nd knows, I don't."

"You don't know! Then what's he doin' here?"

"Changin' his duds, I guess. That's what I'd do if I looked as much like
a drowned rat as he did."

"'Lisha Warren! if you ain't the most _provoking'_ thing! Don't be so
unlikely. You know what I mean. What's he come here, to this house,
for?"

"Don't know, Abbie. I didn't know he _was_ comin' here till just as we
got down yonder by Emery's corner. I asked him who he was lookin' for,
he said 'Elisha Warren,' and then the tree caved in on us."

"'Lisha, you--you don't s'pose 'twas a--_sign_, do you?"

"Sign?"

"Yes, a sign, a prophecy-like, a warnin' that somethin' is goin' to
happen."

The captain put back his head and laughed.

"Sign somethin' _had_ happened, I should think," he answered. "What's
_goin'_ to happen is that Pete Shattuck'll get his buggy painted
free-for-nothin', at my expense. How's supper gettin' along? Is it
ready?"

"Ready? It's been ready for so long that it'll have to be got ready
all over again if.... Oh! Come right in, Mr. Graves! I hope you're drier
now."

Captain Warren sprang from the chair to greet his visitor, who was
standing in the doorway.

"Yes, come right in, Mr. Graves," he urged, cordially. "Set down by the
fire and make yourself comf'table. Abbie'll have somethin' for us to eat
in a jiffy. Pull up a chair."

The lawyer came forward hesitatingly. The doubts which had troubled him
ever since he entered the house were still in his mind.

"Thank you, Captain," he said. "But before I accept more of your
hospitality I feel I should be sure there is no mistake. I have come on
important business, and--"

"Hold on!" The captain held up a big hand. "Don't you say another word,"
he commanded. "There's just one business that interests me this minute,
and that's supper. There's no mistake about _that_, anyhow. Did you say
'Come ahead,' Abbie? or was you just going to? Good! Right into the
dinin' room, Mr. Graves."

The dining room was long and low. The woodwork was white, the floor
green painted boards, with braided rag mats scattered over them.
There were old-fashioned pictures on the walls, pictures which brought
shudders to the artistic soul of Atwood Graves. A broad bay window
filled one side of the apartment, and in this window, on shelves and in
wire baskets, were Miss Baker's cherished and carefully tended plants.
As for the dining table, it was dark, old-fashioned walnut, as were the
chairs.

"Set