And I'm sorry if what I said has made you mad."

Fosdick smiled. "Oh, I'm not mad," he answered cheerfully. "I make it
a rule in all my business dealings not to get mad, or, more especially,
not to let the other fellow know that I'm getting that way. My temper
hasn't a ruffle in it just now, and I am leaving merely because I want
it to remain smooth. I judge that you and I aren't going to agree. All
right, then we'll differ, but we'll differ without a fight, that's all.
Good afternoon, Captain."

But Captain Lote's hand still remained uplifted.

"Mr. Fosdick," he said, "just a minute now--just a minute. You never
have met Albert, my grandson, have you? Never even seen him, maybe?"

"No, but I intend to meet him and talk with him before I leave South
Harniss. He was one of the two people I came here to meet."

"And I was the other, eh? Um-hm. . . . I see. You think you've found out
where I stand and now you'll size him up. Honest, Mr. Fosdick, I . . .
Humph! Mind if I tell you a little story? 'Twon't take long. When I was
a little shaver, me and my granddad, the first Cap'n Lote Snow--there's
been two since--were great chums. When he was home from sea he and I
stuck together like hot pitch and oakum. One day we were sittin' out in
the front yard of his house--it's mine, now--watchin' a hoptoad catch
flies. You've seen a toad catch flies, haven't you, Mr. Fosdick? Mr.
Toad sits there, lookin' half asleep and as pious and demure as a
pickpocket at camp-meetin', until a fly comes along and gets too near.
Then, Zip! out shoots about six inches of toad tongue and that fly's
been asked in to dinner. Well, granddad and I sat lookin' at our
particular toad when along came a bumble-bee and lighted on a
honeysuckle blossom right in front of the critter. The toad didn't take
time to think it over, all he saw was a square meal, and his tongue
flashed out and nailed that bumble-bee and snapped it into the pantry.
In about a half second, though, there was a change. The pantry had been
emptied, the bumble-bee was on his way again, and Mr. Toad was on
his, hoppin' lively and huntin' for--well, for ice water or somethin'
coolin', I guess likely. Granddad tapped me on the shoulder. 'Sonny,'
says he, 'there's a lesson for you. That hoptoad didn't wait to make
sure that bumble-bee was good to eat; he took it for granted, and was
sorry afterward. It don't pay to jump at conclusions, son,' he says.
'Some conclusions are like that bumble-b