perfectly sure either would have preferred having a tooth out. They ARE
the best men in the world and I am more certain of it every day."

Crawford did not laugh at the photographs. He was a young gentleman of
considerable discretion and he did not smile, not even at Captain Shad's
hands, the left with fingers separated and clutching a knee as if to
keep it from shaking, the right laid woodenly upon a gorgeously bound
parlor-table copy of "Lucille." Instead of laughing he praised the
originals of the pictures, talked reminiscently of his own visit
in South Harniss, and finally produced from his pocketbook a small
photographic print, which he laid upon the table beside the others.

"I brought that to show you," he said. "You were asking about my father,
you know, and I told you I hadn't a respectable photograph of him. That
was true; I haven't. Dad has another eccentricity besides his dislike of
the East and Eastern ways of living; he has a perfect horror of having
his photograph taken. Don't ask me why, because I can't tell you. It
isn't because he is ugly; he's a mighty good-looking man for his age, if
I do say it. But he has a prejudice against photographs of himself
and won't even permit me to take a snapshot if he can prevent it. Says
people who are always having their pictures taken are vain, conceited
idiots, and so on. However, I catch him unawares occasionally, and this
is a snap I took last summer. He and I were on a fishing trip up in the
mountains. We're great pals, Dad and I--more than most fathers and sons,
I imagine."

Mary took the photograph and studied it with interest. Mr. Smith,
senior, was a big man, broad-shouldered and heavy, with a full gray
beard and mustache. He wore a broad-brimmed hat, which shaded his
forehead somewhat, but his eyes and the shape of his nose were like his