Mr. Wingate stopped and roared a greeting to Captain Hiram Baker, who was passing the open door of the waiting room.

“Hello, there, Hime!” he shouted. “Come up in here! What, are you too proud to speak to common folks?”

Captain Hiram entered. “Hello!” he said. “You look like a busy gang, for sure. What you doin'—seatin' chairs?”

“Just now we're automobilin',” observed Captain Sol. “Set down, Hiram.”

“Automobilin'?” repeated the new arrival, evidently puzzled.

“Sartin. Barzilla's takin' us out. Go on, Barzilla.”

Mr. Wingate smiled broadly. “Well,” he began, “we HAVE just about reached the part where I went autoin'. The widow and me and Jonadab.”

“Jonadab!” shouted Stitt. “I thought you said—”

“I know what I said. But we went auto ridin' just the same.

“'Twas Henry G. Bradbury that took us out, him and his bran-new big tourin' car. You see, he landed to board with us the next day after Henrietta come—this Henry G. did—and he was so quiet and easy spoken and run his car so slow that even a pizen auto hater like Jonadab couldn't take much offense at him. He wa'n't very well, he said, subject to some kind of heart attacks, and had come to the Old Home for rest.

“Him and the Cap'n had great arguments about the sins of automobilin'. Jonadab was sot on the idee that nine folks out of ten hadn't machine sense enough to run a car. Bradbury, he declared that that was a fact with the majority of autos, but not with his. 'Why, a child could run it,' says he. 'Look here, Cap'n: To start it you just do this. To stop it you do so and so. To make her go slow you haul back on this lever. To make her go faster you shove down this one. And as for steerin'—well, a man that's handled the wheels of as many catboats as you have would simply have a picnic. I'm in entire sympathy with your feelin's against speeders and such—I'd be a constable if I was in your shoes—but this is a gentleman's car and runs like one.'

“All Jonadab said was 'Bosh!' and 'Humph!' but he couldn't help actin' interested, particular as Mrs. Bassett kept him alongside of the machine and was so turrible interested herself. And when, this partic'lar afternoon, Henry G. invites us all to go out with him for a little 'roll around,' the widow was so tickled and insisted so that he just HAD to go; he didn't dast say no.

“Somehow or 'nother—I ain't just sure yet how it happened—the seatin' arrangements was made like this: Jonadab and Bradbury on the front seat, and me and Henrietta in the stuffed cockpit astern. We rolled out and purred along the road, smooth as a cat trottin' to dinner. No speedin', no joltin', no nothin'. 'TWAS a 'gentleman's car'; there wa'n't no doubt about that.

“We went 'way over to Bayport and Orham and beyond. And all the time Bradbury kept p'intin' out the diff'rent levers to Jonadab and tellin' him how to work 'em. Finally, after we'd headed back, he asked Jonadab to take the wheel and steer her a spell. Said his heart was feelin' sort of mean and 'twould do him good to rest.

“Jonadab said no, emphatic and more'n average ugly, but Henry G. kept beggin' and pleadin', and pretty soon the widow put in her oar. He must do it, to please her. He had SAID he could do it—had told her so—and now he must make good. Why, when Mr. Loveland—

“'All right,' snarls Jonadab. 'I'll try. But if ever—'

“'Hold on!' says I. 'Here's where I get out.'

“However, they wouldn't let me, and the Cap'n took the wheel. His jaw was set and his hands shakin', but he done it. Hettie had give her orders and she was skipper.

“For a consider'ble spell we just crawled. Jonadab was steerin' less crooked every minute and it tickled him; you could see that.

“'Answers her hellum tiptop, don't she?' he says.

“'Bet your life!' says Bradbury. 'Better put on a little more speed, hadn't we?'”

He put it on himself, afore the new pilot could stop him, and we commenced to move.

“'When you want to make her jump,' he says, you press down on that with your foot, and you shove the spark back.'

“'Shut up!' howls Jonadab. 'Belay! Don't you dast to touch that. I'm scart to death as 'tis. Here! you take this wheel.'

“But he wouldn't, and we went on at a good clip. For a green hand the Cap'n was leavin' a pretty straight wake.

“'Gosh!' he says, after a spell; 'I b'lieve I'm kind of gettin' the hang of the craft.'

“'Course you are,' says Bradbury. 'I told—Oh!'

“He straightens up, grabs at his vest, and slumps down against the back of the seat.

“'What IS it?' screams the widow. 'Oh, what IS it, Mr. Bradbury?'

“He answers, plucky, but toler'ble faintlike. My heart!' he gasps. 'I—I'm afraid I'm goin' to have one of my attacks. I must get to a doctor quick.'

“'Doctor!' I sings out. 'Great land of love! there ain't a doctor nigher than Denboro, and that's four mile astern.'

“'Never mind,' cries the Bassett woman. 'We must go there, then. Turn around, Jonadab! Turn around at once! Mr. Bradbury—'

“But poor Henry G. was curled up against the cushions and we couldn't get nothin' out of him but groans. And all the time we was sailin' along up the road.

“'Turn around, Jonadab!' orders Henrietta. 'Turn around and go for the doctor!'

“Jonadab's hands was clutched on that wheel, and his face was white as his rubber collar.

“'Jerushy!' he groans desperate, 'I—I don't know HOW to turn around.'

“'Then stop, you foolhead!' I bellers. 'Stop where you be!'

“And he moans—almost cryin' he was: 'I—I've forgotten how to STOP.'

“Talk about your situations! If we wa'n't in one then I miss my guess. Every minute we was sinkin' Denboro below the horizon.

“'We MUST get to a doctor,' says the widow. 'Where is there another one, Mr. Wingate?'

“'The next one's in Bayport,' says I, 'and that's ten mile ahead if it's a foot.'

“However, there wa'n't nothin' else for it, so toward Bayport we put. Bradbury groaned once in a while, and Mrs. Bassett got nervous.

“'We'll never get there at this rate,' says she. 'Go faster, Jonadab. Faster! Press down on—on that thing he told you to. Please! for MY sake.'

“'Don't you—' I begun; but 'twas too late. He pressed, and away we went. We was eatin' up the road now, I tell you, and though I was expectin' every minute to be my next, I couldn't help admirin' the way the Cap'n steered. And, as for him, he was gettin' more and more set up and confident.

“'She handles like a yacht, Barzilla,' he grunts, between his teeth. 'See me put her around the next buoy ahead there. Hey! how's that?'

“The next 'buoy' was a curve in the road, and we went around it beautiful. So with the next and the next and the next. Bayport wa'n't so very fur ahead. All to once another dreadful thought struck me.

“'Look here!' I yells. 'How in time are we goin' to stop when we—OW!'

“The Bassett woman had pinched my arm somethin' savage. I looked at her, and she was scowlin' and shakin' her head.

“'S-sh-sh!' she whispers. 'Don't disturb him. He'll be frightened and—'

“'Frightened! Good heavens to Betsy! I cal'late he won't be the only one that's fri—'

“But she looked so ugly that I shut up prompt, though I done a heap of thinkin'. On we went and, as we turned the next 'buoy,' there, ahead of us, was another auto, somethin' like ours, with only one person in it, a man, and goin' in the same direction we was, though not quite so fast.

“Then I WAS scart. 'Hi, Jonadab!' I sings out. 'Heave to! Come about! Shorten sail! Do you want to run him down? Look OUT!'

“I might as well have saved my breath. Heavin' to and the rest of it wa'n't included in our pilot's education. On we went, same as ever. I don't know what might have happened if the widow hadn't kept her head. She leaned over the for'ard rail of the after cockpit and squeezed a rubber bag that was close to Jonadab's starboard arm. It was j'ined to the fog whistle, I cal'late, 'cause from under our bows sounded a beller like a bull afoul of a barb-wire fence.

“The feller in t'other car turned his head and looked. Then he commenced to sheer off to wind'ard so's to let us pass. But all the time he kept lookin' back and starin' and, as we got nigher, and I could see him plainer through the dust, he looked more and more familiar. 'Twas somebody I knew.

“Then I heard a little grunt, or gasp, from Cap'n Jonadab. He was leanin' for'ard over the wheel, starin' at the man in the other auto. The nigher we got, the harder he stared; and the man in front was actin' similar in regards to him. And, all to once, the head car stopped swingin' off to wind'ard, turned back toward the middle of the road, and begun to go like smoke. The next instant I felt our machine fairly jump beneath me. I looked at Jonadab's foot. 'Twas pressed hard down on the speed lever.

“'You crazy loon!' I screeched. 'You—you—you—Stop it! Take your foot off that! Do you want to—!'

“I was climbin' over the back of the front seat, my knee pretty nigh on Bradbury's head. But, would you believe it, that Jonadab man let go of the wheel with one hand—let GO of it, mind you—and give me a shove that sent me backward in Henrietta Bassett's lap.

“'Barzilla!' he growled, between his teeth, 'you set where you be and keep off the quarterdeck. I'm runnin' this craft. I'll beat that Loveland this time or run him under, one or t'other!'

“As sure as I'm alive this minute, the man in the front car was Tobias Loveland!

“And from then on—Don't talk! I dream about it nights and wake up with my arms around the bedpost. I ain't real sure, but I kind of have an idee that the bedpost business comes from the fact that I was huggin' the widow some of the time. If I did, 'twa'n't knowin'ly, and she never mentioned it afterwards. All I can swear to is clouds of dust, and horns honkin', and telegraph poles lookin' like teeth in a comb, and Jonadab's face set as the Day of Judgment.

“He kept his foot down on the speed place as if 'twas glued. He shoved the 'spark'—whatever that is—'way back. Every once in a while he yelled, yelled at the top of his lungs. What he yelled hadn't no sense to it. Sometimes you'd think that he was drivin' a horse and next that he was handlin' a schooner in a gale.

“'Git dap!' he'd whoop. 'Go it, you cripples! Keep her nose right in the teeth of it! She's got the best of the water, so let her bile! Whe-E-E!'

“We didn't stop at Bayport. Our skipper had made other arrangements. However, the way I figgered it, we was long past needin' a doctor, and you can get an undertaker 'most anywhere. We went through the village like a couple of shootin' stars, Tobias about a length ahead, his hat blowed off, his hair—what little he's got—streamin' out behind, and that blessed red buzz wagon of his fairly skimmin' the hummocks and jumpin' the smooth places. And right astern of him comes Jonadab, hangin' to the wheel, HIS hat gone, his mouth open, and fillin' the dust with yells and coughs.

“You could see folks runnin' to doors and front gates; but you never saw 'em reach where they was goin'—time they done that we was somewheres round the next bend. A pullet run over us once—yes, I mean just that. She clawed the top of the widow's bunnit as we slid underneath her, and by the time she lit we was so fur away she wa'n't visible to the naked eye. Bradbury—who'd got better remarkable sudden—was pawin' at Jonadab's arm, tryin' to make him ease up; but he might as well have pawed the wind. As for Henrietta Bassett, she was acrost the back of the front seat tootin' the horn for all she was wuth. And curled down in a heap on the cockpit floor was a fleshy, sea-farin' person by the name of Barzilla Wingate, sufferin' from chills and fever.

“I think 'twas on the long stretch of the Trumet road that we beat Tobias. I know we passed somethin' then, though just what I ain't competent to testify. All I'm sure of is that, t'other side of Bayport village, the landscape got some less streaked and you could most gen'rally separate one house from the next.

“Bradbury looked at Henrietta and smiled, a sort of sickly smile. She was pretty pale, but she managed to smile back. I got up off the floor and slumped on the cushions. As for Cap'n Jonadab Wixon, he'd stopped yellin', but his face was one broad, serene grin. His mouth, through the dust and the dirt caked around it, looked like a rain gully in a sand-bank. And, occasional, he crowed, hoarse but vainglorious.

“'Did you see me?' he barked. 'Did you notice me lick him? He'll laugh at me, will he?—him and his one-horse tin cart! Ho! HO! Why, you'd think he was settin' down to rest! I've got him where I want him now! Ho, ho! Say, Henrietta, did you go swift as you—? Land sakes! Mr. Bradbury, I forgot all about you. And I—I guess we must have got a good ways past the doctor's place.'

“Bradbury said never mind. He felt much better, and he cal'lated he'd do till we fetched the Old Home dock. He'd take the wheel, now, he guessed.

“But, would you b'lieve it, that fool Jonadab wouldn't let him! He was used to the ship now, he said, and, if 'twas all the same to Henry G. and Hettie, he'd kind of like to run her into port.

“'She answers her hellum fine,' he says. 'After a little practice I cal'late I could steer—'

“'Steer!' sings out Bradbury. 'STEER! Great Caesar's ghost! I give you my word, Cap'n Wixon, I never saw such handlin' of a machine as you did goin' through Bayport, in my life. You're a wonder!'

“'Um-hm,' says Jonadab contented. 'I've steered a good many vessels in my time, through traffic and amongst the shoals, and never run afoul of nothin' yet. I don't see much diff'rence on shore—'cept that it's a little easier.'

“EASIER! Wouldn't that—Well, what's the use of talkin'?

“We got to the Old Home House safe and sound; Jonadab, actin' under Bradbury's orders, run her into the yard, slowin' up and stoppin' at the front steps slick as grease. He got out, his chest swelled up like a puffin' pig, and went struttin' in to tell everybody what he'd done to Loveland. I don't know where Bradbury and the widow went. As for me, I went aloft and turned in. And 'twas two days and nights afore I got up again. I had a cold, anyway, and what I'd been through didn't help it none.

“The afternoon of the second day, Bradbury come up to see me. He was dressed in his city clothes and looked as if he was goin' away. Sure enough, he was; goin' on the next train.

“'Where's Jonadab?' says I.

“'Oh, he's out in his car,' he says. 'Huntin' for Loveland again, maybe.'

“'HIS car? You mean yours.'

“'No, I mean his. I sold my car to him yesterday mornin' for twenty-five hundred dollars cash.'

“I set up in bed. 'Go 'long!' I sings out. 'You didn't nuther!'

“'Yes, I did. Sure thing. After that ride, you couldn't have separated him from that machine with blastin' powder. He paid over the money like a little man.'

“I laid down again. Jonadab Wixon payin' twenty-five hundred dollars for a plaything! Not promisin', but actually PAYIN' it!

“'Has—has the widow gone with him?' I asked, soon's I could get my breath.

“He laughed sort of queer. 'No,' he says, 'she's gone out of town for a few days. Ha, ha! Well, between you and me, Wingate, I doubt if she comes back again. She and I have made all we're likely to in this neighborhood, and she's too good a business woman to waste her time. Good-by; glad to have met you.'

“But I smelt rat strong and wouldn't let him go without seein' the critter.

“'Hold on!' I says. 'There's somethin' underneath all this. Out with it. I won't let on to the Cap'n if you don't want me to.'

“'Well,' says he, laughin' again, 'Mrs. Bassett WON'T come back and I know it. She and I have sold four cars on the Cape in the last five weeks, and the profits'll more'n pay vacation expenses. Two up in Wareham, one over in Orham, to Loveland—'

“'Did YOU sell Tobias his?' I asks, settin' up again.

“'Hettie and I did—yes. Soon's we landed him, we come over to bag old Wixon. I thought one time he'd kill us before we got him, but he didn't. How he did run that thing! He's a game sport.'

“'See here!' says I. 'YOU and Hettie sold—What do you mean by that?'

“'Mrs. Bassett is my backer in the auto business,' says he. 'She put in her money and I furnished the experience. We've got a big plant up in—' namin' a city in Connecticut.

“I fetched a long breath. 'WELL!' says I. 'And all this makin' eyes at Tobe and Jonadab was just—just—'

“'Just bait, that's all,' says he. 'I told you she was a good business woman.'

“I let this sink in good. Then says I, 'Humph! I swan to man! And how's your heart actin' now?'

“'Fine!' he says, winkin'. 'I had that attack so's the Cap'n would learn to run on his own hook. I didn't expect quite so much of a run, but I'm satisfied. Don't you worry about my heart disease. That twenty-five hundred cured it. 'Twas all in the way of business,' says Henry G. Bradbury.”

“Whew!” whistled Captain Hiram as Barzilla reached into his pocket for pipe and tobacco. “Whew! I should say your partner had a narrer escape. Want to look out sharp for widders. They're dangerous, hey, Sol?”

The depot master did not answer. Captain Hiram asked another question. “How'd Jonadab take Hettie's leavin'?” he inquired.

“Oh,” said Barzilla, “I don't think he minded so much. He was too crazy about his new auto to care for anything else. Then, too, he was b'ilin' mad 'cause Loveland swore out a warrant against him for speedin'.

“'Nice trick, ain't it?' he says. 'I knew Tobe was a poor loser, but I didn't think he'd be so low down as all that. Says I was goin' fifty mile an hour. He! he! Well, I WAS movin', that's a fact. I don't care. 'Twas wuth the twenty-dollar fine.'

“'Maybe so,' I says, 'but 'twon't look very pretty to have a special auto constable hauled up and fined for breakin' the law he's s'posed to protect.'

“He hadn't thought of that. His face clouded over.

“'No use, Barzilla,' says he; 'I'll have to give it up.'

“'Guess you will,' says I. 'Automobilin' is—'

“'I don't mean automobilin',' he snorts disgusted. 'Course not! I mean bein' constable.'

“So there you are! From cussin' automobiles he's got so that he can't talk enough good about 'em. And every day sence then he's out on the road layin' for another chance at Tobias. I hope he gets that chance pretty soon, because—well, there's a rumor goin' round that Loveland is plannin' to swap his car for a bigger and faster one. If he does . . .”

“If he does,” interrupted Captain Sol, “I hope you'll fix the next race for over here. I'd like to see you go by, Barzilla.”

“Guess you'd have to look quick to see him,” laughed Stitt. “Speakin' about automobiles—”

“By gum!” ejaculated Wingate, “you'd have to look somewheres else to find ME. I've got all the auto racin' I want!”

“Speakin' of automobiles,” began Captain Bailey again. No one paid the slightest attention.

“How's Dusenberry, your baby, Hiram?” asked the depot master, turning to Captain Baker. “His birthday's the Fourth, and that's only a couple of days off.”

The proud parent grinned, then looked troubled.

“Why, he ain't real fust-rate,” he said. “Seems to be some under the weather. Got a cold and kind of sore throat. Dr. Parker says he cal'lates it's a touch of tonsilitis. There's consider'ble fever, too. I was hopin' the doctor'd come again to-day, but he's gone away on a fishin' cruise. Won't be home till late to-morrer. I s'pose me and Sophrony hadn't ought to worry. Dr. Parker seems to know about the case.”

“Humph!” grunted the depot master, “there's only two bein's in creation that know it all. One's the Almighty and t'other's young Parker. He's right out of medical school and is just as fresh as his diploma. He hadn't any business to go fishin' and leave his patients. We lost a good man when old Dr. Ryder died. He . . . Oh, well! you mustn't worry, Hiram. Dusenberry'll pull out in time for his birthday. Goin' to celebrate, was you?”

Captain Baker nodded. “Um-hm,” he said. “Sophrony's goin' to bake a frosted cake and stick three candles on it—he's three year old, you know—and I've made him a 'twuly boat with sails,' that's what he's been beggin' for. Ho! ho! he's the cutest little shaver!”

“Speakin' of automobiles,” began Bailey Stitt for the third time.

“That youngster of yours, Hiram,” went on the depot master, “is the right kind. Compared with some of the summer young ones that strike this depot, he's a saint.”

Captain Hiram grinned. “That's what I tell Sophrony,” he said. “Sometimes when Dusenberry gets to cuttin' up and she is sort of provoked, I say to her, 'Old lady,' I say, 'if you think THAT'S a naughty boy, you ought to have seen Archibald.'”

“Who was Archibald?” asked Barzilla.

“He was a young rip that Sim Phinney and I run across four years ago when we went on our New York cruise together. The weir business had been pretty good and Sim had been teasin' me to go on a vacation with him, so I went. Sim ain't stopped talkin' about our experiences yet. Ho! ho!”

“You bet he ain't!” laughed the depot master. “One mix-up you had with a priest, and a love story, and land knows what. He talks about that to this day.”

“What was it? He never told me,” said Wingate.

“Why, it begun at the Golconda House, the hotel where Sim and I was stayin'. We—”

“Did YOU put up at the Golconda?” interrupted Barzilla. “Why, Cap'n Jonadab and me stayed there when we went to New York.”

“I know you did. Jonadab recommended it to Sim, and Sim took the recommendation. That Golconda House is the only grudge I've got against Jonadab Wixon. It sartin is a tough old tavern.”

“I give in to that. Jonadab's so sot on it account of havin' stopped there on his honeymoon, years and years ago. He's too stubborn to own it's bad. It's a matter of principle with him, and he's sot on principle.”

“Yes,” continued Baker. “Well, Sim and me had been at that Golconda three days and nights. Mornin' of the fourth day we walked out of the dinin' room after breakfast, feelin' pretty average chipper. Gettin' safe past another meal at that hotel was enough of itself to make a chap grateful.

“We walked out of the dinin' room and into the office. And there, by the clerk's desk, was a big, tall man, dressed up in clothes that was loud enough to speak for themselves, and with a shiny new tall hat, set with a list to port, on his head. He was smooth-faced and pug-nosed, with an upper lip like a camel's.

“He didn't pay much attention to us, nor to anybody else, for the matter of that. He was as mournful as a hearse, for all his joyful togs.

“'Fine day, ain't it?' says Sim, social.

“The tall chap looked up at him from under the deck of the beaver hat.

“'Huh!' he growls out, and looks down again.

“'I say it's a fine day,' said Phinney again.

“'I was after hearin' yez say it,' says the man, and walks off, scowlin' like a meat ax. We looked after him.

“'Who was that murderer?' asks Sim of the clerk. 'And when are they going to hang him?'

“'S-sh-sh!' whispers the clerk, scart. ''Tis the boss. The bloke what runs the hotel. He's a fine man, but he has troubles. He's blue.'

“'So that's the boss, hey?' says I. 'And he's blue. Well, he looks it. What's troublin' him? Ain't business good?'

“'Never better. It ain't that. He has things on his mind. You see—'

“I cal'late he'd have told us the yarn, only Sim wouldn't wait to hear it. We was goin' sight-seein' and we had 'aquarium' and 'Stock Exchange' on the list for that afternoon. The hotel clerk had made out a kind of schedule for us of things we'd ought to see while we was in New York, and so fur we'd took in the zoological menagerie and the picture museum, and Central Park and Brooklyn Bridge.

“On the way downtown in the elevated railroad Sim done some preachin'. His text was took from the Golconda House sign, which had 'T. Dempsey, Proprietor,' painted on it.

“'It's that Dempsey man's conscience that makes him so blue, Hiram,' says Sim. 'It's the way he makes his money. He sells liquor.'

“'Oh!' says I. 'Is THAT it? I thought maybe he'd been sleepin' on one of his own hotel beds. THEY'RE enough to make any man blue—black and blue.'

“The 'aquarium' wa'n't a success. Phinney was disgusted. He give one look around, grabbed me by the arm, and marched me out of that building same as Deacon Titcomb, of the Holiness Church at Denboro, marched his boy out of the Universalist sociable.

“'It's nothin' but a whole passel of fish,' he snorts. 'The idea of sendin' two Cape Codders a couple of miles to look at FISH. I've looked at 'em and fished for 'em, and et 'em all the days of my life,' he says, 'and when I'm on a vacation I want a change. I'd forgot that “aquarium” meant fish, or you wouldn't have got me within smellin' distance of it. Necessity's one thing and pleasure's another, as the boy said about takin' his ma's spring bitters.'

“So we headed for the Stock Exchange. We got our gallery tickets at the bank where the Golconda folks kept money, and in a little while we was leanin' over a kind of marble bulwarks and starin' down at a gang of men smokin' and foolin' and carryin' on. 'Twas a dull day, so we found out afterward, and I guess likely that was true. Anyway, I never see such grown-up men act so much like children. There was a lot of poles stuck up around with signs on 'em, and around every pole was a circle of bedlamites hollerin' like loons. Hollerin' was the nighest to work of anything I see them fellers do, unless 'twas tearin' up papers and shovin' the pieces down somebody's neck or throwin' 'em in the air like a play-actin' snowstorm.

“'What's the matter with 'em?' says I. 'High finance taken away their brains?'

“But Phinney was awful interested. He dumped some money in a mine once. The mine caved in on it, I guess, for not a red cent ever come to the top again, but he's been a kind of prophet concernin' finances ever sence.

“'I want to see the big fellers,' says he. 'S'pose that fat one is Morgan?'

“'I don't know,' says I. 'Me and Pierpont ain't met for ever so long. Don't lean over and point so; you're makin' a hit.'

“He was, too. Some of the younger crew on the floor was lookin' up and grinnin', and more kept stoppin' and joinin' in all the time. I cal'late we looked kind of green and soft, hangin' over that marble rail, like posies on a tombstone; and green is the favorite color to a stockbroker, they tell me. Anyhow, we had a good-sized congregation under us in less than no time. Likewise, they got chatty, and commenced to unload remarks.

“'Land sakes!' says one. 'How's punkins?'

“'How's crops down your way?' says another.

“Now there wa'n't nothin' real bright and funny about these questions—more fresh than new, they struck me—but you'd think they was gems from the comic almanac, jedgin' by the haw-haws. Next minute a little bald-headed smart Alec, with clothes that had a tailor's sign hull down and out of the race, steps to the front and commences to make a speech.

“'Gosh t'mighty, gents,' says he. 'With your kind permission, I'll sing “When Reuben Comes to Town.”'

“And he did sing it, too, in a voice that needed cultivatin' worse'n a sandy front yard. And with every verse the congregation whooped and laughed and cheered. When the anthem was concluded, all hands set up a yell and looked at us to see how we took it.

“As for me, I was b'ilin' mad and mortified and redhot all over. But Sim Phinney was as cool as an October evenin'. Once in a while old Sim comes out right down brilliant, and he done it now. He smiled, kind of tolerant and easy, same as you might at the tricks of a hand-organ monkey. Then he claps his hands, applaudin' like, reaches into his pocket, brings up a couple of pennies, and tosses 'em down to little baldhead, who was standin' there blown up with pride.

“For a minute the crowd was still. And THEN such a yell as went up! The whole floor went wild. Next thing I knew the gallery was filled with brokers, grabbin' us by the hands, poundin' us on the back, beggin' us to come have a drink, and generally goin' crazy. We was solid with the 'system' for once in our lives. We could have had that whole buildin', from marble decks to gold maintruck, if we'd said the word. Fifty yellin' lunatics was on hand to give it to us; the other two hundred was joyfully mutilatin' the baldhead.

“Well, I wanted to get away, and so did Sim, I guess; but the crowd wouldn't let us. We'd got to have a drink; hogsheads of drinks. That was the best joke on Eddie Lewisburg that ever was. Come on! We MUST come on! Whee! Wow!

“I don't know how it would have ended if some one hadn't butted head first through the mob and grabbed me by the shoulder. I was ready to fight by this time, and maybe I'd have begun to fight if the chap who grabbed me hadn't been a few inches short of seven foot high. And, besides that, I knew him. 'Twas Sam Holden, a young feller I knew when he boarded here one summer. His wife boarded here, too, only she wa'n't his wife then. Her name was Grace Hargrave and she was a fine girl. Maybe you remember 'em, Sol?”

The depot master nodded.

“I remember 'em well,” he said. “Liked 'em both—everybody did.”

“Yes. Well, he knew us and was glad to see us.

“'It IS you!' he sings out. 'By George! I thought it was when I came on the floor just now. My! but I'm glad to see you. And Mr. Phinney, too! Bully! Clear out and let 'em alone, you Indians.'

“The crowd didn't want to let us alone, but Sam got us clear somehow, and out of the Exchange Buildin' and into the back room of a kind of restaurant. Then he gets chairs for us, orders cigars, and shakes hands once more.

“'To think of seein' you two in New York!' he says, wonderin'. 'What are you doin' here? When did you come? Tell us about it.'

“So we told him about our pleasure cruise, and what had happened to us so fur. It seemed to tickle him 'most to death.

“'Grace and I are keepin' house, in a modest way, uptown,' says Sam, 'and she'll be as glad to see you as I am. You're comin' up to dinner with me to-night, and you're goin' to make us a visit, you know,' he says.

“Well, if we didn't know it then, we learned it right away. Nothin' that me or Simeon could say would make him change the course a point. So Phinney went up to the Golconda House and got our bags, and at half-past four that afternoon the three of us was in a hired hack bound uptown.

“On the way Sam was full of fun as ever. He laughed and joked, and asked questions about East Harniss till you couldn't rest. All of a sudden he slaps his knee and sings out:

“'There! I knew I'd forgotten somethin'. Our butler left yesterday, and I was to call at the intelligence office on my way home and see if they'd scared up a new one.'

“I looked at Simeon, and he at me.

“'Hum!' says I, thinkin' about that 'modest' housekeepin'. 'Do you keep a butler?'

“'Not long,' says he, dry as a salt codfish. And that's all we could get out of him.

“I s'pose there's different kinds of modesty. We hadn't more'n got inside the gold-plated front door of that house when I decided that the Holden brand of housekeepin' wa'n't bashful enough to blush. If I'D been runnin' that kind of a place, the only time I'd felt shy and retirin' was when the landlord came for the rent.

“One of the fo'mast hands—hired girls, I mean—went aloft to fetch Mrs. Holden, and when Grace came down she was just as nice and folksy and glad to see us as a body could be. But she looked sort of troubled, just the same.

“'I'm ever so glad you're here,' says she to me and Simeon. 'But, oh, Sam! it's a shame the way things happen. Cousin Harriet and Archie came this afternoon to stay until to-morrow. They're on their way South. And I have promised that you and I shall take Harriet to see Marlowe to-night. Of course we won't do it now, under any consideration, but you know what she is.'

“Sam seemed to know. He muttered somethin' that sounded like a Scripture text. Simeon spoke up prompt.

“'Indeed you will,' says he, decided. 'Me and Hiram ain't that kind. We've got relations of our own, and we know what it means when they come a-visitin'. You and Mr. Holden'll take your comp'ny and go to see—whatever 'tis you want to see, and we'll make ourselves to home till you get back. Yes, you will, or we clear out this minute.'

“They didn't want to, but we was sot, and so they give in finally. It seemed that this Cousin Harriet was a widow relation of the Holdens, who lived in a swell country house over in Connecticut somewhere, and was rich as the rest of the tribe. Archie was her son. 'Hers and the Evil One's,' Sam said.

“We didn't realize how much truth there was in this last part until we run afoul of Archie and his ma at dinner time. Cousin Harriet was tall and middlin' slim, thirty-five years old, maybe, at a sale for taxes, but discounted to twenty at her own valuation. She was got up regardless, and had a kind of chronic, tired way of talkin', and a condescendin' look to her, as if she was on top of Bunker Hill monument, and all creation was on its knees down below. She didn't warm up to Simeon and me much; eyed us over through a pair of gilt spyglasses, and admitted that she was 'charmed, I'm sure.' Likewise, she was afflicted with 'nerves,' which must be a divil of a disease—for everybody but the patient, especial.

“Archie—his ma hailed him as 'Archibald, dear'—showed up pretty soon in tow of his 'maid,' a sweet-faced, tired-out Irish girl named Margaret. 'Archibald, dear,' was five years old or so, sufferin' from curls and the lack of a lickin'. I never see a young one that needed a strap ile more.

“'How d'ye do Archie?' says Simeon, holdin' out his hand.

“Archie didn't take the hand. Instead of that he points at Phinney and commences to laugh.

“'Ho, ho!' says he, dancin' and pointin'. 'Look at the funny whiskers.'

“Sim wa'n't expectin' that, and it set him all aback, like he'd run into a head squall. He took hold of his beard and looked foolish. Sam and Grace looked ashamed and mad. Cousin Harriet laughed one of her lazy laughs.

“'Archibald, de-ar,' she drawls, 'you mustn't speak that way. Now be nice, and play with Margaret durin' dinner, that's a good boy.'

“'I won't,' remarks Archie, cheerful. 'I'm goin' to dine with you, mama.'

“'Oh, no, you're not, dear. You'll have your own little table, and—'

“Then 'twas' Hi, yi!' 'Bow, wow!' Archibald wa'n't hankerin' for little tables. He was goin' to eat with us, that's what. His ma, she argued with him and pleaded, and he yelled and stamped and hurrahed. When Margaret tried to soothe him he went at her like a wild-cat, and kicked and pounded her sinful. She tried to take him out of the room, and then Cousin Harriet come down on her like a scow load of brick.

“'Haven't I told you,' says she, sharp and vinegary, 'not to oppose the child in that way? Archibald has such a sensitive nature,' she says to Grace, 'that opposition arouses him just as it did me at his age. Very well, dear; you MAY dine with us to-night, if you wish. Oh, my poor nerves! Margaret, why don't you place a chair for Master Archibald? The creature is absolutely stupid at times,' she says, talkin' about that poor maid afore her face with no more thought for her feelin's than if she was a wooden image. 'She has no tact whatever. I wouldn't have Archibald's spirit broken for anything.'

“'Twas his neck that needed breakin' if you asked ME. That was a joyful meal, now I tell you.

“There was more joy when 'twas over. Archie didn't want to go to bed, havin' desires to set up and torment Simeon with questions about his whiskers; askin' if they growed or was tied on, and things like that. Course he didn't know his ma was goin' to the show, or he wouldn't have let her. But finally he was coaxed upstairs by Margaret and a box of candy, and, word havin' been sent down that he was asleep, Sam got out his plug hat, and Grace and Cousin Harriet got on their fur-lined dolmans and knit clouds, and was ready for the hack.

“'I feel mighty mean to go off and leave you this way,' says Sam to me and Simeon. 'But you make yourself at home, won't you? This is your house to-night, you know; servants and all.'

“'How about that boy's wakin' up?' says I.

“'Oh, his maid'll attend to him. If she needs any help you can give it to her,' he says, winkin' on the side.

“But Cousin Harriet was right at his starboard beam, and she heard him. She flew up like a settin' hen.

“'Indeed they will NOT!' she sings out. 'If anyone but Margaret was to attempt to control Archibald, I don't dare think what might happen. I shall not stir from this spot until these persons promise not to interfere in ANY way; Archibald, dear, is such a sensitive child.'

“So we promised not to interfere, although Sim Phinney looked disappointed when he done it. I could see that he'd had hopes afore he give that promise.”