't laugh as if 'twas awful funny, either. Who's the joke on?"

"It's on me, just now.

"Um-hm. I'd be willin' to be joked ten times a day, at that price. And
I'd undertake to laugh heartier than you're doin', too. What's it for?
the money, I mean."

"It's for some 'work' I did yesterday."

She was more astonished than ever.

"Work! You?" she exclaimed.

"Yes. But don't worry; I shan't do it again."

"Land! THAT wouldn't worry me. What sort of work was it?"

"Oh, I--I picked up something adrift in the bay."

"Um-hm. I see. Somethin' belongin' to the Coltons, I s'pose likely. Why
won't you do it again? Ain't they paid you enough?"

Again I laughed. "They have paid me too much," I said, bitterly. "What I
picked up wasn't worth the money."

CHAPTER VII

And that, in the end, was the answer I sent to Carver with his five
dollars. I spent an hour in my room trying to compose and write a
sarcastic reply to his note, but I finally gave it up. Then I put the
money in an envelope, addressed the latter, and sent it to the big house
by Lute. Lute was delighted with the errand.

"You'll explain to Dorindy, will you?" he asked. "She cal'lates I'm
goin' to clean the henhouse. But I can do that some other time."

"You can--yes."

"Do you know--" Lute leaned against the clothes post and prepared to
philosophize. "Do you know," he observed, "that I don't take no stock in
cleanin' henhouses and such?"

"Don't you? I'm surprised."

"You're surprised 'cause you ain't thought it out. That's my way; I
always think things out. Most folks are selfish. They want to do what
they want to do, and they want others to want the same thing. If the
others don't want it, then they like to make 'em have it; anyhow.
Dorindy is crazy on cleanin'. She wouldn't live in a dirty house no
more'n she'd live in a lobster pot. It's the way she's made. But a hen
ain't made that way. A hen LIKES dirt; she scratches in it and digs
holes in it to waller in, and heaves it over herself all day long. If
you left it to the hens would THEY clean their house? I guess not! So, I
say what's the use of cruelizin' 'em by makin' 'em live clean when they
don't want to? I--"

"Wait a minute," I interrupted. "Lute, you're wasting your breath. It is
Dorinda you should explain all this to, not to me. And you're wasting my
time. I want you to take that envelope to Mr. Carver; and I want you to
go now."

"Well, I'm goin', ain't I? I was only just sayin'--"