And its owner looked quite capable of doing it, if he
deemed it necessary, in fact he looked as if he would rather have
enjoyed it. He swept into the room like a northwest breeze, and
two bundles of wooden strips, cut to the size of mill arms,
clattered to the floor as he did so.

"Hello, Jed!" he hailed, in a voice which measured up to the rest
of him. Then, noticing Mr. Bearse for the first time, he added:
"Hello, Gabe, what are you doin' here?"

Gabriel hastened to explain. His habitual desire to please and
humor each person he met--each person of consequence, that is; very
poor people or village eccentrics like Jed Winslow did not much
matter, of course--was in this case augmented by a particular
desire to please Captain Sam Hunniwell. Captain Sam, being one of
Orham's most influential men, was not, in Mr. Bearse's estimation,
at all the sort of person whom it was advisable to displease. He
might--and did--talk disparagingly of him behind his back, as he
did behind the back of every one else, but he smiled humbly and
spoke softly in his presence. The consciousness of having just
been talking of him, however, of having visited that shop for the
express purpose of talking about him, made the explaining process a
trifle embarrassing.

"Oh, howd'ye do, howd'ye do, Cap'n Hunniwell?" stammered Gabriel.
"Nice day, ain't it, sir? Yes, sir, 'tis a nice day. I was just--
er--that is, I just run in to see Shavin's here; to make a little
call, you know. We was just settin' here talkin', wan't we,
Shavin's--Jed, I mean?"

Mr. Winslow stood his completed sailor man in a rack to dry.

"Ya-as," he drawled, solemnly, "that was about it, I guess. Have a
chair, Sam, won't you? . . . That was about it, we was sittin' and
talkin' . . . I was sittin' and Gab--Gabe, I mean--was talkin'."

Captain Sam chuckled. As Winslow and Mr. Bearse were occupying the
only two chairs in the room he accepted the invitation in its broad
sense and, turning an empty box upon end, sat down on that.

"So Gabe was talkin', eh?" he repeated. "Well, that's singular.
How'd that happen, Gabe?"

Mr. Bearse looked rather foolish. "Oh, we was just--just talkin'
about--er--this and that," he said, hastily. "Just this and that,
nothin' partic'lar. Cal'late I'll have to be runnin' along now,
Jed."

Jed Winslow selected a new and unpainted sailor from the pile near
him. He eyed it dreamily.

"Well, Gabe," he observed, "if you must, you