to feed their saws as they watched the
interview.

Sandy's voice was heard all over the mill:--

"'Lije Vandine, I saved the little lad's life, an' _that_, counts for
_something_; but I know right well I ain't got no right to expect you or
Sarah ever to say a kind word to me. But I swear, so help me God, I
hadn't no sort of idee what I was doin'. My wife died las' winter, over
on the Kennebec, an' afore she died she told me everything--as I'd take
it kindly ef you'd let _me_ tell _you_, more particular, another time.
An' as I was wantin' to say now, I'd take it kind ef you'd let me go up
along to your place this evenin', and maybe Sarah'd let me jest talk to
the boy a little. Ef so be ez I could persuade her by-and-by to forget
an' forgive--and you'd trust me after what I'd done--I'd lay out to
marry her the minute she'd say the word, fur there ain't no other woman
I've ever set such store by as I do now by her. An' then ther's
Stevie----"

"Stevie and the lass hez both got a good home," interrupted Vandine,
roughly.

"An' I wouldn't want a better for 'em," exclaimed MacPherson, eagerly,
catching the train of the old man's thought. "What I'd want would be, ef
maybe you'd let me come in along with them and you."

By this time Vandine had got his new saw, and he turned away without
replying. Sandy followed him a few paces, and then turned back
dejectedly to attend his own circular--he having been moved into the
mill that morning. All the hands looked at him in sympathy, and many
were the ingenious backwoods oaths which were muttered after Vandine for
his ugliness. The old man paid little heed, however, to the tide of
unpopularity that was rising about him. Probably, absorbed in his own
thoughts, he was utterly unaware of it. All the morning long he swung
and fed his circular, and when the horn blew for twelve his mind was
made up. In the sudden stillness he strode over to the place where
MacPherson worked, and said in a voice of affected carelessness--

"You better come along an' have a bite o' dinner with us, Sandy. You'll
be kinder expected, I reckon, for Stevie's powerful anxious to see you."

Sandy grabbed his coat and went along.

The Butt of the Camp.

He was a mean-looking specimen, this Simon Gillsey, and the Gornish Camp
was not proud of him. His neck was long, his mouth was long and
protruding, like a bird's beak, his hair was thin and colorless, his
shoulders sloped in such a manner that his