in the diggin's. So long."

Bos'n and the captain sat down to the dinner at noon alone. Mr. Smith
had not returned from his trip to the barber's. He came in, however,
just before the meal was over, still in an unshorn condition, somewhat
flushed and very loquacious.

"Say!" he exclaimed genially. "That Simpson's the right sort, ain't he?
Him and me took a shine to each other from the go-off. He's been West
himself and he's got some width to him. He's no psalm singer."

"Humph!" commented the captain, with delicate sarcasm. "He don't seem
to be much of a barber, either. What's the matter? Gone out of business,
has he? Or was you so wild or woolly he got discouraged before he
begun?"

"Great snakes!" exclaimed the visitor. "I forgot all about the clippers!
Well, that's one on me, pard! I'll make a new try soon's grub's over.
Don't be so tight-fisted with the steak; this is a plate I'm passin',
not a contribution box."

He winked at Bos'n and would have chucked her under the chin if she had
not dodged. She seemed to have taken a great aversion to Mr. Smith and
was plainly afraid of him.

"Is he going to stay very long, Uncle Cyrus?" she whispered, when it was
school time once more. "Do you think he's nice?"

Captain Cy did not answer. When she had gone and the guest had risen
from the table and put on his hat, the captain said warningly:

"There's one little bit of advice I want to give you, Mister Man: A
bargain's a bargain, but it takes two to keep it. Don't let your love
for Tad Simpson lead you into talkin' too much. Talk's cheap, they say,
but too much of it might be mighty dear for you. Understand?"

Smith patted him on the back. "Lord love you, pard!" he chuckled, "I'm
no spring chicken. I'm as hard to open as a safe, I am. It takes a can
opener to get anything out of me."

"Yes; well, you can get inside some folks easier with a corkscrew. I've
been told that Tad's a kind of a medium sometimes. If he raises any
spirits in that back room of his, I'd leave 'em alone, if I was you. So
long as you're decent, I'll put up with--"

But Mr. Smith was on his way to the gate, whistling as if he hadn't a
care in the world. Captain Cy watched him go down the road, and then,
with the drawn, weary look on his face which had been there since the
day before, he entered the sitting room and threw himself into a chair.

Miss Phoebe Dawes, the school teacher, worked late that evening. There
were examination papers to be