ly he was.

Miss Martha asked if he was sure.

"You needn't go on our account," she protested. "We can talk in the
dinin' room just as well as not, can't we Cap'n Jeth?"

The captain bowed his head. "We ain't cal'latin' to talk very long
anyhow," he said, solemnly. "This is the Lord's day, Mr. Bangs."

Galusha hastily admitted that he was aware of the fact. He hurried into
the hall and up the stairs. As he reached the upper landing he heard the
ponderous boom of the light keeper's voice saying, "Martha, I tell you
again there's no use frettin' yourself. We've to wait on the Lord. Then
that wait will be provided for; it's been so revealed to me."

Miss Phipps sighed heavily. "Maybe so, Jethro," she said, "but what will
some of us live on while we're waitin'? THAT hasn't been revealed to
you, has it?"

For the rest of that afternoon Galusha sat by his bedroom window,
thinking. His thoughts were along the line of those interrupted by
Primmie's summons. When, at supper time, he again descended the stairs,
his mind was made up. He was going to make a suggestion, a suggestion
which seemed to him somewhat delicate. In one sense of the term it was
a business proposition, in another--well, he was not precisely certain
that it might not be considered presuming and perhaps intrusive. Galusha
Cabot Bangs was not a presuming person and he was troubled.

After the supper dishes were washed and Primmie sent to bed--"sent"
is the exact word, for Miss Cash, having had a taste of Egypt and
the Orient, was eagerly hoping for more--Miss Phipps and Galusha were
together in the sitting room. Doctor Powers had paid a brief visit. He
found his patient so much improved that he announced him well enough to
travel if he wished.

"If it is really necessary for you to go to-morrow, Mr. Bangs," he said,
"I think you're strong enough to risk it."

"Thank you, Doctor," said Galusha. Then he added, with his little smile,
"I couldn't go before to-morrow. You see, I--ah--haven't any hat."

In the sitting room, after supper, Galusha was idly turning the pages
of Camp, Battlefield and Hospital, a worn book of Civil War sketches,
printed immediately after that war, which he had found upon the shelf of
the closet in his room, along with another volume labeled Friendship's
Garland, a Nosegay of Verse. Of the two, although a peace-loving
individual, he preferred the camp and battlefield to the Nosegay; the
latter's fragrance was a trifle too sweet.