ble."

"Sho!" drawled 'Zekiel. "Might's well talk about protecting a
battleship."

"Well, 'Zekiel Forbes," returned his mother, her eyes bright, "can't you
imagine a battleship hesitating to run down a little pleasure yacht with
all its flags flying? And can't you imagine that hesitation costing the
battleship considerable precious time and money? You've said a good deal
about my sacrificing my room in the house and coming out here to fix a
little home for us both, upstairs in the barn chambers, but perhaps you
can see now that it isn't all sacrifice, that perhaps I'm glad of an
excuse to get out of the house, where things are so different from what
they used to be, and to have a cosy home with my own boy. Now then,
'Zekiel," coaxingly, these words recalling her boy's responsibilities,
"look over there once more and tell me which of those is the spider."

Zekiel dropped the harness and laid his hand gently on his mother's
forehead. "There isn't anything there, dear mother," he said soothingly.

"Zeke!" she exclaimed, jerking away with a short reluctant laugh.

"'Mother, dear mother, come home with me now,'" he roared
sentimentally, so that Essex Maid lifted her beautiful head and looked
out in surprise. "Remember Fanshaw, and put more water in it after
this," he added, dropping his arm to his mother's neck and capturing her
with a hug.

"'Zekiel!" she protested. "'Zekiel!"

CHAPTER II

THE CHICAGO LETTER

The mother was still laughing and struggling in the irresistible
embrace when both became aware that a third person was regarding them in
open-mouthed astonishment.

"'Zekiel, let me _go_!" commanded the scandalized woman, and pushed
herself free from her tormentor, who forthwith returned rather
sheepishly to his buckles.

The young man with trim-pointed beard and mirthful eyes, who stood
in the driveway, had just dismounted from a shining buggy. Doubt and
astonishment were apparently holding him dumb.

The housekeeper, smoothing her disarranged locks and much flushed of
face, returned his gaze, rising from her chair.

"I couldn't believe it was you, Mrs. Forbes!" declared the newcomer.
"Fanshaw isn't--" He looked around vaguely.

"No, he isn't, Dr. Ballard," returned Mrs. Forbes shortly. "He forgot to
rub down Essex Maid one evening when she came in hot, and that finished
him with Mr. Evringham."

The young doctor's lips twitched beneath his mustache as he looked at
'Zekiel, polishing away for