r lips
movin'. 'Well,' says I, 'you CAN talk, can't you, sis, even if
it's only to yourself. What was you talkin' to yourself about,
eh?' She didn't seem to want to answer; just sort of reddened up,
you know; but I kept right after her. Finally she owned up she was
countin'. 'What was you countin'?' says I. Well, she didn't want
to tell that, neither. Finally I dragged it out of her that she
was countin' how many words I'd said since I started to tell about
Melissy Busteed and what she said about Luther Small's wife's aunt,
the one that's so wheezed up with asthma and Doctor Parker don't
seem to be able to do nothin' to help. 'So you was countin' my
words, was you?' says I. 'Well, that's good business, I must say!
How many have I said?' She looked solemn and shook her head. 'I
had to give it up,' says she. 'It makes my head ache to count fast
very long. Doesn't it give you a headache to count fast, Mr.
Winslow?' Jed, he mumbled some kind of foolishness about some
things givin' him earache. I laughed at the two of 'em. 'Humph!'
says I, 'the only kind of aches I have is them in my bones,'
meanin' my rheumatiz, you understand. Shavin's he looked moony up
at the roof for about a week and a half, same as he's liable to do,
and then he drawled out: 'You see he DOES have headache, Babbie,'
says he. Now did you ever hear such fool talk outside of an
asylum? He and that Armstrong kid are well matched. No wonder she
sits in there and gapes at him half the day."

Captain Sam Hunniwell and his daughter were hugely tickled.

"Jed's got a girl at last," crowed the captain. "I'd about given
up hope, Jed. I was fearful that the bloom of your youth would
pass away from you and you wouldn't keep company with anybody.
You're so bashful that I know you'd never call on a young woman,
but I never figured that one might begin callin' on you. Course
she's kind of extra young, but she'll grow out of that, give her
time."

Maud Hunniwell laughed merrily, enjoying Mr. Winslow's confusion.
"Oh, the little girl is only the bait, Father," she declared. "It
is the pretty widow that Jed is fishing for. She'll be calling
here soon, or he'll be calling there. Isn't that true, Jed? Own
up, now. Oh, see him blush, Father! Just see him!"

Jed, of course, denied that he was blushing. His fair tormentor
had no mercy.

"You must be," she insisted. "At any rate your face is very, very
red. I'll leave it to Father. Isn't