t in the nation has--
has your name got to do with a deef man and the Doxology?"

"Eh? . . . Oh, nothin'."

"Then what did you bust loose and tell me about 'em for? They
wan't any of MY business, was they?"

"No-o. That's why I spoke of 'em."

"What? You spoke of 'em 'cause they wan't any of my business?"

"Ye-es . . . I thought maybe--" He paused, turned the sailor over
in his hand, whistled a few more bars of the dirge and then
finished his sentence. "I thought maybe you might like to ask
questions about 'em," he concluded.

Mr. Bearse stared suspiciously at his companion, swallowed several
times and, between swallows, started to speak, but each time gave
it up. Mr. Winslow appeared quite oblivious of the stare. His
brushes gave the wooden sailor black hair, eyes and brows, and an
engaging crimson smile. When Gabriel did speak it was not
concerning names.

"Say, Jed," he cried, "HAVE you heard about Cap'n Sam Hunniwell?
'Bout his bein' put on the Exemption Board?"

His companion went on whistling, but he nodded.

"Um-hm," grunted Gabe, grudgingly. "I presumed likely you would
hear; he told you himself, I cal'late. Seth Baker said he see him
come in here night afore last and I suppose that's when he told
you. Didn't say nothin' else, did he?" he added, eagerly.

Again Mr. Winslow nodded.

"Did he? Did he? What else did he say?"

The tall man seemed to consider.

"Well," he drawled, at length, "seems to me I remember him sayin'--
sayin'--"

"Yes? Yes? What did he say?"

"Well--er--seems to me he said good night just afore he went home."

The disappointed Gabriel lost patience. "Oh, you DIVILISH fool
head!" he exclaimed, disgustedly. "Look here, Jed Winslow, talk
sense for a minute, if you can, won't you? I've just heard
somethin' that's goin' to make a big row in this town and it's got
to do with Cap'n Sam's bein' app'inted on that Gov'ment Exemption
Board for drafted folks. If you'd heard Phineas Babbitt goin' on
the way I done, I guess likely you'd have been interested."

It was plain that, for the first time since his caller intruded
upon his privacy, the maker of mills and sailors WAS interested.
He did not put down his brush, but he turned his head to look and
listen. Bearse, pleased with this symptom of attention, went on.

"I was just into Phineas' store," he said, "and he was there, so I
had a chance to talk with him. He's been up to Boston and never
got back till t