e the job I've got at
present, but I can't afford to sacrifice my friends. I count on you as a
friend, and I want you to come and see _me_. Will you?"

"I don't know, Captain Warren. I must think it over a while, I guess."

"All right--think. But the invitation stands--_my_ invitation. And, if
you want to shift responsibility, shift it on to me. Some day, if it'll
make you feel better, I'll tell Caroline and Stevie the whole story. But
I want them to know you and the world--and me--a little better first.
'Cordin' to my notion, they need education just along that line. They've
got teachers in other branches, but.... There! I've _got_ to be goin'.
There's the dinner bell now."

The string of Japanese gongs, hung in the lower hall, sounded
sonorously. Captain Elisha reached for his coat and hat, but Pearson
caught his arm.

"No, you don't!" he declared. "You're going to stay and have lunch with
me--here. If you say no, I shall believe it is because you are afraid of
a boarding-house meal."

His guest protested, but the protests were overruled, and he and
his host went down to the dining room. The captain whispered as they
entered, "Land sakes, Jim, this takes me back home. It's pretty nigh a
twin to the dinin' room at the Centre House in South Denboro."

* * * * *

All boarding-house dining rooms bear a family likeness, so the comment
was not far wrong. A long table, rows of chairs on each side, ancient
and honorable pictures on the walls, the landlady presiding majestically
over the teapot, the boarders' napkins in rings--all the familiar
landmarks were present.

Most of the male "regulars" were in business about the city and
therefore lunched elsewhere, but the females were in evidence. Pearson
introduced his guest. The captain met Mrs. Hepton, the landlady, plump,
gray-haired, and graciously hospitable. She did not look at all like
a business woman, but appearances are not always to be trusted; Mrs.
Hepton had learned not to trust them--also delinquent boarders, too far.
He met Miss Sherborne, whose coiffure did not match in spots, but whose
voice, so he learned afterward, had been "cultivated abroad." Miss
Sherborne gave music lessons. Mrs. Van Winkle Ruggles also claimed his
attention and held it, principally because of the faded richness of her
apparel. Mrs. Ruggles was a widow, suffering from financial reverses;
the contrast between her present mode of living and the grandeur