was sitting in the sunshine upon the front porch.
In August he was able to climb to the buggy seat and be driven up to the
store, where day after day he sat in his armchair behind the
counter, watching what was going on, listening to his partner's happy
chatter--for Shadrach was in high spirits now--and occasionally saying a
word or two himself. On pleasant Sundays he was driven to church and the
Captain and Mary accompanied him. He was white and frail and thin,
but the doctor assured them that, so far as he could see, there was no
reason to expect anything but a complete recovery.

It did seem to Captain Shad, however, that his partner had something
on his mind. He seemed often to be thinking deeply and at times to be
troubled and disturbed. The Captain had never asked, never attempted by
questioning to learn what the cause of the trouble--provided there was
any--might be. He had been told often enough that the patient must not
be excited, so he meant to take no risks, but Zoeth's long silences
and the expression on his face as he sat there in the chair, evidently
thinking deeply, puzzled and worried his friend and partner. He noticed
the same expression at times when Mary was in the room. Zoeth's eyes
would follow her as she moved about and in them was the look the Captain
could not understand.

Shadrach had told his friend of Mary's sending young Smith away. Zoeth
had asked concerning Crawford almost as soon as he was permitted to take
part in a lengthy conversation. He appeared greatly interested, even
eager.

"But, Shadrach," he said, "are you sure she sent him away because she
didn't care for him? Are you sure that was the reason?"

"What other reason could there be?" demanded the Captain. "She as much
as told me that was it, herself. I was some surprised, of course, for
I'd rather cal'lated 'twas as good as settled between 'em, but it turned
out that I didn't know what I was talkin' about. That HAS happened afore
in my life, strange as it may seem," he added dryly.

Zoeth sighed. "I wish--" he said slowly, "I wish I knew--"

"What do you wish you knew?"

"Eh? Oh, nothin'. If--if I was only a little mite stronger I'd try to
talk with Mary-'Gusta myself. I'd like--I'd like to have her tell me
about it."

"Meanin' you don't believe me, eh? There, there, shipmate, it's all
right. I was only jokin'. But I wouldn't ask Mary-'Gusta about that, if
I was you. Course I know she cares as much or more for her Uncle