been sitting between Mr. Tate's
earth-stained boots ran at the gander and yapped shrilly. The big
bird curved his neck, bristled his feathers, and hissed.

"Kick 'em out of here!" snapped the Cap'n, indignantly.

"Any man that's soft-headed enough to have a gander followin' him
round everywhere he goes ought to have a guardeen appointed,"
suggested Mr. Tate, acidulously, after he had recovered his dog and
had cuffed his ears.

"My garnder is a gent side of any low-lived dog that ever gnawed
carrion," retorted Mr. Gammon, his funereal gloom lifting to show
one flash of resentment.

"Look here!" sputtered the Cap'n, "this ain't any Nat'ral History
Convention. Shut up, I tell ye, the two of you! Now, Tate, you can
up killick and set sail for home. I've given you your course, and
don't you let her off one point. You tell the public of this town,
and you can stand on the town-line and holler it acrost into Vienny,
that the end of that road stays right there."

Mr. Tate, his dog under his arm, paused at the door to fling over
his shoulder another muttered taunt about "bedevilment," and
disappeared.

"Now, old button on a graveyard gate, what do you want?" demanded
Cap'n Sproul, running eye of great disfavor over Mr. Gammon and his
faithful attendant. He had heard various reports concerning this
widower recluse of Purgatory, and was prepared to dislike him.

"I reckoned she'd prob'ly have it over you, too," said Mr. Gammon,
drearily. "It's like her to aim for shinin' marks."

Cap'n Sproul blinked at him, and then turned dubious gaze on Hiram,
who leaned back against the whitewashed wall, nesting his head
comfortably in his locked fingers.

"If she's bedeviled me and bedeviled you, there ain't no tellin'
where she'll stop," Mr. Gammon went on. "And you bein' more of a
shinin' mark, it will be worse for you."

"Look here," said the first selectman, squaring his elbows on the
table and scowling on "Cheerful Charles," "if you've come to me to
get papers to commit you to the insane horsepittle, you've proved
your case. You needn't say another word. If it's any other business,
get it out of you, and then go off and take a swim with your old
web-foot--_there!_"

Mr. Gammon concealed any emotion that the slur provoked. He came
along to the table and tucked a paper under the Cap'n's nose.

"There's what Squire Alcander Reeves wrote off for me, and told me
to hand it to you. He said it would show you your duty."

The s