pretty thick; he's got a mortgage on Ase's house, you
know. And Ase, bein' as he's doin' the carpenterin' over to Colton's,
hears a lot from the servants, I s'pose likely. Leastways, if they don't
tell all their bosses' affairs they're a new breed of hired help, that's
all I've got to say. Cap'n Jed says Mr. Colton cal'lates you're a fool."

"Yes. So I've heard. What did the Captain say to that?"

"Seemed to think 'twas a pretty good joke. He said he didn't care how
big a fool you was so long's you was feeble-minded on the right side."

So there it was again. My imagined importance in the eyes of the
townspeople simmered down to about that. I was an imbecile, but they
must pretend to believe me something else because I owned something they
wanted. Well, I still owned it.

"Of course," continued Dorinda, "I didn't tell him you was figgerin' not
to sell the land at all. If I had, I s'pose he'd have thought--"

She stopped short.

"You suppose what?" I asked.

"Oh, nothin'."

She had said enough. I could guess the rest. I walked to the window and
stood, looking out. The clouds were breaking and, as I stood there, a
ray of sunlight streamed through a rift and struck the bay just at the
spot where the dingy had grounded. The shallow water above the flat
flashed into fire. I am not superstitious, as a general thing, but the
sight comforted me. It seemed like an omen. There was the one bright
spot in the outlook. There, at least, I had not behaved like a "fool
Rube." There I had compelled respect and been taken seriously.

Dorinda spoke again.

"You ain't asked who your other caller was," she observed.

"Was there another?"

"Um-hm. I told you there was two. After Cap'n Jed left that chauffeur
feller from the big house come here. He fetched a note for you. Here
'tis."

I took the note. It was addressed to me in a man's handwriting, not that
of "Big Jim" Colton. I opened the envelope and read:

Roscoe Paine.

Sir: The enclosed is in payment for your work. No receipt is necessary.

Yours truly,

B. VICTOR CARVER.

The "enclosed" was a five-dollar bill.

I stood staring at the note. Then I began to laugh.

"What's the joke?" asked Dorinda, who had not taken her eyes from my
face.

"This," said I, handing her the money. She looked at it in astonishment.

"Um-hm," she said, drily. "Well, I--well, a five-dollar bill may be a
joke to you, but _I_ ain't familiar enough with one to laugh at it. You
don