ory every forni't. I used to jaw his head off, tellin' him he was on
the road to starvation and all that. Tut, tut, tut! Mother, I've waited
a long time to say it, but it looks as if you married a fool.' . . .
That's the way he talked, but he's a long ways from bein' a fool, your
grandfather is, Albert."

Albert nodded. "No one knows that better than I," he said, with
emphasis.

"There's one thing," she went on, "that kind of troubled me. He said
you was goin' to insist on payin' board here at home. Now you know this
house is yours. And we love to--"

He put his arm about her. "I know it, Grandmother," he broke in,
quickly. "But that is all settled. I am going to try to make my own
living in my own way. I am going to write and see what I am really
worth. I have my royalty money, you know, most of it, and I have this
order for the series of stories. I can afford to pay for my keep and
I shall. You see, as I told Grandfather last night, I don't propose to
live on his charity any more than on Mr. Fosdick's."

She sighed.

"So Zelotes said," she admitted. "He told me no less than three times
that you said it. It seemed to tickle him most to death, for some
reason, and that's queer, too, for he's anything but stingy. But there,
I suppose you can pay board if you want to, though who you'll pay it to
is another thing. _I_ shan't take a cent from the only grandson I've got
in the world."

It was while on his stroll down to the village that Albert met Mr.
Kendall. The reverend gentleman was plodding along carrying a market
basket from the end of which, beneath a fragment of newspaper, the tail
and rear third of a huge codfish drooped. The basket and its contents
must have weighed at least twelve pounds and the old minister was, as
Captain Zelotes would have said, making heavy weather of it. Albert went
to his assistance.

"How do you do, Mr. Kendall," he said; "I'm afraid that basket is rather
heavy, isn't it. Mayn't I help you with it?" Then, seeing that the old
gentleman did not recognize him, he added, "I am Albert Speranza."

Down went the basket and the codfish and Mr. Kendall seized him by both
hands.

"Why, of course, of course," he cried. "Of course, of course. It's our
young hero, isn't it. Our poet, our happy warrior. Yes,--yes, of course.
So glad to see you, Albert. . . . Er . . . er . . . How is your mother?"

"You mean my grandmother? She is very well, thank you."

"Yes--er--yes, your grandmother, of c