in the right place, but the key wan't
among those present, as they say in the newspapers."

"Where was it?" demanded Barbara.

"Hush, dear," cautioned her mother. "You mustn't ask so many
questions."

"That's all right, ma'am; I don't mind a mite. Where was it?
We-ll, 'twas in my pants pocket here, just where I put it last
time I used it. Naturally enough I shouldn't have thought of
lookin' there and I don't know's I'd have found it yet, but I
happened to shove my hands in my pockets to help me think, and
there 'twas."

This explanation should have been satisfying, doubtless, but
Barbara did not seem to find it wholly so.

"Please may I ask one more question, Mamma?" she pleaded. "Just
only one?"

She asked it before her mother could reply.

"How does putting your hands in your pockets help you think, Mr.
Winslow?" she asked. "I don't see how it would help a bit?"

Jed's eye twinkled, but his reply was solemnly given.

"Why, you see," he drawled, "I'm built a good deal like the old
steam launch Tobias Wixon used to own. Every time Tobias blew the
whistle it used up all the steam and the engine stopped. I've got
a head about like that engine; when I want to use it I have to give
all the rest of me a layoff. . . . Here we are, ma'am. Walk right
in, won't you."

He showed them through room after room of the little house, opening
the closed shutters so that the afternoon sunlight might stream in
and brighten their progress. The rooms were small, but they were
attractive and cosy. The furniture was almost all old mahogany and
in remarkably good condition. The rugs were home-made; even the
coverlets of the beds were of the old-fashioned blue and white,
woven on the hand looms of our great-grandmothers. Mrs. Armstrong
was enthusiastic.

"It is like a miniature museum of antiques," she declared. "And
such wonderful antiques, too. You must have been besieged by
people who wanted to buy them."

Jed nodded. "Ye-es," he admitted, "I cal'late there's been no
less'n a million antiquers here in the last four or five year. I
don't mean here in the house--I never let 'em in the house--but
'round the premises. Got so they kind of swarmed first of every
summer, like June bugs. I got rid of 'em, though, for a spell."

"Did you; how?"

He rubbed his chin. "Put up a sign by the front door that said:
'Beware of Leprosy.' That kept 'em away while it lasted."

Mrs. Armstrong laughed merrily. "I shoul