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That night the fishermen of Sandtown were caught red-handed, stealing Deacon Ringold's harvest apples. Like hungry ants scenting sugar they descended upon that orchard, en masse, at exactly ten-thirty o'clock. By ten-forty they had done more damage to the hanging fruit than a wind storm could do in an hour and at ten-forty-five they were pounced upon by the angry deacon and his neighbors and given the lecture of their lives. In vain they pleaded that it was all a mistake, that they had been sent an invitation via a small boy, from the deacon himself. "I shall turn off at the bridge," she answered. "It is not long since that I was with your father. I left him in conversation with Captain Acton at Old Harbour House. I believe I heard your name mentioned as I passed away from them." "Well, the Yankee's discipline is taut, though not so taut as ours by the length of a log-line to a lead-line. You therefore understand the necessity of obeying orders?".
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He became conscious that the droning hum of teachers and classes had given place to hushed calm; that all eyes were turned upon him, standing there in the aisle and staring at this picture of absolute perfection. With an effort he drew his eyes away and stumbled forward to his place in elass. "Jerusalem!" Anson's teeth chattered. "Well, I'm goin' down anyway. I don't mind a hidin', but I'm derned if I'm goin' to lay here and get clawed up by no gorilla." "Nary a word but I asked him what he intended to do with the Scroggie hardwoods. He told me that he had sold it to a lumber company. He says there'll be a big camp of cutters and sawyers down here this winter. I said I supposed he'd be goin' back to the States jest as soon as he got things cleared up here, an' you ought to see the queer look he gave me. "American, your honour.".
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