"would you like to be an aviator?"

Jed's answer was solemnly given. "I'm afraid I shouldn't be much
good at the job," he drawled.

His visitor burst into another laugh. He looked at her over his
glasses.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing; I--I was just thinking of you in a uniform, that's
all."

Jed smiled his slow, fleeting smile.

"I guess likely I would be pretty funny," he admitted. "Any
Germans I met would probably die laughin' and that might help along
some."

But after Miss Hunniwell had gone he sat for some minutes gazing
out of the window, the wistful, dreamy look on his lean, homely
face. Then he sighed, and resumed his painting.

That afternoon, about half past five, he was still at his task
when, hearing the doorbell ring, he rose and went into the front
shop. To his astonishment the shop was empty. He looked about for
the expected customer or caller, whoever he or she might be, and
saw no one. He stepped to the window and looked out, but there was
no one on the steps or in the yard. He made up his mind that he
must have dreamed of the bell-ringing and was turning back to the