er an
unnecessary question? When Babbie and I came here it was with the
understanding that we were to be on trial for a month. We had gone
into no details at all, except that the rent for this one month
should be forty dollars. You were, as I understood it, to consider
the question of our staying and, if you liked us and liked the idea
of renting the house at all, you were to come to me and discuss the
matter. The month is up and you haven't said a word on the
subject. And, knowing what your feelings HAD been, I of course
realized that you did not wish us to remain, and so, of course, we
are going. I am sorry, very sorry. Babbie and I love this little
house, and we wish you might have cared to have us stay in it, but--"

"Hold on! hold on!" Jed was, for him, almost energetic. "Mrs.
Armstrong, ma'am, do you mean to tell me you're goin' back to
Luretta Smalley's because you think I don't want you to stay? Is
that it, honest truth?"

"Why, of course, it is. What else?"

"And--and 'tain't because you can't stand me any longer, same as
Mother used to say?"

"Can't stand you? Your mother used to say? What DO you mean, Mr.
Winslow?"

"I mean--I mean you ain't goin' because I used to wash my face out
in the yard, and--and holler and sing mornin's and look so
everlastin' homely--and--and be what everybody calls a town crank--
and--"

"Mr. Winslow! PLEASE!"

"And--and you and Babbie would stay right here if--if you thought I
wanted you to?"

"Why, of course. But you don't, do you?"

Before Jed could answer the outside door was thrown open without
knock or preliminary warning, and Captain Sam Hunniwell, dripping
water like a long-haired dog after a bath, strode into the kitchen.

"Mornin', ma'am," he said, nodding to Mrs. Armstrong. Then,
turning to the maker of windmills: "You're the feller I'm lookin'
for," he declared. "Is what Philander Hardy told me just now true?
Is it?"

Jed was dreamily staring out of the window. He was smiling, a
seraphic smile. Receiving no reply, Captain Sam angrily repeated
his question. "Is it true?" he demanded.

"No-o, no, I guess 'tisn't. I'd know better if I knew what he told
you."

"He told me that Mrs. Armstrong here was movin' back to Luretta
Smalley's to-day. Jed Winslow, have you been big enough fool--"

Jed held up the big hand.

"Yes," he said. "I always am."

"You always are--what?"

"A big enough fool. Sam, what is a lease?"

"What is a l