“So that was the end of it, hey?” said Captain Bailey. “Well, it's what you might expect, but it wa'n't much to be so anxious to tell; and as for PROVIN' anything about fortune tellin'—why—”

“It AIN'T the end,” shouted the exasperated Barzilla. “Not nigh the end. 'Twas the beginnin'. The housekeeper left us that day, of course, and for the rest of that summer the servant question kept me and Jonadab from thinkin' of other things. Course, the reason for the Butler scamp's sudden switch was plain enough. Susannah's lawyer had settled the case with the railroad and, even after his fee was subtracted, there was fifteen hundred left. That was enough sight better'n nine hundred, so Sim figgered when he heard of it; and he hustled to make up with his old girl.

“Fifteen hundred dollars doesn't last long with some folks. At the beginnin' of the next spring season both of 'em was round huntin' jobs. Susannah was a fust-rate waitress, so we hired her for that—no more housekeeper for hers, and served her right. As for her husband, we took him on in the stable. He wouldn't have been wuth his salt if it hadn't been for her. She said she'd keep him movin' and she did. She nagged and henpecked him till I'd have been sorry if 'twas anybody else; as 'twas, I got consider'ble satisfaction out of it.

“I got one letter from Effie pretty soon after she left, sayin' she liked her new job and that the Van Wedderburns liked her. And that's all I did hear, though Bob himself wrote me in May, sayin' him and Mabel, his wife, had bought a summer cottage in Wapatomac, and me and Jonadab—especially me—must be sure and come to see it and them. He never mentioned his second girl, and I almost forgot her myself.

“But one afternoon in early July a big six-cylinder automobile come sailin' down the road and into the Old Home House yard. A shofer—I b'lieve that's what they call the tribe—was at the helm of it, and on the back seat, lollin' luxurious against the upholstery, was a man and a woman, got up regardless in silk dusters and goggles and veils and prosperity. I never expect to see the Prince of Wales and his wife, but I know how they'd look—after seein' them two.

“Jonadab was at the bottom step to welcome 'em, bowin' and scrapin' as if his middle j'int had just been iled. I wa'n't fur astern, and every boarder on deck was all eyes and envy.

“The shofer opens the door of the after cockpit of the machine, and the man gets out fust, treadin' gingerly but grand, as if he was doin' the ground a condescension by steppin' on it. Then he turns to the woman and she slides out, her duds rustlin' like the wind in a scrub oak. The pair sails up the steps, Jonadab and me backin' and fillin' in front of 'em. All the help that could get to a window to peek had knocked off work to do it.

“'Ahem!' says the man, pompous as Julius Caesar—he was big and straight and fine lookin' and had black side whiskers half mast on his cheeks—ahem!' says he. 'I say, good people, may we have dinner here?'

“Well, they tell us time and tide waits for no man, but prob'ly that don't include the nobility. Anyhow, although 'twas long past our reg'lar dinner time, I heard Jonadab tellin' 'em sure and sartin they could. If they wouldn't mind settin' on the piazza or in the front parlor for a spell, he'd have somethin' prepared in a jiffy. So up to the piazza they paraded and come to anchor in a couple of chairs.

“'You can have your automobile put right into the barn,' I says, 'if you want to.'

“'I don't know as it will be necessary—' began the big feller, but the woman interrupted him. She was starin' through her thick veil at the barn door. Sim Butler, in his overalls and ragged shirt sleeves, was leanin' against that door, interested as the rest of us in what was goin' on.

“'I would have it put there, I think,' says the woman, lofty and superior. 'It is rather dusty, and I think the wheels ought to be washed. Can that man be trusted to wash 'em?' she asks, pointin' kind of scornful at Simeon.

“'Yes, marm, I cal'late so,' I says. 'Here, Sim!' I sung out, callin' Butler over to the steps. 'Can you wash the dust off them wheels?'

“He said course he could, but he didn't act joyful over the job. The woman seemed some doubtful.

“'He looks like a very ignorant, common person,' says she, loud and clear, so that everybody, includin' the 'ignorant person' himself, could hear her. 'However, James'll superintend. James,' she orders the shofer, 'you see that it is well done, won't you? Make him be very careful.'

“James looked Butler over from head to foot. 'Humph!' he sniffs, contemptuous, with a kind of half grin on his face. 'Yes, marm, I'll 'tend to it.'

“So he steered the auto into the barn, and Simeon got busy. Judgin' by the sharp language that drifted out through the door, 'twas plain that the shofer was superintendin' all right.

“Jonadab heaves in sight, bowin', and makes proclamation that dinner is served. The pair riz up majestic and headed for the dinin' room. The woman was a little astern of her man, and in the hall she turns brisk to me.

“'Mr. Wingate,' she whispers, 'Mr. Wingate.'

“I stared at her. Her voice had sounded sort of familiar ever sence I heard it, but the veil kept a body from seein' what she looked like.

“'Hey?' I sings out. 'Have I ever—'

“'S-s-h-h!' she whispers. 'Say, Mr. Wingate, that—that Susannah thing is here, ain't she? Have her wait on us, will you, please?'

“And she swept the veil off her face. I choked up and staggered bang! against the wall. I swan to man if it wa'n't Effie! EFFIE, in silks and automobiles and gorgeousness!

“Afore I could come to myself the two of 'em marched into that dining room. I heard a grunt and a 'Land of love!' from just ahead of me. That was Jonadab. And from all around that dinin' room come a sort of gasp and then the sound of whisperin'. That was the help.

“They took a table by the window, which had been made ready. Down they set like a king and a queen perchin' on thrones. One of the waiter girls went over to em.

“But I'd come out of my trance a little mite. The situation was miles ahead of my brain, goodness knows, but the joke of it all was gettin' a grip on me. I remembered what Effie had asked and I spoke up prompt.

“'Susannah,' says I, 'this is a particular job and we're anxious to please. You'd better do the waitin' yourself.'

“I wish you could have seen the glare that ex-housekeeper give me. For a second I thought we'd have open mutiny. But her place wa'n't any too sartin and she didn't dare risk it. Over she walked to that table, and the fun began.

“Jonadab had laid himself out to make that meal a success, but they ate it as if 'twas pretty poor stuff and not by no means what they fed on every day. They found fault with 'most everything, but most especial with Susannah's waitin'. My! how they did order her around—a mate on a cattle boat wa'n't nothin' to it. And when 'twas all over and they got up to go, Effie says, so's all hands can hear:

“'The food here is not so bad, but the service—oh, horrors! However, Albert,' says she to the side-whiskered man, 'you had better give the girl our usual tip. She looks as if she needed it, poor thing!'

“Then they paraded out of the room, and I see Susannah sling the half dollar the man had left on the table clear to Jericho, it seemed like.

“The auto was waitin' by the piazza steps. The shofer and Butler was standin' by it. And when Sim see Effie with her veil throwed back he pretty nigh fell under the wheels he'd been washin' so hard. And he looked as if he wisht they'd run over him.

“'Oh, dear!' sighs Effie, lookin' scornful at the wheels. 'Not half clean, just as I expected. I knew by the looks of that—that PERSON that he wouldn't do it well. Don't give him much, Albert; he ain't earned it.'

“They climbed into the cockpit, the shofer took the helm, and they was ready to start. But I couldn't let 'em go that way. Out I run.

“'Say—say, Effie!' I whispers, eager. 'For the goodness' sakes, what's all this mean? Is that your—your—'

“'My husband? Yup,' she whispers back, her eyes shinin'. 'Didn't I tell you to look out for my prophecy? Ain't he handsome and distinguished, just as I said? Good-by, Mr. Wingate; maybe I'll see you again some day.'

“The machinery barked and they got under way. I run along for two steps more.

“'But, Effie,' says I, 'tell me—is his name—?'

“She didn't answer. She was watchin' Sim Butler and his wife. Sim had stooped to pick up the quarter the Prince of Wales had hove at him. And that was too much for Susannah, who was watchin' from the window.

“'Don't you touch that money!' she screams. 'Don't you lay a finger on it! Ain't you got any self-respect at all, you miser'ble, low-lived—' and so forth and so on. All the way to the front gate I see Effie leanin' out, lookin' and listenin' and smilin'.

“Then the machine buzzed off in a typhoon of dust and I went back to Jonadab, who was a livin' catechism of questions which neither one of us could answer.”

“So THAT'S the end!” exclaimed Captain Bailey. “Well—”

“No, it ain't the end—not even yet. Maybe it ought to be, but it ain't. There's a little more of it.

“A fortni't later I took a couple of days off and went up to Wapatomac to visit the Van Wedderburns, same as I'd promised. Their 'cottage' was pretty nigh big enough for a hotel, and was so grand that I, even if I did have on my Sunday frills, was 'most ashamed to ring the doorbell.

“But I did ring it, and the feller that opened the door was big and solemn and fine lookin' and had side whiskers. Only this time he wore a tail coat with brass buttons on it.

“How do you do, Mr. Wingate?' says he. Step right in, sir, if you please. Mr. and Mrs. Van Wedderburn are out in the auto, but they'll be back shortly, and very glad to see you, sir, I'm sure. Let me take your grip and hat. Step right into the reception room and wait, if you please, sir. Perhaps,' he says, and there was a twinkle in his port eye, though the rest of his face was sober as the front door of a church, 'perhaps,' says he, 'you might wish to speak with my wife a moment. I'll take the liberty of sendin' her to you, sir.'

“So, as I sat on the gunwale of a blue and gold chair, tryin' to settle whether I was really crazy or only just dreamin', in bounces Effie, rigged up in a servant's cap and apron. She looked polite and demure, but I could see she was just bubblin' with the joy of the whole bus'ness.

“'Effie,' says I, 'Effie, what—what in the world—?'

“She giggled. 'Yup,' she says, 'I'm chambermaid here and they treat me fine. Thank you very much for gettin' me the situation.'

“'But—but them doin's the other day? That automobile—and them silks and satins—and—?'

“'Mr. Van Wedderburn lent 'em to me,' she said, 'him an' his wife. And he lent us the auto and the shofer, too. I told him about my troubles at the Old Home House and he thought 'twould be a great joke for me to travel back there like a lady. He's awful fond of a joke—Mr. Van Wedderburn is.'

“'But that man?' I gasps. 'Your husband? That's what you said he was.'

“'Yes,' says she, 'he is. We've been married 'most six months now. My prophecy's all come true. And DIDN'T I rub it in on that Susannah Debs and her scamp of a Sim? Ho! ho!'

“She clapped her hands and pretty nigh danced a jig, she was so tickled.

“'But is he a Butler?' I asks.

“'Yup,' she nods, with another giggle. 'He's A butler, though his name's Jenkins; and a butler's high rank—higher than chambermaid, anyhow. You see, Mr. Wingate,' she adds, ''twas all my fault. When that Oriental Seer man at the show said I was to marry a butler, I forgot to ask him whether you spelt it with a big B or a little one.'”

The unexpected manner in which Effie's pet prophecy had been fulfilled amused Captain Sol immensely. He laughed so heartily that Issy McKay looked in at the door with an expression of alarm on his face. The depot master had laughed little during the past few days, and Issy was surprised.

But Captain Stitt was ready with a denial. He claimed that the prophecy was NOT fulfilled and therefore all fortune telling was fraudulent. Barzilla retorted hotly, and the argument began again. The two were shouting at each other. Captain Sol stood it for a while and then commanded silence.

“Stop your yellin'!” he ordered. “What ails you fellers? Think you can prove it better by screechin'? They can hear you half a mile. There's Cornelius Rowe standin' gawpin' on the other side of the street this minute. He thinks there's a fire or a riot, one or t'other. Let's change the subject. See here, Bailey, didn't you start to tell us somethin' last time you was in here about your ridin' in an automobile?”

“I started to—yes. But nobody'd listen. I rode in one and I sailed in one. You see—”

“I'm goin' outdoor,” declared Barzilla.

“No, you're not. Bailey listened to you. Now you do as much for him. I heard a little somethin' about the affair at the time it happened and I'd like to hear the rest of it. How was it, Bailey?”

Captain Stitt knocked the ashes from his pipe.

“Well,” he began, “I didn't know the critter was weak in his top riggin' or I wouldn't have gone with him in the fust place. And he wa'n't real loony, nuther. 'Twas only when he got aboard that—that ungodly, kerosene-smellin', tootin', buzzin', Old Harry's gocart of his that the craziness begun to show. There's so many of them weak-minded city folks from the Ocean House comes perusin' 'round summers, nowadays, that I cal'lated he was just an average specimen, and never examined him close.”

“Are all the Ocean House boarders weak-minded nowadays?” asked the depot master.

Mr. Wingate answered the question.

“My land!” he snapped; “would they board at the Ocean House if they WA'N'T weak-minded?”

Captain Bailey did not deign to reply to this jibe. He continued calmly:

“This feller wa'n't an Ocean Houser, though. He was young Stumpton's automobile skipper-shover, or shofer, or somethin' they called him. He answered to the hail of Billings, and his home port was the Stumpton ranch, 'way out in Montana. He'd been here in Orham only a couple of weeks, havin' come plumb across the United States to fetch his boss the new automobile. You see, 'twas early October. The Stumptons had left their summer place on the Cliff Road, and was on their way South for the winter. Young Stumpton was up to Boston, but he was comin' back in a couple of days, and then him and the shover was goin' automobilin' to Florida. To Florida, mind you! In that thing! If it was me I'd buy my ticket to Tophet direct and save time and money.

“Well, anyhow, this critter Billings, he ain't never smelt salt water afore, and he don't like the smell. He makes proclamations that Orham is nothin' but sand, slush, and soft drinks. He won't sail, he can't swim, he won't fish; but he's hankerin' to shoot somethin', havin' been brought up in a place where if you don't shoot some of the neighbors every day or so folks think you're stuck up and dissociable. Then somebody tells him it's the duckin' season down to Setuckit P'int, and he says he'll spend his day off, while the boss is away, massycreein' the coots there. This same somebody whispers that I know so much about ducks that I quack when I talk, and he comes cruisin' over in the buzz cart to hire me for guide. And—would you b'lieve it?—it turns out that he's cal'latin' to make his duckin' v'yage in that very cart. I was for makin' the trip in a boat, like a sensible man, but he wouldn't hear of it.

“'Land of love!' says I. 'Go to Setuckit in a automobile?'

“'Why not?' he says. 'The biscuit shooter up at the hotel tells me there's a smart chance of folks goes there a-horseback. And where a hoss can travel I reckon the old gal here'—slappin' the thwart of the auto alongside of him—'can go, too!'

“'But there's the Cut-through,' says I.

“''Tain't nothin' but a creek when the freshet's over, they tell me,' says he. 'And me and the boss have forded four foot of river in this very machine.'

“By the 'freshet' bein' over I judged he meant the tide bein' out. And the Cut-through ain't but a little trickle then, though it's a quarter mile wide and deep enough to float a schooner at high water. It's the strip of channel that makes Setuckit Beach an island, you know. The gov'ment has had engineers down dredgin' of it out, and pretty soon fish boats'll be able to save the twenty-mile sail around the P'int and into Orham Harbor at all hours.

“Well, to make a long story short, I agreed to let him cart me to Setuckit P'int in that everlastin' gas carryall. We was to start at four o'clock in the afternoon, 'cause the tide at the Cut-through would be dead low at half-past four. We'd stay overnight at my shanty at the P'int, get up airly, shoot all day, and come back the next afternoon.

“At four prompt he was on hand, ready for me. I loaded in the guns and grub and one thing or 'nother, and then 'twas time for me to get aboard myself.

“'You'll set in the tonneau,' says he, indicatin' the upholstered after cockpit of the concern. I opened up the shiny hatch, under orders from him, and climbed in among the upholstery. 'Twas soft as a feather bed.

“'Jerushy!' says I, lollin' back luxurious. This is fine, ain't it?'

“'Cost seventy-five hundred to build,' he says casual. 'Made to order for the boss. Lightest car of her speed ever turned out.'

“'Go 'way! How you talk! Seventy-five hundred what? Not dollars?'

“'Sure,' he says. Then he turns round—he was in the bow, hangin' on to the steerin' wheel—and looks me over, kind of interested, but superior. 'Say,' he says, 'I've been hearin' things about you. You're a hero, ain't you?'

“Durn them Orham gabblers! Ever sence I hauled that crew of seasick summer boarders out of the drink a couple of years ago and the gov'ment gave me a medal, the minister and some more of his gang have painted out the name I was launched under and had me entered on the shippin' list as 'The Hero.' I've licked two or three for callin' me that, but I can't lick a parson, and he was the one that told Billings.

“'Oh, I don't know!' I answers pretty sharp. 'Get her under way, why don't you?'

“All he done was look me over some more and grin.

“'A hero! A real live gov'ment-branded hero!' he says. 'Ain't scared of nothin', I reckon—hey?'

“I never made no answer. There's some things that's too fresh to eat without salt, and I didn't have a pickle tub handy.

“'Hum!' he says again, reverend-like. 'A sure hero; scared of nothin'! Never rode in an auto afore, did you?'

“'No,' says I, peppery; 'and I don't see no present symptom of ridin' in one now. Cast off, won't you?'

“He cast off. That is to say, he hauled a nickel-plated marlinespike thing toward him, shoved another one away from him, took a twist on the steerin' wheel, the gocart coughed like a horse with the heaves, started up some sort of buzz-planer underneath, and then we begun to move.

“From the time we left my shanty at South Orham till we passed the pines at Herrin' Neck I laid back in that stuffed cockpit, feelin' as grand and tainted as old John D. himself. The automobile rolled along smooth but swift, and it seemed to me I had never known what easy trav'lin' was afore. As we rounded the bend by the pines and opened up the twelve-mile narrow white stretch of Setuckit Beach ahead of us, with the ocean on one side and the bay on t'other, I looked at my watch. We'd come that fur in thirteen minutes.

“'Land sakes!' I says. 'This is what I call movin' right along!'

“He turned round and sized me up again, like he was surprised.

“'Movin'?' says he. 'Movin'? Why, pard, we've been settin' down to rest! Out our way, if a lynchin' party didn't move faster than we've done so fur, the center of attraction would die on the road of old age. Now, my heroic college chum,' he goes on, callin' me out of my name, as usual, 'will you be so condescendin' as to indicate how we hit the trail?'

“'Hit—hit which? Don't hit nothin', for goodness' sake! Goin' the way we be, it would—'

“'Which way do we go?'

“'Right straight ahead. Keep on the ocean side, 'cause there's more hard sand there, and—hold on! Don't do that! Stop it, I tell you!'

“Them was the last rememberable words said by me durin' the next quarter of an hour. That shover man let out a hair-raisin' yell, hauled the nickel marlinespike over in its rack, and squeezed a rubber bag that was spliced to the steerin' wheel. There was a half dozen toots or howls or honks from under our bows somewheres, and then that automobile hopped off the ground and commenced to fly. The fust hop landed me on my knees in the cockpit, and there I stayed. 'Twas the most fittin' position fur my frame of mind and chimed in fust-rate with the general religious drift of my thoughts.

“The Cut-through is two mile or more from Herrin' Neck. 'Cordin' to my count we hit terra cotta just three times in them two miles. The fust hit knocked my hat off. The second one chucked me up so high I looked back for the hat, and though we was a half mile away from it, it hadn't had time to git to the ground. And all the while the horn was a-honkin', and Billings was a-screechin, and the sand was a-flyin'. Sand! Why, say! Do you see that extra bald place on the back of my head? Yes? Well, there was a two-inch thatch of hair there afore that sand blast ground it off.

“When I went up on the third jounce I noticed the Cut-through just ahead. Billings see it, too, and—would you b'lieve it?—the lunatic stood up, let go of the wheel with one hand, takes off his hat and waves it, and we charge down across them wet tide flats like death on the woolly horse, in Scriptur'.

“'Hi, yah! Yip!' whoops Billings. 'Come on in, fellers! The water's fine! Yow! Y-e-e-e! Yip!'

“For a second it left off rainin' sand, and there was a typhoon of mud and spray. I see a million of the prettiest rainbows—that is, I cal'lated there was a million; it's awful hard to count when you're bouncin' and prayin' and drowndin' all to once. Then we sizzed out of the channel, over the flats on t'other side, and on toward Setuckit.

“Never mind the rest of the ride. 'Twas all a sort of constant changin' sameness. I remember passin' a blurred life-savin' station, with three—or maybe thirty—blurred men jumpin' and laughin' and hollerin'. I found out afterwards that they'd been on the lookout for the bombshell for half an hour. Billings had told around town what he was goin' to do to me, and some kind friend had telephoned it to the station. So the life-savers was full of anticipations. I hope they were satisfied. I hadn't rehearsed my part of the show none, but I feel what the parson calls a consciousness of havin' done my best.

“'Whoa, gal!' says Billings, calm and easy, puttin' the helm hard down. The auto was standin' still at last. Part of me was hangin' over the lee rail. I could see out of the part, so I knew 'twas my head. And there alongside was my fish shanty at the P'int, goin' round and round in circles.

“I undid the hatch of the cockpit and fell out on the sand. Then I scrambled up and caught hold of the shanty as it went past me. That fool shover watched me, seemin'ly interested.

“'Why, pard,' says he, 'what's the matter? Do you feel pale? Are you nervous? It ain't possible that you're scared? Honest, now, pard, if it weren't that I knew you were a genuine gold-mounted hero I'd sure think you was a scared man.'

“I never said nothin'. The scenery and me was just turnin' the mark buoy on our fourth lap.

“'Dear me, pard!' continues Billings. 'I sure hope I ain't scared you none. We come down a little slow this evenin', but to-morrow night, when I take you back home, I'll let the old girl out a little.'

“I sensed some of that. And as the shanty had about come to anchor, I answered and spoke my mind.

“'When you take me back home!' I says. 'When you do! Why, you crack-brained, murderin' lunatic, I wouldn't cruise in that hell wagon of yours again for the skipper's wages on a Cunarder. No, nor the mate's hove in!'

“And that shover he put his head back and laughed and laughed and laughed.”