"Nonsense!" Bob protested heartily. "Don't you and Aunt Tiny give
yourselves any uneasiness about me. I'm happy. I enjoy fussing round
the shop with you, Mr. Spence. I'd far rather you took me into what
you're doing than left me out. Besides, I don't intend to work every
minute while I'm here. Some fine day I mean to steal off by myself and
explore Wilton. I may even take a day's fishing."

"That's right, youngster, that's right!" ejaculated Willie. "That's
the proper spirit. If you'll just feel free to pull out when you
please it will take a load off my mind, an' I shall turn to tinkerin'
with a clear conscience."

"I will, I promise you."

"Then that's settled," sighed the inventor with relief. "I must say
you're about the best feller ever was to come a-visitin', Bob. You
ain't a mite of trouble to anybody."

With eyes still fastened on the bench with its chaos of tools, the old
man moved unwillingly toward the door; but on the threshold he paused.

"I'll be back quick's I can," he called. "Likely I'll bring Jan in
tow. I'd full as lief not tell him what we're doin' 'til next week if
I had my choice; still, things bein' as they are, mebbe it's as well
not to shut him out any longer. He gets miffed easy an' I wouldn't
have his feelin's hurt fur a pot of lobsters."

With a gentle smile he waved his hand and was gone.

Left alone in the long, low-studded room, Bob rolled up his sleeves and
to a brisk whistle began to plane down some pieces of thin board.

The bench at which he worked stood opposite a broad window from which,
framed in a wreath of grapevine, he could see the bay and the shelving
dunes beyond it. A catboat, with sails close-hauled, was making her
way out of the channel, a wake of snowy foam churning behind her in the
blue water. Through the door of the shed swept a breeze that rustled
the shavings on the floor and blended the fragrance of newly cut wood
with the warm perfume of sweet fern from the adjoining meadow.

For all its untidiness and confusion, its litter of boards, tools and
battered paint pots, the shop was unquestionably one of the most homey
corners of the Spence cottage. Its rough, unsheathed walls, mellowed
to a dull buff tone, were here and there adorned with prints culled by
Willie from magazines and newspapers. Likenesses of Lincoln and
Roosevelt flanked the windows with an American flag above them, and a
series of battleships and army scenes beneath. The inven