strings I shall probably send for both. Isaiah Chase,
behave yourself! What is the matter with you?"

Isaiah, during his years as sea cook, had learned to obey orders. Mary's
tone had its effect upon him. He dropped one hand, but he still held
the photograph in the other. And he stared at it as if it possessed some
sort of horrible charm which frightened and fascinated at the same time.
Mary had never seen him so excited.

"Ed Farmer!" he exclaimed. "Oh, I swan to man! I don't see how--Say, it
IS him, ain't it, Mary-'Gusta? But of course 'tis! I can see 'tis with
my own eyes. My godfreys mighty!"

Mary shook her head. "If I didn't know you were a blue ribboner,
Isaiah," she said, "I should be suspicious. That photograph was sent me
from the West. It is a picture of a gentleman named Edwin Smith, someone
I have never seen and I'm perfectly sure you never have. Why in the
world it should make you behave as if you needed a strait-jacket I can't
see. Does Mr. Smith resemble someone you know?"

Isaiah's mouth fell open and remained so as he gazed first at the
photograph and then at her.

"Ed--Edwin Smith," he repeated. "Edwin Smith! I--I don't know no Edwin
Smith. Look here, now; honest, Mary-'Gusta, AIN'T that a picture of Ed
Farmer?"

Mary laughed. "Of course it isn't," she said. "Who is Ed Farmer, pray?"

Isaiah did not answer. He was holding the photograph near the end of his
own nose now and examining it with eager scrutiny, muttering comments as
he did so.

"If it ain't him it's a better picture than if 'twas," was one of his
amazing observations. "Don't seem as if two folks could look so much
alike and not be. And yet--and yet I can see--I can see now--this
feller's hair's pretty nigh white and Ed's was dark brown. But then
if this feller was Ed he'd be--he'd be--let's see--he'd be all of
thirty-five years older than he was thirty-five years ago and that would
account--"

Mary burst out laughing.

"Do be still, Isaiah!" she broke in. "You are perfectly idiotic. That
man's name is Smith, I tell you."

Mr. Chase heaved a sigh. "You're sartin 'tis?" he asked.

"Of course I am."

"Well, then I cal'late it must be. But if Ed Farmer had lived all these
years and had had his tintype took he wouldn't get one to favor him more
than that does, I bet you. My, it give me a start, comin' onto me so
unexpected!"

"But who is Ed Farmer?" asked Mary. The name had meant nothing to her so
far. And yet, even as she sp