after the cast-iron pound-weights that you and he have been tryin'
to live on. Mercy on us! the thoughts of the cookies he showed me this
mornin' have stayed in my head ever since. Made me feel as if I was
partly responsible for murder."

"But it's kind of you, just the same."

"Rubbish! I'd do as much for a pig any day. There! you've got your
shirt; now you'd better go home."

She forced the pan of cookies into his hand and moved off. The
lightkeeper hesitated.

"I--I'll fetch the pan back to-morrer," he called after her in a loud
whisper.

CHAPTER XII

THE LETTER AND THE 'PHONE

The cookies appeared on the table that evening. Brown noticed them at
once.

"When did you bake these?" he asked.

Atkins made no reply, so the question was repeated with a variation.

"Did you bake these this afternoon?" inquired the substitute assistant.

"Humph? Hey? Oh, yes, I guess so. Why? Anything the matter with 'em?"

"Matter with them? No. They're the finest things I've tasted since I
came here. New receipt, isn't it?"

"Cal'late so."

"I thought it must be. I'll take another."

He took another, and many others thereafter. He and his superior cleared
the plate between them.

Brown was prepared for questions concerning his occupation of the
afternoon and was ready with some defiant queries of his own. But no
occasion arose for either defiance or cross-examination. Seth never
hinted at a suspicion nor mentioned the young lady at the bungalow.
Brown therefore remained silent concerning what he had seen from the
attic window. He would hold that in reserve, and if Atkins ever did
accuse him of bad faith or breach of contract he could retort in kind.
His conscience was clear now--he was no more of a traitor than Seth
himself--and, this being so, he felt delightfully independent. If
trouble came he was ready for it, and in the meantime he should do as he
pleased.

But no trouble came. That day, and for many days thereafter, the
lightkeeper was sweetness itself. He and his helper had never been more
anxious to please each other, and the house at Twin-Lights was--to all
appearances--an abode of perfect trust and peace. Every day, when Seth
was asleep or out of the way, "working on the Daisy M.," the assistant
swam to the cove, and every day he met Miss Graham there! During the
first week he returned from his dips expecting to be confronted by his
superior, and ready with counter accusations of his own. After thi