e was still, reticent, unobtrusive. Once I saw him
most considerately helping a cripple up the lane to the local Baptist
Church.

"What's the trouble between Burridge and Palmer?" I asked of the
sail-maker finally, coming to think that here, if anywhere, lay the
solution of the difficulty.

"Two big fish in too small a basket," he responded laconically.

"Can't agree, eh?"

"They both want to lead, or did," he said. "Elihu's a beaten man,
though, now." He paused and then added, "I'm sorry for Elihu. He's a
good man at heart, one of the kindest men you ever saw, when you let him
follow his natural way. He's good to the poor, and he's carried more
slow-pay people than any man in this country, I do believe. He won't
collect an old debt by law. Don't believe in it. No, sir. Just a
kind-hearted man, but he loves to rule."

"How about Palmer?" I inquired.

"Just the same way exactly. He loves to rule, too. Got a good heart,
too, but he's got a lot more money than Elihu and so people pay more
attention to him, that's all. When Elihu was getting the attention he
was just the finest man you ever saw, kind, generous, good-natured.
People love to be petted, at least some people do--you know they do.
When you don't pet 'em they get kind o' sour and crabbed like. Now
that's all that's the matter with Elihu, every bit of it. He's sour,
now, and a little lonely, I expect. He's drove away every one from him,
or nearly all, 'cept his wife and some of his kin. Anybody can do a good
grocery business here, with the strangers off the boats"--the harbor was
a lively one--"all you have to do is carry a good stock. That's why he
gets along so well. But he's drove nearly all the local folks away from
him."

I listened to this comfortable sail-loft sage, and going back to the
grocery store one afternoon took another look at the long, grim-faced
silent figure. He was sitting in the shadow of one of his moldy corners,
and if there had ever been any light of merriment in his face it was not
there now. He looked as fixed and solemn as an ancient puritan, and yet
there was something so melancholy in the man's eye, so sad and
disappointed, that it seemed anything but hard. Two or three little
children were playing about the door and when he came forward to wait on
me one of them sidled forward and put her chubby hand in his.

"Your children?" I asked, by way of reaching some friendly
understanding.

"No," he replied, looking fondly down, "