her you can't eat an
ile paintin'--unless you're born a goat. Good-by."

She went away. Brown chuckled and went on with his account of stock.

Seth "turned out" rather early that day. At half past one he appeared in
the kitchen, partially dressed.

"Where in time is my shirt?" he demanded impatiently.

"Your what?"

"My shirt. I thought I took it off out here. Could have sworn I did.
Guess likely I didn't, though. Must be gettin' absent-minded."

He was on his way back to the bedroom when his helper called.

"You did take it off out here," he cried. "It was on that chair there. I
remember seeing it. Probably it has fallen on the floor somewhere."

Atkins returned, grumbling that the kitchen floor was a "healthy place
to heave a shirt."

"Where is it?" he asked after a hurried search. "I can't find it
nowheres. Didn't put it in the fire, did ye?"

"Of course I didn't. I saw it. . . . Why, I remember that woman's
picking it up when she sat down."

"Woman? What woman?"

"That Baskin--Buskin--whatever her name is. The housekeeper at the
bungalow."

"Was she--HERE?" Seth's question was almost a shout. His helper stared
at him.

"Yes," he answered; "she was. She came to borrow some butter."

"To--to borrow--butter?"

"Why, yes. You didn't think I invited her in for a morning call, did
you? Don't act as if you had been struck by lightning. It's not so very
serious. We've got to expect some trouble of that kind. I got rid of her
as soon as I could."

"You--you did?"

"Yes, I did. You should thank me. I am on duty during the day, and I
suppose most of that sort of thing will fall on me. You're lucky. Our
neighbors aren't likely to make many calls after dark. . . . What's the
matter now? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Seth walked to the door and leaned against the post. Brown repeated his
question. "What IS the matter?" he asked. "You act just as you did when
I first happened into this forsak--this place. If you've got any more
hideous secrets up your sleeve I'm going to quit."

"Secrets!" Atkins laughed, or tried to. "I ain't got any secrets," he
declared, "any more than you have."

The latter half of this speech shut off further questioning. Brown
turned hastily away, and the lightkeeper went into his bedroom and
finished dressing.

"Find your shirt?" asked the young man an hour or so later.

"Hey? Yes, yes; I found it."

"In your room? That's odd. I could have sworn I saw it out here. Is