rning singing at the top of his lungs; of washing face and hands
in a tin basin on a bench by that well curb instead of within
doors. There were some necessary concessions to convention to
which his attention was called by Captain Hunniwell, who took it
upon himself to act as a sort of social mentor.

"Do you always wash outdoors there?" asked the captain, after
watching one set of ablutions.

"Why--er--yes, I 'most generally do in good weather. It's sort of--
er--well, sort of cool and roomy, as you might say."

"Roomy, eh? Gracious king! Well, I should say you needed room.
You splash into that basin like a kedge anchor goin' overboard and
when you come out of it you puff like a grampus comin' up to blow.
How do you cal'late Mrs. Armstrong enjoys seein' you do that?"

Jed looked startled and much disturbed. "Eh?" he exclaimed. "Why,
I never thought about her, Sam. I declare I never did. I--I'll
fetch the wash basin inside this very minute."

And he did. The inconvenience attached to the breaking off of a
summer-time habit of years troubled him not half as much as the
fear that he might have offended a fellow creature's sensibilities.
Jed Winslow was far too sensitive himself and his own feelings had
been hurt too many times to make hurting those of another a small
offense in his eyes.

But these were minor inconveniences attached to his new position as
landlord. There were recompenses. At work in his shop he could
see through the window the white-clad, graceful figure of Mrs.
Armstrong moving about the yard, sitting with Barbara on the bench
by the edge of the bluff, or writing a letter at a table she had
taken out under the shadow of the silver-leaf tree. Gradually Jed
came to enjoy seeing her there, to see the windows of the old house
open, to hear voices once more on that side of the shop, and to
catch glimpses of Babbie dancing in and out over the shining mica
slab at the door.

He liked the child when he first met her, but he had been a little
fearful that, as a neighbor, she might trouble him by running in
and out of the shop, interfering with his privacy and his work or
making a small nuisance of herself when he was waiting on
customers. But she did none of these things, in fact she did not
come into the shop at all and, after the first week had passed, he
began to wonder why. Late that afternoon, seeing her sitting on
the bench by the bluff edge, her doll in her arms, he came out of
the