ave thee to understand that I have sat for thirty long years at
the head of the Friends' meeting in this town and never has it been said
that my wits are cracked. Furthermore, this is none of thy affair. Move
on."

Farr merely shifted his feet and took an easier pose at the fence.

"Feeling as I do, it will not trouble me much to come over there and
take a chop or two at thee," warned the old man.

"I didn't know that Quakers ever allowed their feelings to get so highly
spiced."

"Along with thee, tramp!"

"You see, my dear sir," drawled the man in the road, "I am out in search
of peace of mind. If I should go on my way without understanding what
this means my itching curiosity would never allow me another good
night's sleep. A word from you to soothe curiosity, and then I go!"

"Thee has seen me knocking into pieces a coffin. Is there anything
strange in seeing me knock into pieces a coffin I have made with my own
hands?"

"No, sir. That is quite within your rights. But why? From what little I
saw of it it seemed to me to be a mighty fine piece of work."

"It was," stated the old man, a bit mollified. "Walnut with bird's-eye
maple inlaid."

"May I ask if it was made for anybody who died lately?"

"I made it for myself--I have had it by me for twenty years! Seeing that
thee must stick thy nose into my business!" His tone was pettish and
he stooped down and began to toss splinters and broken boards upon the
woodpile.

"Then I suppose it was--er--sort of out of date," suggested Farr,
blandly.

"I see thee is minded to tease me--the world is full of fools." He
straightened as best he could, propping hands on his hips, and divided
angry gaze between the man at the fence and the armored figure. "I am
not going to die--I have decided to stay alive. I have a fool on my
hands."

"Father, I think thee had better choose thy words a bit better in the
presence of a stranger," advised the man in armor.

"Can't thee see that he is a fool?" demanded the old man.

"I don't think I want to venture an opinion, sir. I'll simply say that
your son's choice of a summer suit seems a little peculiar. But, of
course, every man to his liking!"

The old man walked down to the fence. He was crooked at the waist and
his legs were hooked with the curves of age, but he strode along with
brisk vigor. His gaze was as sharp as a gimlet, though the puckered lids
were cocked over his eyes with the effect of little tents whose flaps
w