"Humph! She does, hey? I want to know! Look here, Jim! have you and
she--"

He got no further, for Pearson broke away, and, with a hurried "Good
night," strode up the platform to meet the city-bound train. Captain
Elisha watched it go and then walked slowly homeward, his hands in his
pockets, troubled and wondering.

He entered the house by the back door, a remnant of South Denboro habit,
and found Annie in the kitchen.

"Where's Caroline?" he asked.

"She's in the living room, sir, I think. Mr. Pearson has been here and
just gone."

"Um-hm. So I heard. Say, Annie, you needn't hurry dinner; I ain't ready
for it yet awhile."

He hung his coat and hat in the back hall and quietly entered the living
room. The lamp was not lighted, and the room was dark, but he saw his
niece, a shadowy figure, seated by the window. He crossed to her side.

"Well, Caroline," he said, cheerfully, "I'm home again."

She turned. "I see you are," she answered.

"Humph! your eyes must be better than mine then. I can't see anything in
here. It's darker than a nigger's pocket. Suppose we turn on the glim."

He struck a match as he said it. By its light he saw her face. The match
burned down to his finger tips and then he extinguished it.

"I don't know but the dark is just as good and more economical," he
observed. "No use of encouragin' the graspin' ile trust unless it's
necessary. Let's you and me sit here in the dark and talk. No objection
to talkin' to your back country relation, have you?"

"No."

"That's good. Well, Caroline, I'm goin' to talk plain again. You can
order me to close my hatch any time you feel like it; that's skipper's
privilege, and you're boss of this craft, you know. Dearie, I just met
Jim Pearson. He tells me he's decided not to go on this Cape cruise of
ours. He said you agreed with him 'twas best he shouldn't go. Do you
mind tellin' me why?"

She did not answer. He waited a minute and then continued.

"Course, I know I ain't got any real right to ask," he went on; "but I
think more of you and Jim than I do of anybody else, and so maybe you'll
excuse me. Have you and he had a fallin' out?"

Still she was silent. He sighed. "Well," he observed, "I see you have,
and I don't blame you for not wantin' to talk about it. I'm awful sorry.
I'd begun to hope that.... However, we'll change the subject. Or we
won't talk at all, if you'd rather not."

Another pause. Then she laid her hand on his.

"Uncle," she