Mate, bless his
sociable heart. He's a mighty good listener, and has forgot more'n any
MacAllister of them all ever knew, but he isn't much of a
conversationalist. You're young and I'm old, but our souls are about
the same age, I reckon. We both belong to the race that knows Joseph,
as Cornelia Bryant would say."

"The race that knows Joseph?" puzzled Anne.

"Yes. Cornelia divides all the folks in the world into two kinds--the
race that knows Joseph and the race that don't. If a person sorter
sees eye to eye with you, and has pretty much the same ideas about
things, and the same taste in jokes--why, then he belongs to the race
that knows Joseph."

"Oh, I understand," exclaimed Anne, light breaking in upon her.

"It's what I used to call--and still call in quotation marks 'kindred
spirits.'"

"Jest so--jest so," agreed Captain Jim. "We're it, whatever IT is.
When you come in tonight, Mistress Blythe, I says to myself, says I,
'Yes, she's of the race that knows Joseph.' And mighty glad I was, for
if it wasn't so we couldn't have had any real satisfaction in each
other's company. The race that knows Joseph is the salt of the airth,
I reckon."

The moon had just risen when Anne and Gilbert went to the door with
their guests. Four Winds Harbor was beginning to be a thing of dream
and glamour and enchantment--a spellbound haven where no tempest might
ever ravin. The Lombardies down the lane, tall and sombre as the
priestly forms of some mystic band, were tipped with silver.

"Always liked Lombardies," said Captain Jim, waving a long arm at them.
"They're the trees of princesses. They're out of fashion now. Folks
complain that they die at the top and get ragged-looking. So they
do--so they do, if you don't risk your neck every spring climbing up a
light ladder to trim them out. I always did it for Miss Elizabeth, so
her Lombardies never got out-at-elbows. She was especially fond of
them. She liked their dignity and stand-offishness. THEY don't hobnob
with every Tom, Dick and Harry. If it's maples for company, Mistress
Blythe, it's Lombardies for society."

"What a beautiful night," said Mrs. Doctor Dave, as she climbed into
the Doctor's buggy.

"Most nights are beautiful," said Captain Jim. "But I 'low that
moonlight over Four Winds makes me sorter wonder what's left for
heaven. The moon's a great friend of mine, Mistress Blythe. I've
loved her ever since I can remember. When I was a little ch