looked so long. It was a portrait
of great beauty. He propped himself on his elbows to study it more
closely.

"It looks like a Copley," he said to himself, "or perhaps a Gilbert
Stuart. How the devil could such a picture get here, and how could I
have failed to see it last year? I must have it--of course I must! It
is absurd that it should be wasted here! I wonder if Marsden knows
anything of its value?"

Here Flint fell back upon his pillow and found, to his disgust, that
his metaphysical conscience was already at work on the problem of the
equity of a bargain in which the seller is ignorant of facts known to
the buyer, and whether the buyer is in honor bound not to take
advantage of his professional training.

The picture which had given rise to this long and complicated train of
thought was the portrait of a young woman in Quaker dress, her hair
rolled back above a low and subtle brow, her lace kerchief demurely
folded over a white neck. Her head was bent a little to one side, and
rested upon her hand. At her breast sparkled a ruby,--a spot of rich,
luminous flame.

"That is odd," thought Flint. "I fancied Quakers never wore
jewels--conscientiously opposed to them, and all that sort of thing.
Perhaps this damsel was a renegade from the faith, or perhaps this was
some heirloom,--a protest against the colorless limitations of the
creed. Queer thing the human soul. Can't be formulated, not even to
ourselves. Sometimes I've seen people show more of their real selves
to utter strangers at odd moments than their nearest and dearest get
at in a life-time."

This disjointed philosophy beguiled so much time, that Flint was late
to breakfast. His fellow-boarders, a pedler and a fisherman, had gone
about their business, and he sat down alone at the oilcloth-covered
table, and twirled the pewter caster while he waited for his egg to be
boiled. It was one of his beliefs that a merciful Heaven had granted
eggs and oranges to earth for the benefit of fastidious travellers who
could wreak their appetites in comparative security, especially if
they did their own cracking and peeling. At length the breakfast
appeared, and with it the innkeeper, who sat down opposite Flint.

He had many weighty questions to put.

Should oakum or putty be used in the seams of "The Aquidneck"?

Should he pack the dinner-basket with beef or ham sandwiches?

Would Flint take lines for fishing, or a net for crabbing?

When all these were settl