wn into his music
box. Isn't he a funny man, Mamma?"

"He is indeed, Babbie."

"Yes. Petunia and I think he's--he's perfectly scrushe-aking.
'Twas awful nice of him to fix our clock, wasn't it, Mamma."

"Yes, dear."

"Yes. And I know why he did it; he told me. 'Twas on Petunia's
account. He said not to let her know it but he'd taken
consider'ble of a shine to her. I think he's taken a shine to me,
don't you, Mamma?"

"I'm sure of it."

"So am I. And I 'most guess he's taken one to you, too. Anyhow he
watches you such a lot and notices so many things. He asked me to-
day if you had been crying. I said no. You hadn't, had you,
Mamma?"

Mrs. Armstrong evaded the question by changing the subject. She
decided she must be more careful in hiding her feelings when her
landlord was about. She had had no idea that he could be so
observing; certainly he did not look it.

But her resolution was a little late. Jed had made up his mind
that something was troubling his fair tenant. Again and again, now
that he was coming to know her better and better, he had noticed
the worn, anxious look on her face, and once before the day of the
clock repairing he had seen her when it seemed to him that she had
been crying. He did not mention his observations or inferences to
any one, even Captain Sam, but he was sure he was right. Mrs.
Armstrong was worried and anxious and he did not like the idea. He
wished he might help her, but of course he could not. Another man,
a normal man, one not looked upon by a portion of the community as
"town crank," might have been able to help, might have known how to
offer his services and perhaps have them accepted, but not he, not
Jedidah Edgar Wilfred Winslow. But he wished he could. She had
asked him to consider her a real friend, and to Jed, who had so
few, a friend was a possession holy and precious.

Meanwhile the war was tightening its grip upon Orham as upon every
city, town and hamlet in the land. At first it had been a thing to
read about in the papers, to cheer for, to keep the flags flying.
But it had been far off, unreal. Then came the volunteering, and
after that the draft, and the reality drew a little nearer. Work
upon the aviation camp at East Harniss had actually begun. The
office buildings were up and the sheds for the workmen. They were
erecting frames for the barracks, so Gabriel Bearse reported. The
sight of a uniform in Orham streets was no longer suc