"Looks
as if facin' my jokes was no child's play, don't it," he observed.
"Well, I will give in that gettin' any fun out of 'em is a man's
size job."

On the following Monday the young man took up his duties in the
bank. Captain Hunniwell interviewed him, liked him, and hired him
all in the same forenoon. By the end of the first week of their
association as employer and employee the captain liked him still
better. He dropped in at the windmill shop to crow over the fact.

"He takes hold same as an old-time first mate used to take hold of
a green crew," he declared. "He had his job jumpin' to the whistle
before the second day was over. I declare I hardly dast to wake up
mornin's for fear I'll find out our havin' such a smart feller is
only a dream and that the livin' calamity is Lute Small. And to
think," he added, "that you knew about him for the land knows how
long and would only hint instead of tellin'. I don't know as you'd
have told yet if his sister hadn't told first. Eh? Would you?"

Jed deliberately picked a loose bristle from his paint brush.

"Maybe not," he admitted.

"Gracious king! Well, WHY not?"

"Oh, I don't know. I'm kind of--er--funny that way. Like to take
my own time, I guess likely. Maybe you've noticed it, Sam."

"Eh? MAYBE I've noticed it? A blind cripple that was born deef
and dumb would have noticed that the first time he ran across you.
What on earth are you doin' to that paint brush; tryin' to
mesmerize it?"

His friend, who had been staring mournfully at the brush, now laid
it down.

"I was tryin' to decide," he drawled, "whether it needed hair tonic
or a wig. So you like this Charlie Phillips, do you?"

"Sartin sure I do! And the customers like him, too. Why, old
Melissa Busteed was in yesterday and he waited on her for half an
hour, seemed so, and when the agony was over neither one of 'em had
got mad enough so anybody outside the buildin' would notice it.
And that's a miracle that ain't happened in that bank for more'n
ONE year. Why, I understand Melissa went down street tellin' all
hands what a fine young man we'd got workin' for us. . . . Here,
what are you laughin' at?"

The word was ill-chosen; Jed seldom laughed, but he had smiled
slightly and the captain noticed it.

"What are you grinnin' at?" he repeated.

Jed's hand moved across his chin.

"Gab Bearse was in a spell ago," he replied, "and he was tellin'
about what Melissa said."

"Well, s