that is. He remembered portions of Miss Barbara's
conversation and determined to repeat them to Captain Sam
Hunniwell, the next time the latter called.

And that next time was the following forenoon. Captain Sam, on the
way to his office at the bank, stopped his car at the edge of the
sidewalk and came into the shop. Jed, having finished painting
wooden sailors for the present, was boxing an assorted collection
of mills and vanes to be sent South, for a certain demand for
"Winslow mills" was developing at the winter as well as the summer
resorts. It was far from winter yet, but this purchaser was
forehanded.

"Hello, Jed," hailed the captain, "busy as usual. You've got the
busy bee a mile astern so far as real hustlin' is concerned."

Jed took a nail from the half dozen held between his lips and
applied its point to the box top. His sentences for the next few
minutes were mumbled between nails and punctuated with blows of the
hammer.

"The busy bee," he mumbled, "can sting other folks. He don't get
stung much himself. Collectin' honey's easier, I cal'late, than
collectin' money."

Captain Sam grunted. "Are you stung again?" he demanded. "Who did
it this time?"

Jed pointed with the hammer to an envelope lying on a pile of
wooden crows. The captain took up the envelope and inspected its
contents.

"'We regret to inform you,' he read aloud, 'that the Funny Novelty
Company of this town went into bankruptcy a month ago.

"'JOHN HOLWAY.'"

"Humph!" he sniffed. "That's short and sweet. Owed you somethin',
I presume likely?"

Jed nodded. "Seventeen dollars and three cents," he admitted,
between the remaining nails.

"Sho! Well, if you could get the seventeen dollars you'd throw off
the three cents, wouldn't you?"

"No-o."

"You wouldn't? Why not?"

Jed pried a crookedly driven nail out again and substituted a fresh
one.

"Can't afford to," he drawled. "That's the part I'll probably
get."

"Guess you're right. Who's this John Holway?"

"Eh. . . . Why, when he ordered the mills of me last summer he was
president of the Funny Novelty Company up there to Manchester."

"Good Lord! Well, I admire his nerve. How did you come to sell
these--er--Funny folks, in the first place?"

Mr. Winslow looked surprised.

"Why, they wrote and sent an order," he replied.

"Did, eh? And you didn't think of lookin' 'em up to see whether
they was good for anything or good for nothin'? Just sa