person. There were so many things to talk about.
Among these was one morsel which Gabe rolled succulently beneath
his tongue. Charles Phillips, "'cordin' to everybody's tell," was
keeping company with Maud Hunniwell.

"There ain't no doubt of it," declared Mr. Bearse. "All hands is
talkin' about it. Looks's if Cap'n Sam would have a son-in-law on
his hands pretty soon. How do you cal'late he'd like the idea,
Shavin's?"

Jed squinted along the edge of the board he was planing. He made
no reply. Gabe tried again.

"How do you cal'late Cap'n Sam'll like the notion of his pet
daughter takin' up with another man?" he queried. Jed was still
mute. His caller lost patience.

"Say, what ails you?" he demanded. "Can't you say nothin'?"

Mr. Winslow put down the board and took up another.

"Ye-es," he drawled.

"Then why don't you, for thunder sakes?"

"Eh? . . . Um. . . Oh, I did."

"Did what?"

"Say nothin'."

"Oh, you divilish idiot! Stop tryin' to be funny. I asked you how
you thought Cap'n Sam would take the notion of Maud's havin' a
steady beau? She's had a good many after her, but looks as if she
was stuck on this one for keeps."

Jed sighed and looked over his spectacles at Mr. Bearse. The
latter grew uneasy under the scrutiny.

"What in time are you lookin' at me like that for?" he asked,
pettishly.

The windmill maker sighed again. "Why--er--Gab," he drawled, "I
was just thinkin' likely YOU might be stuck for keeps."

"Eh? Stuck? What are you talkin' about?"

"Stuck on that box you're sittin' on. I had the glue pot standin'
on that box just afore you came in and . . . er . . . it leaks
consider'ble."

Mr. Bearse raspingly separated his nether garment from the top of
the box and departed, expressing profane opinions. Jed's lips
twitched for an instant, then he puckered them and began to
whistle.

But, although he had refused to discuss the matter with Gabriel
Bearse, he realized that there was a strong element of probability
in the latter's surmise. It certainly did look as if the spoiled
daughter of Orham's bank president had lost her heart to her
father's newest employee. Maud had had many admirers; some very
earnest and lovelorn swains had hopefully climbed the Hunniwell
front steps only to sorrowfully descend them again. Miss Melissa
Busteed and other local scandal scavengers had tartly classified
the young lady as the "worst little flirt on the whole Cape," which
wa