rr?"

Old Mrs. Parker closed her lips and wagged her head with a world of dark
significance.

"What is it, Margaret?"

Mrs. Parker lowered her voice.

"He stimmylates," she said.

It was about the worst she could have said about poor Nort, except one
thing--in Hempfield.

Anthy tried to draw her out still further, but not another word would
she say. A long time afterward, when Anthy told me of this incident (how
I have coveted the knowledge of every least thing in the lives of Nort
and Anthy!), when she told me, she said reflectively: "I can't tell you
how those words hurt me."

And then came the surprising telephone call from the old Captain, with
the news that he had discharged Ed Smith!

It was characteristic of Anthy that when she put down the telephone
receiver she was laughing. The tone of the Captain's voice and the
picture she had of him, dramatically discharging Ed, were irresistible.
But it was only for a moment, and the old problem of the _Star_ leaped
at her again. In the letters to Lincoln here in my desk I find that she
referred to it repeatedly: "Ed Smith will not get on much longer with
our vagabond, who isn't _really_ a vagabond at all; and as for Uncle
Newt, it seems to me that he grows more difficult every day. What
_shall_ I do?"

Now that the crisis was here, she was very quiet about it. When she had
put on her hat she stepped for a moment into the quiet, old-fashioned
living-room, where her desk was, and the fireplace before which she and
her father had sat together for so many, many evenings, and the picture
of Lincoln over the mantel. She had not changed it in the least
particular since her father's death, and it had always a soothing effect
upon her: the picture of her mother, the familiar, well-thumbed books
which her father had delighted in, the very chair where he loved to sit.
She did not feel bold or confident, but the moment in the old room gave
her a curious sense of calmness, as though there were something strong
and sure back of her. She glanced up quickly at the countenance of Mr.
Lincoln, and turned and went out of the house.

The explosion at the office had been followed by a dead calm. We were
all awaiting the arrival of Anthy. After all, she was the owner of the
_Star_. What would she do?

I saw Ed Smith glancing surreptitiously out of the window, and even the
old Captain, in spite of his jauntiness, seemed ill at ease. Only
Fergus remained undisturbed. That Scotchma