at have you got
against him, Phin? You don't know anything to his discredit, do
you?"

"Never you mind whether I do or not."

Captain Jerry grunted but seemed disinclined to press the point
further. Every one was surprised therefore when Jed Winslow moved
across to where Phineas was standing, and looking mildly down at
the little man, asked: "Do you know anything against him, Phin?"

"None of your business. What are you buttin' in for, Shavin's?"

"I ain't. I just asked you, that's all. DO you know anything
against Charlie Phillips?"

"None of your business, I tell you."

"I know it ain't. But do you, Phin?"

Each repetition of the question had been made in the same mild,
monotonous drawl. Captain Jerry and the other loungers burst into
a laugh. Mr. Babbitt's always simmering temper boiled over.

"No, I don't," he shouted. "But I don't know anything in his
favor, neither. He's a pet of Sam Hunniwell and that's enough for
me. Sam Hunniwell and every one of his chums can go to the devil.
Every one of 'em; do you understand that, Jed Winslow?"

Jed rubbed his chin. The solemn expression of his face did not
change an atom. "Thank you, Phin," he drawled. "When I'm ready to
start I'll get you to give me a letter of introduction."

Jed had been fearful that her brother's coming might lessen the
intimate quality of Ruth Armstrong's friendship with and dependence
upon him. He soon discovered, to his delight, that these fears
were groundless. He found that the very fact that Ruth had made
him her sole confidant provided a common bond which brought them
closer together. Ruth's pride in her brother's success at the bank
and in the encomiums of the townsfolk had to find expression
somewhere. She could express them to her landlord and she did.
Almost every day she dropped in at the windmill shop for a moment's
call and chat, the subject of that chat always, of course, the
same.

"I told you he would succeed," she declared, her eyes shining and
her face alight. "I told you so, Jed. And he has. Mr. Barber,
the cashier, told me yesterday that Charles was the best man they
had had in the bank for years. And every time I meet Captain
Hunniwell he stops to shake hands and congratulates me on having
such a brother. And they like him, not only because he is
successful in the bank, but for himself; so many people have told
me so. Why, for the first time since we came to Orham I begin to
feel as if I wer