was supposed to have. What he done was diff'rent. Pesky loafer! Why?"

"That's what I'm going to tell you. Have they appointed his successor
yet? Have you got any one to take his place?"

"No. Fact is, I'd ought to have telegraphed right off to the Board, but
I ain't. I was so glad to see the last of him that I kept puttin' it
off. I'll do it tomorrer."

"Perhaps you won't need to."

"Course I'll need to! Why not? Got to have somebody to help. That's
rules and regulations; and, besides, I can't keep awake day and night,
too. What makes you think I won't need to?"

The young man knocked the ashes from his pipe. Rising, he laid a hand on
his companion's shoulder.

"Because you've got an assistant right here on the premises," he said.
"Delivered by the Atlantic express right at your door. Far be it from
me to toot my horn, Mr. Atkins, or to proclaim my merits from the
housetops. But, speaking as one discerning person to another, when it
comes to an A1, first chop lightkeeper's assistant, I ask: 'What's the
matter with yours truly, John Brown?'"

Seth's reply was not in words. The hand holding his pipe fell limp upon
his lap, and he stared at the speaker. The latter, entirely unabashed,
waved an airy gesture, and continued.

"I repeat," he said, "'What's the matter with John Brown?' And echo