e wanted to, ain't we? Besides, a dog'll be handy to have
around. Bill Foster, the life saver, told me that somebody busted into
the station henhouse one night a week ago and got away with four of
their likeliest pullets. He cal'lates 'twas tramps or boys. We don't
keep hens, but there's some stuff in that boathouse I wouldn't want
stole, and, bein' as there's no lock on the door, a dog would be a sort
of protection, as you might say."

"But thieves would never come way down here."

"Why not? 'Tain't any further away from the rest of creation than the
life savin' station, is it? Anyhow, Henry G. give the dog to me free for
nothin', and that's a miracle of itself. You'd say so, too, if you
knew Henry. I was so surprised that I said I'd take it right off; felt
'twould be flyin' in the face of Providence not to. A miracle--jumpin'
Judas! I never knew Henry to give anybody anything afore--unless 'twas
the smallpox, and then 'twan't a genuine case, nothin' but varioloid."

"But what kind of a dog is it?"

"I don't know. Henry used to own the mother of it, and she was one
quarter mastiff and the rest assorted varieties. This one he's givin'
me ain't a whole dog, you see; just a half-grown pup. The varioloid
all over again--hey? Ho, ho! I didn't really take him for sartin, you
understand; just on trial. If we like him, we'll keep him, that's all."

The third afternoon following this announcement, Brown was alone in
the kitchen, and busy. Seth had departed on one of his mysterious
excursions, carrying a coil of rope, a pulley and a gallon can of paint.
Before leaving the house he had given his helper some instructions
concerning supper.

"Might's well have a lobster tonight," he said. "Ever cook a lobster,
did you?"

No, Mr. Brown had never cooked a lobster.

"Well, it's simple enough. All you've got to do is bile him. Bile him in
hot water till he's done."

"I see." The substitute assistant was not enthusiastic. Cooking he did
not love.

"Humph!" he grunted. "I imagined if he was boiled at all, it was be in
hot water, not cold."

Atkins chuckled. "I mean you want to have the water bilin' hot when you
put him in," he explained. "Wait till she biles up good and then souse
him; see?"

"I guess so. How do you know when he's done?"

"Oh--er--I can't tell you. You'll have to trust to your instinct, I
cal'late. When he looks done, he IS done, most gen'rally speakin'."

"Dear me! how clear you make it. Would you mind