over to supper, and see if Harry's going
to shut off the rations."

Three days after this conversation Mr. McGowan's month was up, and the
hammer of Mr. Beaver's authority came down. Captain Pott stood in his
door, watching the pantomime as Mr. Beaver pumped, backed, stuttered,
and blinked out the minister's dismissal from his wife's table. The
Captain had an extra griddle on the stove when Mr. McGowan returned.
Without question or comment he indicated a chair, and the minister
smiled like a schoolboy as he drew it up before the place at the
Captain's table which he was to occupy from now on.

"Best eat 'em while they're sizzling hot," invited the Captain, dumping
a turnerful of cakes on the empty plate.

When the men had divided the last flapjack, the minister announced that
he was going for a stroll along the beach.

He was no sooner out of sight than over came Mrs. Beaver, carrying a
large tin filled with biscuits. Captain Pott took them to the pantry,
and returned with the empty pan.

"Thanks, Eadie. Mr. McGowan will sure appreciate them."

"Oh, Josiah! I hope he won't blame me for what's happened."

"Cal'late he won't blame you," said the seaman sympathetically.

"Why are things so upset in town against him?"

"I ain't able to answer that, Eadie. It does seem that the old ark is
going through quite a squall, don't it?"

"Has Harry said anything to you?"

"Not yet, he ain't, and if I sight him fust he ain't going to say
anything. I ain't got time for him to get his pumps working on me."

"You mark my word, he will say something, and don't you believe one word
when he does. I don't see what's got into him. Somebody has bewitched
him."

The Captain stared at her. Here were signs of a new kind of microbe, and
he could make neither head nor tail of it. It was next to the
miraculous for Mrs. Beaver to espouse an unpopular cause when there was
interesting gossip to repeat.

"You don't say!" exclaimed the seaman.

"I do say. Hank Simpson is the only man in this town beside you who's
got back-bone enough to stand by himself! He'd struck Harry last night
if that Hicks hadn't held him off. I wish he had hit him hard, maybe it
would have brought him to his senses."

"Are you trying to tell me that Harry's got the gossiping fever?"

"Not only that, but what he's saying is pure lies. I can't see why he
wants to do other people's dirty work," complained the unhappy woman.

"I cal'late you'd best give me some