can generally tell beet greensfrom cabbage without waiting to smell 'em cooking. And as for her, itseems to me that a girl who thinks enough of a feller to run away fromhim so's he won't spile his future, won't like him no less for beingwilling to work and wait for her. You stay here and think it over. I'mgoing out for a spell. "

When I come back Jonesy was ready for me. 

"Mr. Wingate, " says he, "it's a deal. I'm going to go you, though Ithink you're plunging on a hundred-to-one shot. Some day I'll tell youmore about myself, maybe. But now I'm going to take your advice andthe position. I'll do my best, and I must say you're a brick. Thanksawfully. "

"Good enough!" I says. "Now you go and tell her, and I'll write theletter to Dillaway. "

So the next forenoon Peter T. Brown was joyful all up one side becauseMabel had said she'd stay, and mournful all down the other because hispet college giant had quit almost afore he started. I kept my mouthshut, that being the best play I know of, nine cases out of ten. 

I went up to the depot with Jonesy to see him off. 

"Good-by, old man, " he says, shaking hands. "You'll write me once in awhile, telling me how she is, and--and so on?"

"Bet you!" says I. "I'll keep you posted up. And let's hear how youtackle the Consolidated Cash business. "

July and the first two weeks in August moped along and everything at theOld Home House kept about the same. Mabel was in mighty good spirits, for her, and she got prettier every day. I had a couple of letters fromJones, saying that he guessed he could get bookkeeping through his skullin time without a surgical operation, and old Dillaway was down over oneSunday and was preaching large concerning the "find" my candidate wasfor the Providence branch. So I guessed I hadn't made no mistake. 

I had considerable fun with Cap'n Jonadab over his not landing a richhusband for the Seabury girl. Looked like the millionaire crop was goingto be a failure that summer. 

"Aw, belay!" says he, short as baker's pie crust. "The season ain't overyet. You better take a bath in the salt mack'rel kag; you're too freshto keep this hot weather. "

Talking "husband" to him was like rubbing pain-killer on a scalded pup, so I had something to keep me interested dull days. But one morning hecomes to me, excited as a mouse at a cat show, and says he:

"Ah, ha! what did I tell you? I've got one!"

"I see you have, " says I. "Want me to send for the doctor?"

"Stop your foolishing, " he says. "I mean I've got a millionaire. He'scoming to-night, too. One of the biggest big-bugs there is in New York. Ah, ha! what did I tell you?"

He was fairly boiling over with gloat, but from between the bubbles Imanaged to find out that the new boarder was a big banker from NewYork, name of Van Wedderburn, with a barrel of cash and a hogshead ofdyspepsy. He was a Wall Street "bear, " and a steady diet of lamb withmint sass had fetched him to where the doctors said 'twas lay off fortwo months or be laid out for keeps. 

"And I've fixed it that he's to stop at your house, Barzilla, " crowsJonadab. "And when he sees Mabel--well, you know what she's done to theother men folks, " he says. 

"Humph!" says I, "maybe he's got dyspepsy of the heart along with theother kind. She might disagree with him. What makes you so cock sartin?"

"'Cause he's a widower, " he says. "Them's the softest kind. "

"Well, you ought to know, " I told him. "You're one yourself. But, from what I've heard, soft things are scarce in Wall Street. Bet youseventy-five cents to a quarter it don't work. "

He wouldn't take me, having scruples against betting--except when hehad the answer in his pocket. But he went away cackling joyful, and thatnight Van Wedderburn arrived. 

Van was a substantial-looking old relic, built on the lines of theBoston State House, broad in the beam and with a shiny dome on top. Buthe could qualify for the nervous dyspepsy class all right, judgingby his language to the depot-wagon driver. When he got through makingremarks because one of his trunks had been forgot, that driver'squotation, according to Peter T. , had "dropped to thirty cents, with asecond assessment called. " I jedged the meals at our table would be asagreeable as a dog-fight. 

However, 'twas up to me, and I towed him in and made him acquainted withMabel. She wa'n't enthusiastic--having heard some of the driver sermon, I cal'late--until I mentioned his name. Then she gave a little gasplike. When Van had gone up to his rooms, puffing like a donkey-engyneand growling 'cause there wa'n't no elevators, she took me by the armand says she:

"WHAT did you say his name was, Mr. Wingate?"

"Van Wedderburn, " says I. "The New York millionaire one. "

"Not of Van Wedderburn & Hamilton, the bankers?" she asks, eager. 

"That's him, " says I. "Why? Do you know him? Did his ma used to dowashing at your house?"

She laughed, but her face was all lit up and her eyes fairly shone. Icould have--but there! never mind. 

"Oh, no, " she says, "I don't know him, but I know of him--everybodydoes. "

Well, everybody did, that's a fact, and the way Marm Bounderby andMaizie was togged out at the supper-table was a sin and a shame. And theway they poured gush over that bald-headed broker was enough to make himslip out of his chair. Talk about "fishers of men"! them Bounderbys wasa whole seiner's crew in themselves. 

But what surprised me was Mabel Seabury. She was dressed up, too; notin the Bounderbys' style--collar-bones and diamonds--but in plain whitewith lace fuzz. If she wa'n't peaches and cream, then all you need islettuce to make me a lobster salad. 

And she was as nice to Van as if he was old Deuteronomy out of theBible. He set down to that meal with a face on him like a pair ofnutcrackers, and afore 'twas over he was laughing and eating apple pieand telling funny yarns about robbing his "friends" in the Street. Ijudged he'd be sorry for it afore morning, but I didn't care for that. Iwas kind of worried myself; didn't understand it. 

And I understood it less and less as the days went by. If she'd beenMaizie Bounderby, with two lines in each hand and one in her teeth, shecouldn't have done more to hook that old stock-broker. She cooked littlespecial dishes for his dyspepsy to play with, and set with him on thepiazza evenings, and laughed at his jokes, and the land knows what. Inside of a fortni't he was a gone goose, which wa'n't surprising--everyother man being in the same fix--but 'TWAS surprising to see her helpingthe goneness along. All hands was watching the game, of course, and itpretty nigh started a mutiny at the Old Home. The Bounderbys packedup and lit out in ten days, and none of the other women would speakto Mabel. They didn't blame poor Mr. Van, you understand. 'Twas allher--"low, designing thing!"

And Jonadab! he wa'n't fit to live with. The third forenoon after VanWedderburn got there he come around and took the quarter bet. And theway he crowed over me made my hands itch for a rope's end. Finally Iowned up to myself that I'd made a mistake; the girl was a whitewashedtombstone and the whitewash was rubbing thin. That night I dropped aline to poor Jonesy at Providence, telling him that, if he could geta day off, maybe he'd better come down to Wellmouth, and see to hisfences; somebody was feeding cows in his pasture. 

The next day was Labor Day, and what was left of the boarders was goingfor a final picnic over to Baker's Grove at Ostable. We went, threecatboats full of us, and Van and Mabel Seabury was in the same boat. Wemade the grove all right, and me and Jonadab had our hands full, bakingclams and chasing spiders out of the milk, and doing all the chores thatmakes a picnic so joyfully miserable. When the dinner dishes was washedI went off by myself to a quiet bunch of bayberry bushes half a milefrom the grove and laid down to rest, being beat out. 

I guess I fell asleep, and what woke me was somebody speaking close by. I was going to get up and clear out, not being in the habit of listeningto other folks' affairs, but the very first words I heard showed me that'twas best, for the feelings of all concerned, to lay still and keep onwith my nap. 

"Oh, no!" says Mabel Seabury, dreadful nervous and hurried-like; "oh, no! Mr. Van Wedderburn, please don't say any more. I can't listen toyou, I'm so sorry. "

"Do you mean that--really mean it?" asks Van, his voice rather shakyand seemingly a good deal upset. "My dear young lady, I realize that I'mtwice your age and more, and I suppose that I was an old fool to hope;but I've had trouble lately, and I've been very lonely, and you havebeen so kind that I thought--I did hope--I--Can't you?"

"No, " says she, more nervous than ever, and shaky, too, but decided. "No! Oh, NO! It's all my fault. I wanted you to like me; I wanted you tolike me very much. But not this way. I'm--I'm--so sorry. Please forgiveme. "

She walked on then, fast, and toward the grove, and he followed, slashing at the weeds with his cane, and acting a good deal as if he'dlike to pick up his playthings and go home. When they was out of sight Iset up and winked, large and comprehensive, at the scenery. It looked tome like I was going to collect Jonadab's quarter. 

That night as I passed the lilac bushes by the gate, somebody steps outand grabs my arm. I jumped, looked up, and there, glaring down at me outof the clouds, was friend Jones from Providence, R. I. 

"Wingate, " he whispers, fierce, "who is the man? And where is he?"

"Easy, " I begs. "Easy on that arm. I might want to use it again. Whatman?"

"That man you wrote me about. I've come down here to interview him. Confound him! Who is he?"

"Oh, it's all right now, " says I. "There was an old rooster from NewYork who was acting too skittish to suit me, but I guess it's all off. His being a millionaire and a stock-jobber was what scart me fust along. He's a hundred years old or so; name of Van Wedderburn. "

"WHAT?" he says, pinching my arm till I could all but feel his thumb andfinger meet. "What? Stop joking. I'm not funny to-night. "

"It's no joke, " says I, trying to put my arm together again. "VanWedderburn is his name. 'Course you've heard of him. Why! there he isnow. "

Sure enough, there was Van, standing like a statue of misery on thefront porch of the main hotel, the light from the winder shining full onhim. Jonesy stared and stared. 

"Is that the man?" he says, choking up. "Was HE sweet on Mabel?"

"Sweeter'n a molasses stopper, " says I. "But he's going away in a day orso. You don't need to worry. "

He commenced to laugh, and I thought he'd never stop. 

"What's the joke?" I asks, after a year or so of this foolishness. "Letme in, won't you? Thought you wa'n't funny to-night. "

He stopped long enough to ask one more question. "Tell me, for theLord's sake!" says he. "Did she know who he was?"

"Sartin, " says I. "So did every other woman round the place. You'd thinkso if--"

He walked off then, laughing himself into a fit. "Good night, old man, "he says, between spasms. "See you later. No, I don't think I shall worrymuch. "

If he hadn't been so big I cal'lated I'd have risked a kick. A man hatesto be made a fool of and not know why. 

A whole lot of the boarders had gone on the evening train, and at ourhouse Van Wedderburn was the only one left. He and Mabel and me was thefull crew at the breakfast-table the follering morning. The fruit seasonwas a quiet one. I done all the talking there was; every time the brokerand the housekeeper looked at each other they turned red. 

Finally 'twas "chopped-hay" time, and in comes the waiter with thetray. And again we had a surprise, just like the one back in July. Percywa'n't on hand, and Jonesy was. 

But the other surprise wa'n't nothing to this one. The Seabury girl wasmightily set back, but old Van was paralyzed. His eyes and mouth openedand kept on opening. 

"Cereal, sir?" asks Jones, polite as ever. 

"Why! why, you--you rascal!" hollers Van Wedderburn. "What are you doinghere?"

"I have a few days' vacation from my position at Providence, sir, "answers Jones. "I'm a waiter at present. "

"Why, ROBERT!" exclaims Mabel Seabury. 

Van swung around like he was on a pivot. "Do you know HIM?" he pants, wild as a coot, and pointing. 

'Twas the waiter himself that answered. 

"She knows me, father, " he says. "In fact she is the young lady I toldyou about last spring; the one I intend to marry. "

Did you ever see the tide go out over the flats? Well, that's the waythe red slid down off old Van's bald head and across his cheeks. But itcame back again like an earthquake wave. He turned to Mabel once more, and if ever there was a pleading "Don't tell" in a man's eyes, 'twas inhis. 

"Cereal, sir?" asks Robert Van Wedderburn, alias "Jonesy. "

Well, I guess that's about all. Van Senior took it enough sight moregraceful than you'd expect, under the circumstances. He went straightup to his room and never showed up till suppertime. Then he marches towhere Mabel and his son was, on the porch, and says he:

"Bob, " he says, "if you don't marry this young lady within a month I'lldisown you, for good this time. You've got more sense than I thought. Blessed if I see who you inherit it from!" says he, kind of to himself. 

Jonadab ain't paid me the quarter yet. He says the bet was that she'dland a millionaire, and a Van Wedderburn, afore the season ended, andshe did; so he figgers that he won the bet. Him and me got wedding cardsa week ago, so I suppose "Jonesy" and Mabel are on their honeymoonnow. I wonder if she's ever told her husband about what I heard in thebayberry bushes. Being the gamest sport, for a woman, that ever I see, I'll gamble she ain't said a word about it. 

THE END