is hesitation, hastened to end
the inquisition.

"Mr. Brown can't stop to answer questions, Mrs. Bascom," she said. "I'm
sure he wants to get back to his work. Good morning, Mr. Brown. No doubt
we shall see each other often, being the only neighbors in sight. Call
again--do. I solemnly promise that you shall have to fight no more
wasps."

"Say!" The stout woman took a step forward. "Speakin' of wasps . . .
stand still a minute, Mr. Brown, won't you. What's them lumps on your
forehead? Why, I do believe you've been bit. You have, sure and sartin!"

Miss Graham was very much concerned. "Oh, no!" she exclaimed; "I hope
not. Let me see."

"No, indeed!" The assistant was on the step by this time and moving
rapidly. "Nothing at all. No consequence. Good morning."

He almost ran down the hill and crossed the creek at the wading place.
As he splashed through, the voice of the housekeeper reached his ears.

"Cold mud's the best thing," she screamed. "Put it on thick. It takes
out the smart. Good and thick, mind!"

For the next hour or two the lightkeeper's helper moved about his
household tasks in a curious frame of mind. He was thoroughly angry--or
thought he was--and very much disturbed. Neighbors of any kind were
likely to be a confounded nuisance, but two women! Heavens! And the
stout woman was sure to be running in for calls and to borrow things. As
for the other, she seemed a nice girl enough, but he never wanted to see
another girl, nice or otherwise. Her eyes were pretty, so was her hair,
but what of it? Oh, hang the luck! Just here he banged his swollen
forehead on the sharp edge of the door, and found relief in profanity.

Seth Atkins was profane, also, when he heard the news. Brown said
nothing until his superior discovered with his own eyes that the
bungalow was open. Then, in answer to the lightkeeper's questions, came
the disclosure of the truth.

"Women!" roared Seth. "You say there's two WOMEN goin' to live there? By
Judas! I don't believe it!"

"Go and see for yourself, then," was the brusque answer.

"I sha'n't, neither. Who told you?"

"They did."

"They DID? Was you there?"

"Yes."

"What for? I thought you swore never to go nigh a woman again."

"I did, but--well, it wasn't my fault. I--"

"Yes? Go on."

"I went because I couldn't help myself. Went to help some one else, in
fact. I expected to find Graham and that other artist. But--"

"Well, go ON."

"I was stung," said Mr. Brown,