put the matter
entirely out of his mind and centered all his energies upon the new
variety of mill, the gull which was to flap its wings when the wind
blew. Barbara was, of course, much interested in the working out
of this invention, and her questions were many. Occasionally Mrs.
Armstrong came into the shop. She and Jed became better acquainted.

The acquaintanceship developed. Jed formed a daily habit of
stopping at the Armstrong door to ask if there were any errands to
be done downtown. "Goin' right along down on my own account,
ma'am," was his invariable excuse. "Might just as well run your
errands at the same time." Also, whenever he chopped a supply of
kindling wood for his own use he chopped as much more and filled
the oilcloth-covered box which stood by the stove in the Armstrong
kitchen. He would not come in and sit down, however, in spite of
Barbara's and her mother's urgent invitation; he was always too
"busy" for that.

But the time came when he did come in, actually come in and sit
down to a meal. Barbara, of course, was partially responsible for
this amazing invitation, but it was Heman Taylor's old brindle
tomcat which really brought it to pass. The cat in question was a
disreputable old scalawag, with tattered ears and a scarred hide,
souvenirs of fights innumerable, with no beauty and less morals,
and named, with appropriate fitness, "Cherub."

It was a quarter to twelve on a Sunday morning and Jed was
preparing his dinner. The piece de resistance of the dinner was,
in this instance, to be a mackerel. Jed had bought the mackerel of
the fish peddler the previous afternoon and it had been reposing on
a plate in the little ancient ice-chest which stood by the back
door of the Winslow kitchen. Barbara, just back from Sunday school
and arrayed in her best, saw that back door open and decided to
call. Jed, as always, was glad to see her.

"You're getting dinner, aren't you, Mr. Winslow?" she observed.

Jed looked at her over his spectacles. "Yes," he answered.
"Unless somethin' happens I'm gettin' dinner."

His visitor looked puzzled.

"Why, whatever happened you would be getting dinner just the same,
wouldn't you?" she said. "You might not have it, but you'd be
getting it, you know."

Jed took the mackerel out of the ice-chest and put the plate
containing it on the top of the latter. "We-ell," he drawled, "you
can't always tell. I might take so long gettin' it that, first
thin