rouble to affirm or deny the
rumors. Peace and quiet dominated the Whittaker house for the first time
in three weeks and its owner was happier. He cooked his own food and
washed his own dishes. The runaway cat ventured to return, found other
viands than beans in its saucer, and decided to remain, purring thankful
contentment. The captain made his own bed, after a fashion, when he was
ready to occupy it, but he was conscious that it might be better made.
He refused, however, to spend his time in sweeping and dusting, and
the dust continued to accumulate on the carpets and furniture. This
condition of affairs troubled him, but he kept his own counsel. Asaph
and Bailey called often, but they offered no more suggestions as to
hiring a housekeeper. Mr. Tidditt might have done so, but the captain
gave him no encouragement. Mr. Bangs, recent humiliation fresh in his
mind, would as soon have suggested setting the house on fire.

One evening Asaph happened in, on his way to Simmons's. He desired
the captain to accompany him to that gathering place of the wise and
talkative. Captain Cy was in the sitting room, a sheet of note paper in
his hand. The town clerk entered without ceremony and tossed his hat on
the sofa.

"Evenin', Ase," observed the captain, folding the sheet of paper and
putting it into his pocket. "Glad you come. Sit down. I wanted to ask
you somethin'."

"All right! Here I be. Heave ahead and ask."

Captain Cy puffed at his pipe. He seemed about to speak and then to
think better of it, for he crossed his legs and smoked on in silence,
gazing at the nickel work of the "base-burner" stove. It was badly in
need of polishing.

"Well?" inquired Asaph, with impatient sarcasm. "Thinkin' of askin' me
to build a fire for you, was you? Nobody else but you would have set up
a stove in summer time, anyhow."

"Hey? No, you needn't start a fire yet awhile. That necktie of yours 'll
keep us warm till fall, I shouldn't wonder. New one, ain't it? Where'd
you get it?"

Mr. Tidditt was wearing a crocheted scarf of a brilliant crimson hue,
particularly becoming to his complexion. The complexion now brightened
until it was almost a match for the tie.

"Oh!" he said, with elaborate indifference. "That? Yes, it's new.
Yesterday was my birthday, and Matildy Tripp she knew I needed a
necktie, so she give me this one."

"Oh! One she knit purpose for you, then? Dear me! Look out, Ase. Widow
women are dangerous, they say; presents