, it had become more and more real, until, just
before the end, it was the foundation upon which his future was to
rest. And down it came, and there was his future buried in the
ruins.

And it had been all moonshine from the very first. Jed, sitting
there alone in his little living-room, could see now that it had
been nothing but that. Ruth Armstrong, young, charming, cultured--
could she have thought of linking her life with that of Jedidah
Edgar Wilfred Winslow, forty-five, "town crank" and builder of
windmills? Of course not--and again of course not. Obviously she
never had thought of such a thing. She had been grateful, that was
all; perhaps she had pitied him just a little and behind her
expressions of kindliness and friendship was pity and little else.
Moonshine--moonshine--moonshine. And, oh, what a fool he had been!
What a poor, silly fool!

So the night passed and morning came and with it a certain degree
of bitterly philosophic acceptance of the situation. He WAS a
fool; so much was sure. He was of no use in the world, he never
had been. People laughed at him and he deserved to be laughed at.
He rose from the bed upon which he had thrown himself some time
during the early morning hours and, after eating a cold mouthful or
two in lieu of breakfast, sat down at his turning lathe. He could
make children's whirligigs, that was the measure of his capacity.

All the forenoon the lathe hummed. Several times steps sounded on
the front walk and the latch of the shop door rattled, but Jed did
not rise from his seat. He had not unlocked that door, he did not
mean to for the present. He did not want to wait on customers; he
did not want to see callers; he did not want to talk or be talked
to. He did not want to think, either, but that he could not help.

And he could not shut out all the callers. One, who came a little
after noon, refused to remain shut out. She pounded the door and
shouted "Uncle Jed" for some few minutes; then, just as Jed had
begun to think she had given up and gone away, he heard a thumping
upon the window pane and, looking up, saw her laughing and nodding
outside.

"I see you, Uncle Jed," she called. "Let me in, please."

So Jed was obliged to let her in and she entered with a skip and a
jump, quite unconscious that her "back-step-uncle" was in any way
different, either in feelings or desire for her society, than he
had been for months.

"Why did you have the door locked,