which all Orham had discussed since the previous afternoon, she had
a fresh bit of news. The government had leased a large section of
land along the bay at East Harniss, the next village to Orham and
seven or eight miles distant, and there was to be a military
aviation camp there.

"Oh, it's true!" she declared, emphatically. "Father has known
that the Army people have been thinking of it for some time, but it
was really decided and the leases signed only last Saturday. They
will begin building the barracks and the buildings--the--oh, what
do they call those big sheds they keep the aeroplanes in?"

"The hangars," said Winslow, promptly.

"Yes, that's it. They will begin building those right away." She
paused and looked at him curiously. "How did you know they called
them hangars, Jed?" she asked.

"Eh? . . . Oh, I've read about 'em in the newspapers, that's
all. . . . H-u-u-m. . . . So we'll have aeroplanes flyin' around
here pretty soon, I suppose. Well, well!"

"Yes. And there'll be lots and lots of the flying men--the what-
do-you-call-'ems--aviators, and officers in uniform--and all sorts.
What fun! I'm just crazy about uniforms!"

Her eyes snapped. Jed, in his quiet way, seemed excited, too. He
was gazing absently out of the window as if he saw, in fancy, a
procession of aircraft flying over Orham flats.

"They'll be flyin' up out there," he said, musingly. "And I'll see
'em--I will. Sho!"

Miss Hunniwell regarded him mischievously. "Jed," she asked,
"would you like to be an aviator?"

Jed's answer was solemnly given. "I'm afraid I shouldn't be much
good at the job," he drawled.

His visitor burst into another laugh. He looked at her over his
glasses.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing; I--I was just thinking of you in a uniform, that's
all."

Jed smiled his slow, fleeting smile.

"I guess likely I would be pretty funny," he admitted. "Any
Germans I met would probably die laughin' and that might help along
some."

But after Miss Hunniwell had gone he sat for some minutes gazing
out of the window, the wistful, dreamy look on his lean, homely
face. Then he sighed, and resumed his painting.

That afternoon, about half past five, he was still at his task
when, hearing the doorbell ring, he rose and went into the front
shop. To his astonishment the shop was empty. He looked about for
the expected customer or caller, whoever he or she might be, and
saw no one. He stepp