l be careful; you can count on
me, Mrs. Ruth."

She looked down into his homely, earnest face. "I do," she said,
simply, and went out of the room. For several minutes after she
had gone Jed sat there gazing after her. Then he sighed, picked up
his pencil and turned again to the drawing of the gull.

And the following evening young Phillips came. Jed, looking from
his shop window, saw the depot-wagon draw up at the gate. Barbara
was the first to alight. Philander Hardy came around to the back
of the vehicle and would have assisted her, but she jumped down
without his assistance. Then came Ruth and, after her, a slim
young fellow carrying a traveling bag. It was dusk and Jed could
not see his face plainly, but he fancied that he noticed a
resemblance to his sister in the way he walked and the carriage of
his head. The two went into the little house together and Jed
returned to his lonely supper. He was a trifle blue that evening,
although he probably would not have confessed it. Least of all
would he have confessed the reason, which was that he was just a
little jealous. He did not grudge his tenant her happiness in her
brother's return, but he could not help feeling that from that time
on she would not be as intimate and confidential with him, Jed
Winslow, as she had been. After this it would be to this brother
of hers that she would turn for help and advice. Well, of course,
that was what she should do, what any one of sense would do, but
Jed was uncomfortable all the same. Also, because he was himself,
he felt a sense of guilty remorse at being uncomfortable.

The next morning he was presented to the new arrival. It was
Barbara who made the presentation. She came skipping into the
windmill shop leading the young man by the hand.

"Uncle Jed," she said, "this is my Uncle Charlie. He's been away
and he's come back and he's going to work here always and live in
the bank. No, I mean he's going to work in the bank always and
live-- No, I don't, but you know what I do mean, don't you, Uncle
Jed?"

Charles Phillips smiled. "If he does he must be a mind-reader,
Babbie," he said. Then, extending his hand, he added: "Glad to
know you, Mr. Winslow. I've heard a lot about you from Babbie and
Sis."

Jed might have replied that he had heard a lot about him also, but
he did not. Instead he said "How d'ye do," shook the proffered
hand, and looked the speaker over. What he saw impressed him
favorably.