ch his head.

The King of New York walked briskly on in silence until we were just at
the edge of the grove by the Shore Lane. Then he stopped and turned to
me.

"You own all this land, don't you?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Humph! Get a good view from here."

I admitted that the view was good. At that particular point it embraced
nearly the whole of the bay in front, and a large portion of the village
at the side.

He waved his hand toward the cluster of houses.

"There are eighteen hundred people in this town, they tell me," he said.
"Permanent residents, I mean. What do they all do?"

"Do?"

"Yes. How do they get a living? They must get it somehow. In the regular
summer resorts they squeeze it out of the city people, I know that. But
there aren't so many cottagers and boarders here. What do you all do for
a living?"

I told him that most of masculine Denboro fished or farmed or kept
store.

"Which do you do?" he asked. "You said you weren't a boat-builder."

"I'm not doing anything at present," I replied, shortly.

"Out of a job?"

"You might call it that. Is this a part of the business you wished to
see me about, Mr. Colton?"

I was boiling inwardly and a little of the heat was expressed in my
tone. I don't know whether he took the hint or merely lost interest in
the subject. At any rate his reply was a brief "No," and we continued
our walk.

As we reached the Shore Lane he paused again, and I thought he was about
to speak. He did not, however, and we crossed the boundary line of my
property and entered the Colton grounds. As we drew nearer to the house
I was surprised to see how large it was. When the Atwaters owned it
I was an occasional caller there, for old Major Atwater was fond of
shooting and sometimes borrowed my decoys. But, since it changed hands,
I had not been nearer to it than the Lane. With the new wing and the
other additions it was enormous. It fairly reeked of money, though, so
far as I was a judge, the taste shown in rebuilding and decorating was
good. We turned the corner, where Asa Peters, the head carpenter, came
hurrying up. Asa looked surprised enough to see me in company with his
employer and regarded me wonderingly. "Mr. Colton," he said, "I wanted
to ask you about them skylights." I stepped back out of hearing, but I
inferred from Colton's actions that the question was another one of the
"unnecessary" ones he had so scornfully referred to in the boathouse.

"Jackass!" he ex