popular.

His peculiar business, the making of wooden mills, toys and weather
vanes, had grown steadily. Now he shipped many boxes of these to
other seashore and mountain resorts. He might have doubled his
output had he chosen to employ help or to enlarge his plant, but he
would not do so. He had rented the old Winslow house furnished
once to a summer tenant, but he never did so again, although he had
many opportunities. He lived alone in the addition to the little
workshop, cooking his own meals, making his own bed, and sewing on
his own buttons.

And on the day following that upon which Leander Babbitt enrolled
to fight for Uncle Sam, Jedidah Edgar Wilfred Winslow was forty-
five years old.

He was conscious of that fact when he arose. It was a pleasant
morning, the sun was rising over the notched horizon of the
tumbling ocean, the breeze was blowing, the surf on the bar was
frothing and roaring cheerily--and it was his birthday. The
morning, the sunrise, the surf and all the rest were pleasant to
contemplate--his age was not. So he decided not to contemplate it.
Instead he went out and hoisted at the top of the short pole on the
edge of the bluff the flag he had set there on the day when the
United States declared war against the Hun. He hoisted it every
fine morning and he took it in every night.

He stood for a moment, watching the red, white and blue flapping
bravely in the morning sunshine, then he went back into his little
kitchen at the rear of the workshop and set about cooking his