The captain smiled, in spite of his impatience. "And you won't be
anybody else for the next forty-five," he said, "I know that. But
all the same, bein' a practical, more or less sane man myself, it
makes me nervous to see a nice, attractive, comfortable little
house standin' idle while the feller that owns it eats and sleeps
in a two-by-four sawmill, so to speak. And, not only that, but
won't let anybody else live in the house, either. I call that a
dog in the manger business, and crazy besides."

The big foot at the end of the long leg swung slowly back and
forth. Mr. Winslow looked absently at the roof.

"DON'T look like that!" snapped Captain Sam. "Come out of it!
Wake up! It always gives me the fidgets to see you settin' gapin'
at nothin'. What are you daydreamin' about now, eh?"

Jed turned and gazed over his spectacles.

"I was thinkin'," he observed, "that most likely that dog himself
was crazy. If he wasn't he wouldn't have got into the manger. I
never saw a dog that wanted to climb into a manger, did you, Sam?"

"Oh, confound the manger and the dog, too! Look here, Jed; if I
found you a good tenant would you rent 'em that house of yours?"

Jed looked more troubled than ever.

"Sam," he began, "you know I'd do 'most anything to oblige you,
but--"