he oil lamps flickering in the puffs of a warm spring wind.

He took one glance toward the post office, and then went right down
the street and out upon the common. The house that he was seeking
stood a little way off the road, and a broad beam of light from an
open window proved of assistance as he crossed the broken and uneven
ground. While he groped for the bell handle inside the dark porch he
could hear, close at hand, a purring and whirring sound of wheels that
he recognized as the unmistakable noise made by a carpenter's lathe.
As soon as he rang the bell the lathe stopped working, and next moment
the Baptist pastor came to the door.

"Mr. Dale--is it not?

"Yes--good evening, Mr. Osborn."

"Pray come in."

"Thank you. Could you spare time for a chat?"

"Surely. I was expecting you."

Dale drew back, and spoke coldly, almost rudely.

"Indeed? I am not aware of any reason for your doing so."

"I ought to have said, _hoping_ to see you."

"Oh. May I ask why?"

Mr. Osborn laughed contentedly. "Since I saw you at our service, you
know. Please come into my room."

It was not an attractive or nicely furnished room. All one side of it
was occupied by the lathe, bench, and tools; and on this side the
boards of the floor, with a carpet rolled back, were covered with
wood shavings.

"There, take off your wraps and be seated, Mr. Dale. I'll sort my
rubbish. Stuffy night, isn't it?"

Dale noticed that there was no bookcase, and he could not detect more
than six books anywhere lying about. Perhaps there were some in the
chiffonier. He would have expected to find quite a little library at a
house tenanted by this sort of man.

"What do you think of that?" And Mr. Osborn handed him the small round
box which he had been turning. "I amuse myself so. It's my hobby."

"You don't feel the want to read of an evening?"

"No, I'm not a book-worm. But one has to do something; so I took up
this. If folk chaff me"--and Mr. Osborn smiled and nodded his
head--"well, I tell them that infinitely better people than I have
done carpentering in their time. Of course they don't always follow
the allusion."

Dale himself did not follow it. He understood that this was light and
airy conversation provided by Mr. Osborn for the amiable purpose of
putting him at his ease. He had taken off the slouch hat and loose
coat that had made him look like some rough shepherd or herdsman; and
now, as he sat stiffly on a chair, showing his