s is Helen
Kendall, she's our Orthodox minister's daughter. Helen, this young
feller is Albert--er--er--Consarn it, I've asked Cap'n Lote that name a
dozen times if I have once! What is it, anyway?"

"Speranza," replied the owner of the name.

"That's it, Sperandy. This is Albert Sperandy, Cap'n Lote's grandson."

Albert and Miss Kendall shook hands.

"Thanks," said the former, gratefully and significantly.

The young lady smiled.

"Oh, you're welcome," she said. "I knew who you were all the time--or I
guessed who you must be. Cap'n Snow told me you were coming."

She went out. Issachar, staring after her, chuckled admiringly.
"Smartest girl in THIS town," he observed, with emphasis. "Head of her
class up to high school and only sixteen and three-quarters at that."

Captain Zelotes came bustling in a few minutes later. He went to his
desk, paying little attention to his grandson. The latter loitered idly
up and down the office and hardware shop, watching Issachar wait on
customers or rush shouting into the yard to attend to the wants of
others there. Plainly this was Issachar's busy day.

"Crimus!" he exclaimed, returning from one such excursion and mopping
his forehead. "This doin' two men's work ain't no fun. Every time Labe
goes on a time seem's if trade was brisker'n it's been for a month.
Seems as if all creation and part of East Harniss had been hangin' back
waitin' till he had a shade on 'fore they come to trade. Makes a feller
feel like votin' the Prohibition ticket. I WOULD vote it, by crimustee,
if I thought 'twould do any good. 'Twouldn't though; Labe would take
to drinkin' bay rum or Florida water or somethin', same as Hoppy Rogers
done when he was alive. Jim Young says he went into Hoppy's barber-shop
once and there was Hoppy with a bottle of a new kind of hair-tonic in
his hand. 'Drummer that was here left it for a sample,' says Hoppy.
'Wanted me to try it and, if I liked it, he cal'lated maybe I'd buy
some. I don't think I shall, though,' he says; 'don't taste right to
me.' Yes, sir, Jim Young swears that's true. Wan't enough snake-killer
in that hair tonic to suit Hoppy. I--Yes, Cap'n Lote, what is it? Want
me, do ye?"

But the captain did not, as it happened, want Mr. Price at that time.
It was Albert whose name he had called. The boy went into the office and
his grandfather rose and shut the door.

"Sit down, Al," he said, motioning toward a chair. When his grandson had
seated himself Capt