d between them was not easily disturbed. "Well, now, I'm
jes' comin' to it right spang off. Well, ye see, I been over to
Millville this mornin' in the boat, accordin' to custom, when the water
ain't too rough, an' bein' off extry early, too, for I'd more 'n common
to market for,--Mis' Douglas she told me to bring her cowcumbers for
picklin'; an' Mis' Stewart she wanted some chany dishes an' some
glasses outer the crockery store,--an' that's considerable way from the
dock, you know; an' Mis' Yorke she gimme some bit of flannen she wanted
matched,--an' such like arrands takes time. So I says, says I, I'll
jes' run over to the station an' see what's doin' there, more by token,
as it was near time for the express, an' it kind of livens ye up a bit
to see them express-trains come in,--they're nice an' bustlin' like,
with a sort of go in 'em; an' after she come in, there was a
freight-train come, an' there was lots of freight put off, an'--guess
what I see, Jim, among it."

"Peanuts, I suppose," answered Jim, "an' I guess I'll get at the whole
story jest as quick by guessing it out myself, as by waitin' for you,
Cap."

The captain gave Jim a friendly nod, still no whit disturbed by the
freedom of his criticisms, and rambled on again,--

"Yes, peanuts, bags of 'em, half a dozen or more, I reckon, though I
didn't take the trouble to count 'em; an' the way I foun' out--how do
ye s'pose I knew what was in them bags?"

"Smelled 'em," said Jim; "Sampled 'em," said Bill, in a breath.

"How was I to sample 'em when they was--I mean, if they was fastened up
in the bags?" continued the captain; "nor it wasn't no smell, either.
There ain't much smell outer peanuts 'thout they're cookin'. Mis'
Yorke, she's a master hand to roast peanuts, does 'em jes' to a turn,
an' then ye can smell 'em clear down to the beach, an' fustrate it is,
too. I'd rather smell 'em than all the fine parfumery things they puts
up in bottles."

"What about the peanuts?" urged Jim. "Then how _did_ you know, an' what
did you do? Hurry up."

"There was a feller--one of the freight-hands--a pitchin' of the things
outer the cars; an' one of them bags hit against a barrow stood there,
an' got cut right through, the bag did,--an' what do you s'pose come a
pourin' outer that bag, Jim?"

"Think I can guess that riddle. Peanuts," answered Jim.

"Yes, peanuts," said the captain; "an' it was a lucky thing for Sam
Bates, to who they was consigned, that there wasn't