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"Well you do more than most people, then," said Billy. "The folks 'round here think I'm crazy, I guess, an' Joe Scraff—he's got an English setter dog an' shoots a lot; he told me that if he happened onto my quail an' partridge he'd bag as many of 'em as he could. I told him that if he shot my birds, he'd better watch out fer his white Leghorn chickens but he laughed at me.",

"Have you seen him?" she shouted. "What you think of him, Maurice?",

Billy was feeling frantically in his pockets. "My rabbit foot charm," he groaned. "I fell over a log an' it must'a slipped out'a my pocket.",

The Admiral might have been observed to be calculating by the movement of his lips. "It will be a run, then," said he, "of about forty days."

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Billy put the basket down again. "Say, what did she want with all that hoarhound candy?" he asked curiously.,

It was the evening of the next day. Frank Stanhope lay on a couch in a darkened room, a black bandage across his eyes. Erie Landon sat beside him, holding his hand. The pungent odor of ether hung in the air. Out in the dining room old Doctor Allworth, from Bridgetown, was discussing with the specialist things known only to those men of science.,

The Admiral took the letter, ran his eyes over it, and answered, returning the letter to Captain Acton: "It is.",

He sighed and turned to glance back at the cottage resting in the hardwood grove. It looked very homey, very restful to him, beneath its vines of clustering wild-grape and honeysuckle. It was home—home it must be always. And Mary loved it just as he loved it; this he knew. She was a fine woman, a great helpmate, a wonderful wife and mother. She was fair minded too. She loved Billy quite as much as she loved her own son, Anson. Billy must be more careful, more thoughtful of her comfort. He would have a heart to heart talk with his son, he told himself as he went on to the barn.