er--that is, I just run in to see Shavin's here; to make a little
call, you know. We was just settin' here talkin', wan't we,
Shavin's--Jed, I mean?"

Mr. Winslow stood his completed sailor man in a rack to dry.

"Ya-as," he drawled, solemnly, "that was about it, I guess. Have a
chair, Sam, won't you? . . . That was about it, we was sittin' and
talkin' . . . I was sittin' and Gab--Gabe, I mean--was talkin'."

Captain Sam chuckled. As Winslow and Mr. Bearse were occupying the
only two chairs in the room he accepted the invitation in its broad
sense and, turning an empty box upon end, sat down on that.

"So Gabe was talkin', eh?" he repeated. "Well, that's singular.
How'd that happen, Gabe?"

Mr. Bearse looked rather foolish. "Oh, we was just--just talkin'
about--er--this and that," he said, hastily. "Just this and that,
nothin' partic'lar. Cal'late I'll have to be runnin' along now,
Jed."

Jed Winslow selected a new and unpainted sailor from the pile near
him. He eyed it dreamily.

"Well, Gabe," he observed, "if you must, you must, I suppose.
Seems to me you're leavin' at the most interestin' time. We've
been talkin' about this and that, same as you say, and now you're
leavin' just as 'this' has got here. Maybe if you wait--wait--a--"