a perspiring but resolute face.

"Hold on, Cap," he said, coming into the shade of the passage. "I was
thinkin' o' comin' to see you, when I sighted you comin' round the
corner."

"I am glad to see you, Mr. Pennybaker," said Arthur, taking the clumsy
hand which was held out to him.

"Gettin' pretty hot, ain't it?" said Pennybaker, wiping his brow with
his forefinger and dexterously sprinkling the floor with the proceeds
of the action.

"No danger of frost, I think," Arthur assented, admiring the dexterity
of Pennybaker, but congratulating himself that the shake-hands was
disposed of.

"You bet your life. We're going to have it just sizzling from now on."

"Were you wishing to see me about anything in particular?" asked
Farnham, who saw no other way of putting an end to a meteorological
discussion which did not interest him.

"Well, yes," answered Pennybaker, getting around beside Farnham, and
gazing at the wall opposite. "I heerd this mornin' that Minnie Bell was
goin' to get married. My daughter is doing some sewing for her, and it
slipped out that way. She was trying to keep it secret. Some girls is
mighty funny that way. They will do anything to get engaged, and then
they will lie like Sam Hill to make believe they ain't. Well, that
makes a vacancy." He did not turn his head, but he cast a quick glance
sideways at Farnham, who made no answer, and Pennybaker resumed: "So I
thought I would come to you, honor bright, and see if we couldn't agree
what to do. That's me. I'm open and square like a bottle of bitters."

Farnham gave no indication of his surprise at this burst of candor, but
asked:

"What do you propose?"

"That's it," said Pennybaker, promptly. "I don't propose nothing--I
_ex_pose. You hear me--I _ex_pose." He said this with great mystery,
one eye being shut fast and the other only half open. He perceived that
he had puzzled Farnham, and enjoyed it for a moment by repeating his
mot with a chuckle that did not move a muscle of his face. "I'll tell
you the whole thing. There's no use, between gentlemen, of playing the
thing too fine." He took his knife from one pocket and from another a
twist of tobacco, and, cutting off a mouthful, began his story:

"You see, me and Bud Merritt and Joe Dorman have most generally agreed
on paternage, and that was all right. You are well fixed. You don't
want the bother of them little giblets of paternage. We've 'tended to
'em for what there was in 'em and for th