insurance."

Tregenza shook his head again, slowly but positively. "'Tis curious to
me," he said, "how you keep harkin' back to that bit o' money you lost.
But 'tis the same, I've heard, with all you rich fellows. Money's the
be-all and end-all with 'ee."

The Elder at this point fairly stamped with rage; but before he could
muster up speech the street-door opened and the child Lizzie slipped into
the kitchen. Slight noise though she made, her grandfather caught the
sound of her footsteps. A look of greed crept into his face, as he made
hurriedly for the back-doorway.

"Liz!" he called.

"Yes, gran'fer."

"Where've yer been?"

"Been to school."

"Brought any wood?"

"How could I bring any wood when--" Her voice died away as she caught
sight of the Elder following her grandfather into the kitchen; and in a
flash, glancing from her to Tregenza, the Elder read the truth--that the
child was habitually beaten if she failed to bring home timber for the
boat.

She stood silent, at bay, eyeing him desperately.

"Look here," said the Elder, and caught himself wondering at the sound of
his own voice; "if 'tis wood you want, let her come and ask for it.
I'm not sayin' but she can fetch away an armful now an' then--in reason,
you know."

IV.

The longer Elder Penno thought it over, the more he confessed himself
puzzled, not with Tregenza, but with his own conduct.

Tregenza was mad, and madness would account for anything.

But why should he, Elder Penno, be moved to take a sudden interest,
unnecessary as it was inquisitive, in this mad old man, who had fooled him
out of seventy-five pounds?

Yet so it was. The Elder came again, two days later, and once again
before the end of the week. By the end of the second week the visit had
become a daily one. What is more, day by day he found himself looking
forward to it.

That Tregenza also looked forward to it might be read in the invariable
eagerness of his welcome; and this was even harder to explain, because the
Elder never failed to harp--seldom, indeed, relaxed harping--on old
misdeeds and the lost insurance money. Nay, perhaps in scorn of his own
weakness, he insisted on this more and more offensively; rehearsing each
day, as he climbed the hill, speeches calculated to offend or hurt.
But in the intervals he would betray--as he could not help feeling--some
curiosity in the boat.

One noonday--a few minutes after the children had been dismissed from