k entirely."

Claude wheeled away in order to hide the spasm that shot across his
face. "Ah, shut up, damn you!" was all he had the strength to say, but
the tone moved Jim to compunction.

The Irishman in him came out as he tried to make things easier for
Claude, without at the same time desisting from his object. "Sure _you_
couldn't tell that that was the way she'd take it. You couldn't tell
that at all. If you'd known it beforehand you'd have acted quite
different. We all know that. Any one else might have done the same thing
that was--that was"--he sought a consolatory phrase--"that was like
you." He plunged still further. "I might have done it myself if I
hadn't--hadn't been built the other way 'round. Only that won't matter
to old man Fay--nor to Matt, neither."

Claude turned so suddenly pale at the mention of the brother that Jim
followed up his advantage. "The old fellow has to be out of this by
to-morrow night, and Matt gets his walking-ticket from Colcord the next
morning." He laid his strong, earthy hand on the neat summer
black-and-white check of Claude's shoulder with the lightest hint of
turning him in the direction of the gate. "Now if you'll make yourself
scarce for a spell I'll be able to manage them both and coax them back
to their senses."

Though he felt himself irresistibly impelled toward the road, Claude
made an effort to recover his dignity. "If you think I'm going to run
away--"

Jim slipped his arm through his companion's, helping him along. "Sure
you're not going to run away. Lay low for a spell, that's all you'll be
doing. Old man Fay is crazy--stark, staring, roaring crazy. It isn't
you, and it isn't Rosie; it's having to get out of here. It was bluff
what I said a minute ago about the place being too small for his plant.
He's dotty on these three old hothouses. My Lord! you'd think no one
ever had hothouses before and never would again. You'd think it was the
end of the world, to hear him talk. You'd die laughing. The fellow he'd
like to put it over on is your old man! Gives me a mouthful about him
three or four times a day--and it'd be a barr'l full of buckshot in the
back if he could get at _him_. Lucky he's in Europe. But I'll calm him
down, don't you fret; and I'll calm down Matt, once I get at him. Let me
have two months--let me have a month!--and I'll have 'em coming to you
like a gray squirrel comes for nuts."

Out in the roadway Claude made a last effort to react against his