*

"I shouldn't call the paint properly hardened on myself. Nor won't be
yet-a-piece, if you ask my opinion." It was young Benjamin's father
said these words to the veteran in charge of the pier-turnstile; who,
as an early bird, was counting his tickets, so to speak, before they
were hatched--his actual professional cabinet-seance not having begun.
For the pier wasn't open yet, and his permission to Fenwick to pass
the open side-gate was an indulgence to an acquaintance.

His reply to the speaker was that he must bide awhile in patience,
then. Paint was good to dry while the grass grew, and there was plenty
else to fret about for them as wanted it. He seemed only to mention
this from consideration of the wants of others. He either had plenty
to fret about, or was happier without anything. He ended with, "What
have you to say to that, Jake Tracy?" showing that the father of
Benjamin was Jacob, following precedent.

But Jacob preferred not to be led away into ethics. "I should stand
'em by, in the shadow, for the matter of a day or two," said he.
"In yander." And the life-belts being safely disposed of, he added:
"I thought to carry back number fower from the pier-end, and make a
finish of the job. But looking to the condition of this paint, maybe
better leave her for service. She'll do as well next week." But the
moralist inclined to make a finish of the job. Who was going overboard
afore the end of next week? And supposing they did, the resources of
civilisation wouldn't be exhausted, for we could throw 'em a clean
one paint or no.

"Send your lad to fetch her along, Jake. I'll make myself answerable."
And young Benjamin, confirmed by a nod from his father, departed for
the mysteriously feminine hencoop.

Just as the boy turned to go, Fenwick came up, and, paying no
attention to greetings from the two men, passed through the side-gate
and walked rather briskly away along the pier. Each of the men looked
at the other, as though asking a question. But neither answered, and
then both said, "Queer, too!" A nascent discussion of whether one or
other should not follow him--for the look of his face had gone home
to both, as he was, of course, well known to them--was cut short by
Jacob Tracy saying, "Here's his daughter coming to see for him." And,
just after, Sally had passed them, leaving them pleasantly stirred
by the bright smile and eye-flash that seemed this morning brighter
than ever. The boy shouted something fr