in' a thing you say," he cried. "I'm admittin' everything,
'cause I haven't got time to argue. You may have been dead nine times
like a cat. I don't care. All is, you go along. You'll find
accommodations at the tavern, the graveyard, or the town farm,
whichever hits you best. I'm busy."

But when he pulled his paper of figures under his nose again, the
thin man tapped his fleshless digit on the table.

"You're the first selectman, aren't you?" he demanded.

"That's what I be," returned the Cap'n, smartly.

"Well, then, you got to pay attention to town business when it is
put before you. I've come here on town business. I used to live in
this town."

"Was you buried here or was your remains taken away?" inquired the
Cap'n, genially, hoping that satire might drive out this unwelcome
disturber.

"Oh, I died all three times after I left this town," said the thin
man, in matter-of-fact tones. "What I'm comin' at is this: my father
gave the land to this town to build the school-house on out in the
Crymble district. Deed said if the building was ever abandoned for
school purposes for five years running, land and buildin' came back
to estate. I came past that school-house to-day and I see it hasn't
been used."

"We don't have school deestricks any more," explained the Cap'n. "We
transport scholars to the village here. That's been done for six
years and over."

"Then I claim the school-house and land," declared the thin man.

"You do, hey?"

"I do. I've got tired of travellin' round over this world, and I'm
goin' to settle down. And that school-house is the only real estate
I've got to settle down in. I'll keep bach' hall there."

"Who in thunderation are you, anyway?" demanded Cap'n Sproul,
propping himself on the table and leaning forward belligerently.

"My name is Dependence Crymble," replied the other, quietly. "My
father was Hope-for-grace Crymble. Odd names, eh? But the Crymbles
were never like other folks."

Cap'n Sproul sat down hard in his chair and goggled at the thin man.

"Say, look-here-you," he gasped at last. "There never could be more'n
one name like Dependence Crymble in this world. I ain't a native here
and I don't know you from Adam. But is your wife the Widow Delora
Crymble--I mean, was she--oh, tunk-rabbit it, I reckon I'm gettin'
as crazy as you are!"

"I'm not insane," persisted the other. "I'm Dependence Crymble, and
I married Delora Goff. I've been away from here twenty years, but
I