lking about?
Trapping what?"

"I don't know. _I'm_ not layin' traps to catch anything--or any_body_
either."

She sailed out of the room. Miss Berry turned to Sears.

"Do you know what she means, Cap'n Kendrick?" she asked.

Sears did know, or would have bet heavily on his guess. But he shook his
head. Elizabeth was not satisfied.

"Why do you look like that?" she persisted. "_Do_ you know?"

"Eh?... Oh, no, no; of course not.... I--I think I saw your mother goin'
out of the gate as I came across lots. She--I presume likely she was
goin' to the store or somewhere."

"She didn't tell me she was going. Was she alone?"

"Why--why, no; I think--seems to me Mr. Phillips was with her."

For the next few minutes the captain devoted his entire attention to the
letter he was writing. He did not look up, but he was quite conscious
that her eyes were boring him through and through. During the rest of
his stay she was curt and cool. When he went she did not bid him
good-by.

So the fuse was burning merrily and the inevitable explosion came three
days later. The scene was this time not the Fair Harbor office, but the
Minot kitchen. Judah was out and the captain was alone, reading the
_Item_. The fire in the range was a new one and the kitchen was very
warm, so Sears had opened the outer door in order to cool off a bit. It
was a beautiful late October forenoon.

The captain was deep in the _Item's_ account of the recent wreck on
Peaked Hill Bars. A British bark had gone ashore there and the crew had
been rescued with difficulty. He was himself dragged, metaphorically
speaking, from the undertow by a voice just behind him.

"Well, you're takin' it easy, ain't you, Cap'n Sears?" observed Mrs.
Tidditt. "I wish _I_ didn't have nothin' to do but set and read the
news."

"Oh, good mornin', Esther," said the captain. He was not particularly
glad to see her. "What's wrong; anything?"

"Nothin' but my batch of gingerbread, and a quart of molasses'll save
that. Can you spare it? Oh, don't get up. I know where Judah keeps it;
I've been here afore."

She went to the closet, found the molasses jug, and filled her pitcher.
Then she came back and sat down. She had not been invited to sit, but
Esther scorned ceremony.

"No, sir," she observed, as if carrying on an uninterrupted
conversation, "_I_ can't set and read the newspapers. And I can't go to
walk neither, even if 'tis such weather as 'tis to-day. Some folks can,
though,