homeward bound with a "full bin fare." He stamped up Abner Crowell's
walk, and slammed the kitchen door.

Abner was weeding onions. He stared after the captain curiously.
"Looks like squally weather," he commented. "I wonder what's sent
Enoch on his beam ends like that."

As Abner bent with a grunt to his task, his wife came hurrying
toward him, her apron strings flying like distress signals.

"Abner," she demanded excitedly, "did you ever hear of Captain
Enoch's havin' fits?"

"No, I dunno's I ever did," replied Abner, twitching up an
enterprising wild mustard.

"Well, he's havin' one now," insisted Mrs. Crowell. "He come trampin'
in an' says, 'Git right out o' my way, Mis' Crowell,' an' now he's a
pacin' up an' down his room like a caged hyeny. You leave them
onions, an' go an see what under the canopy ails him. I'll stand at
the foot of the stairs ready to run for help, if he should be
dangerous."

Abner groaned. Reluctantly he brushed the dirt from his knees, and
went into the house. Captain Enoch's heavy steps jarred the floor of
his little room. Three times Abner knocked. Growing wrathful at
being ignored, he applied his lips to the key-hole.

"Hey, there," he bellowed. "You gone clean crazy, Enoch? It's only
me--Abner--open the door!"