on't
freeze in April, seems to me."

"Aw, be still! Don't talk no more about it. By fire!" with a sudden
change of subject and a burst of enthusiasm, "look at that horse, will
you! Turned right in at the gate without my pullin' the helm once or
sayin' a word--knows as much as a Christian, that horse does."

The buggy had rocked and plowed its way over the hummocks and through
the sand of the narrow lane and was at the top of a grass-covered
knoll, a little hill. At the foot of the hill was the beach, strewn
with seaweed, and beyond, the Sound, its waters now a rosy purple in
the sunset light. On the slope of the hill toward the beach stood a low,
rambling, white house, a barn, and several sheds and outbuildings. There
were lilac bushes by the front door of the house, a clam-shell walk from
the lane to that door, and, surrounding the whole, a whitewashed picket
fence. A sandy rutted driveway led from the rear of the house and the
entrance of the barn down to a big gate, now wide open. It was through
this gateway and along this drive that the sagacious Major was pulling
the buggy.

Mary-'Gusta stared at the house. As she stared the back door was thrown
open and a tall, thin man came out. He was in his shirtsleeves, his arms
were bare to the elbow, and to Mary-'Gusta's astonishment he wore an
apron, a gingham apron similar to those worn by Mrs. Hobbs when at work
in the kitchen.

"Ahoy, there, Isaiah!" hailed the Captain. "Here we are."

The man with the apron took a big nickel watch from the upper pocket
of his vest, looked at it, and shook his head. Upon his face, which was
long and thin like the rest of him, there was a grieved expression.

"A little mite late, ain't we, Isaiah?" said Zoeth, hastily. "Hope we
ain't kept supper waitin' too long?"

The tall man returned the watch to the pocket.

"Only twenty-three minutes, that's all," he drawled, with the
resignation of a martyr. "Twenty-three minutes ain't much in a lifetime,
maybe--but it don't help fried potatoes none. Them potatoes was ready at
half-past five."

"Well, 'tain't six yet," protested Captain Shad.

"Maybe 'tain't, but it's twenty-three minutes later'n half-past five.
Last thing you said to me was, 'Have supper ready at half-past five!' I
had it ready. Them potatoes went on the fire at--"

"There! there!" interrupted the Captain. "Never mind the potatoes. We'll
'tend to them in a minute. Give us a hand with this dunnage. There's
a satchel he