looking up at the window," she continued, "and saying things I could
not understand. It sounded as if he was going over his letters, and
every once in awhile he would clasp his hands before him like this, and
cry 'brute.' Oh, it is terrible!"

Mrs. Britt gave a deep sigh of relief, while an amused twinkle shone in
her eyes.

"Sit down, Miss Arabella," she ordered. "There is nothing wrong with
Joshua. He is practising signalling, that's all. Whyn is helping him
from her window. He has to teach the scouts this afternoon, and is
brushing up a little. You see, every time he moves his arms he makes a
letter. The alphabet is divided into groups, and at the end of each
group he stops swinging his arms, and clasps his hands before him
before making the next group. That is what Joshua must have been doing
which frightened you so much."

"Oh, dear me!" and Miss Arabella began to fan herself with an old
newspaper she picked up from off the table. "I never got such a shock
in all my life. I don't know what people are coming to these days when
an old man like your husband will act in such a way. I came over on
purpose to see that girl you have here, and it has nearly cost me my
life."

"Have one of these doughnuts, dear," Mrs. Britt soothed. "I shall get
you some of my home-made wine, which will make you feel better." And
the good woman bustled off to the pantry, from which she shortly
emerged with a well-filled glass.

"That does make me feel better," Miss Arabella remarked, after she had