ation while the three of them sat at
breakfast Sunday morning.

The minister absent-mindedly asked concerning the condition of Miss
Splinter.

"She 'peared to be a trifle easier this morning. But what's ailing the
both of you? Look as if you'd been setting up all night like two owls."

"Cal'late we're on our uppers, Clemmie. But we'll be fit as fiddles when
we get some of them cakes stowed amidships, and ballast 'em down with a
few swallers of that coffee. There ain't everybody that can b'ile coffee
like you, Clemmie."

"Don't be foolish, Josiah."

After a very light breakfast, Mr. McGowan excused himself from the
table, saying he must do some work on his sermon before the church hour.
As the door to the study closed the Captain pushed back his plate and
chair. He slid the latter round the end of the table, and placed it by
Miss Pipkin.

"For the lan' sakes, Josiah! You ain't going to make love to me this
morning, be you?"

"I ain't sartin, Clemmie. It depends on your partic'lar frame of mind,"
he replied slowly, a quiet kindness in his old eyes.

"I don't know as I feel like being made love-sick," she said, but
without the old spirit of stubbornness.

"All right, Clemmie," he said resignedly. "I cal'late you know best. I'm
going to spin you a yarn about what took place round these premises last
night. That is, if you're willing to listen."

"Why, of course I'm willing to listen. Did that lawyer show up here
again with his old mortgage?"

"No, you bet he didn't. And what's more, he won't come prowling round
again, either."

The Captain told his housekeeper the whole story. He passed as lightly
as he could over the part where Adoniah had married the trader's
daughter. Miss Pipkin gave no sign that she cared in the least, or that
the news had shocked her. But when the Captain rehearsed the treachery
of Mr. James Fox, she grew rigid. She dabbed her apron into the corners
of her eyes as he unfolded the story of the suffering of the little
family. The old man paused to wipe the tears from his own eyes as he
recounted the finding of the lad in the doorway with a pile of morning
papers in his lap. For some time after he had finished neither spoke.
The Captain dangled his bandanna at the end of his nose, and Miss Pipkin
dabbed her checked apron against her wet cheeks.

"Josiah," she whispered eagerly, "have you found the boy yet? Is he
still alive?"

"Yes." A prolonged blow followed.

She laid her hand in h