ortion of the discussion.

"Well," she remarked, crisply, "I don't see why we need to sit here
talkin' about engagements or folks' gettin' married. Nobody has shown
any symptoms of wantin' to marry any of _this_ crowd, so far as I can
make out."

While the town was at the very height of its agitation concerning the
Knowles will, there came another earthquake. Egbert Phillips returned.
He alighted from the train at the Bayport depot on the second morning of
Sears's imprisonment in the spare stateroom and before night the
information that he imparted--confidentially, of course--and the hints
he gave concerning his plans for the future, made the Berry legacies and
all the other legacies take second place as gossip kindlers.

Judah came rushing into the house later that afternoon, his arms full of
bundles--purchases at Eliphalet's store--and his mouth full of words. He
dropped everything, eggs, salt fish, tea and shoe laces, on the kitchen
table and tore pell-mell into his lodger's bedroom. Captain Kendrick,
propped up with pillows, was of course stretched out in bed. There was
what appeared to be a letter in his hand, a letter apparently just
received, for a recently opened envelope lay on the comforter beside
him, and upon his face was an expression of bewilderment, surprise and
marked concern. Judah was too intent upon his news to notice anything
else and Sears hastily gathered up letter and envelope and thrust them
beneath the pillow. Then Judah broke loose.

Egbert had come back, had come back to Bayport to live, for good. He had
come on the morning train. Lots of folks saw him; some of them had
talked with him. "And what do you cal'late, Cap'n Sears? You'll never
guess in _this_ world! By the crawlin' prophets, he swears he ain't
rich, the way all hands figured out he was. No, sir, he ain't! 'Cordin'
to his tell he ain't got no money at all, scarcely. All them stocks
and--and bonds and--and securitums and such like have gone on the rocks.
They was unfort'nate infestments, he says. He says he's in straightened
out circumstances, whatever they be, but he's come back here to spend
his declinin' days--that's what Joe Macomber says he called 'em, his
declinin' days--in Bayport, 'cause he loves the old place, 'count of
Lobelia, his wife, lovin' it so, and he can maybe scratch along here on
what income he's got, and--and----"

And so on, for sentence after sentence. Sears heard some of it, but not
all. The letter he had