ed, Flint's thoughts drifted back to the
portrait in the bed-room overhead. He began his questioning somewhat
warily. "I suppose you've lived in this house for some time?"

"Wall, ever since I wuz born."

"And your father before you?"

"Yes, and my gran'father before him, and hisn fust."

"Ah, I see--an old homestead; and that portrait in my room is the wife
of 'hisn'?"

"Not exactly--we never had no womenfolks in our family ez looked like
that--stronger built is ourn, with more backbone, and none of that
lackadaisical look raound the eyes."

"Pre-cisely," answered Flint. "And how does it happen that this
lackadaisical-eyed portrait has hung so long without getting packed
off to the garret?"

"Wall, you see," began Marsden, slowly and with evident relish,
"thet's quite a story about thet theer."

"Yes?" said Flint, with a rising inflection which invited further
confidence.

"Yes, indeed," answered Marsden, expanding still further and stroking
his chin-whisker as he proceeded. "You see 't wuz this way--Captain
Wagstaff--he wuz the portrait's uncle--wall, he wuz in command of a
fleet that lay in the harbor up yonder, in the Revolutionary War. When
he wuz ashore, he spent most of his time to this haouse; and when his
sister down to Philadelphy died, leavin' this daughter and no one to
take care on her, he brought her on here to live with him. He'd been
brought up a Quaker,--'Friend,' he called it,--though he did fight for
his country, and right enough, sez I. Wall, this girl,--Ruth, her name
wuz,--she came here and stopped awhile; and then there wuz a fight off
the shore between the Captain's ship and a British cruiser. The
cruiser wuz run down and sunk; but one of the officers they picked up
waounded and brought ashore, to this house, and Miss Ruth she set to
work takin' care on him.

"Wall, what with cossettin' of him, and all sorts of philanderin', she
got kinder soft on him, and one day, fust any one knowed, she'd jest
run off with him."

"And what did the Captain say to that?" asked Flint, more interested
than he was wont to be in Marsden's narratives.

"The Captain? Oh, they say he took on about it like thunder, and swore
he'd never forgive her. But Ruth, she sent him her marriage lines, and
wrote him what a good husband she'd got; and after the war wuz over,
she kep' a-beggin' the Captain to come over and live with them. He
wouldn't go; and I don't know ez I blame him any. Europe is so fur
off, and