, not exactly a friend,
maybe, but an acquaintance from out of town. He came last evenin'. He's
up in the spare bedroom."

"Well, I never! Come unexpected, didn't he? I wish I'd known he was
comin'. That spare room bed ain't been aired I don't know when."

"I guess he can stand it. I cal'late he's slept in consider'ble
worse--Hum! Yes, he did come kind of sudden."

"What's his name?"

"What difference does that make? I don't know's his name makes any odds
about gettin' his breakfast for him."

Georgianna was hurt. Her easy-going employer had never used this tone
before when addressing her.

"Oh!" she sniffed. "Is THAT the way you feel? All right! I can mind my
own business, thank you. I only asked because it's convenient sometimes
to know whether to call a person Bill Smith or Sol Jones. But I don't
care if it's Nebuchadnezzar. I know when to keep my tongue still, I
guess."

She flounced over to the range. Captain Cy looked ashamed of himself.

"I'm kind of out of sorts to-day," he said. "Got some headache. Why, his
name is--is--yes, 'tis Smith, come to think of it--John Smith. Funny you
should guess right, wan't it?"

"Humph!" was the ungracious answer. "Names don't interest me, I tell
you."

The captain was in the dining room when Bos'n appeared.

"Good morning, Uncle Cyrus," she said. "You've been waiting, haven't
you? Am I late? I didn't mean to be."

"No, no! you ain't late. Early, if anything. Breakfast ain't quite ready
yet. Come here and set in my lap. I want to talk to you."

He took her on his knee. She looked up into his face.

"What's the matter, Uncle Cy?" she asked. "What makes you so sober?"

"Sober? If you ain't the oldest young one for eight years I ever saw!
Why, I ain't sober. No, no! Say, Bos'n, do you like your school as well
as ever?"

"Yes, sir. I like it better all the time."

"Do, hey? And that teacher woman--go on likin' her?"

The child nodded emphatically. "Yes, sir," she said. "And I haven't been
kept after since that once."

"Sho! sho! Course you ain't'! So you think Bayport's as nice as Concord,
do you?"

"Oh! lots nicer! If mamma was only here I'd never want to be anywhere
else. And not then, maybe, unless you was there, too."

"Hum! Want to know! Say, Bos'n, how would you feel if you had to go
somewheres else?"

"To live? Have we got to? I'd feel dreadful, of course. But if you've
got to go, Uncle Cyrus, why--"

"Me? No; I ain't got to go anywheres. But 'tw