at a stretch. And they're up all times of the night, fussin' over
account books and writin' letters and I don't know what all. It's plain
enough what's comin'. Everybody in town is on to it. Why, I was up to
the store t'other day settin' outside on the steps and Ab Bacheldor came
along. He hates Cap'n Shad worse'n pizen, you know. 'Hello, Isaiah!' he
says to me, he says. 'Is that you?' he says. 'Course it's me,' says I.
Who'd you think 'twas?' 'I didn't know but it might be the sheriff,'
he says. 'I understand he's settin' round nowadays just a-waitin'.' And
Zoeth was right within hearin', too!"

"Oh!" exclaimed Mary indignantly.

"Yup, that's what he said," went on Isaiah. "But I got in one dig on my
own hook. 'The sheriff don't wait much down to your house, Abner, does
he?' says I. 'You bet he don't,' says he; 'he don't have to.' 'Well,
he'd starve to death if he waited there long,' says I. Ho, ho! His
wife's the stingiest woman about her cookin' that there is on the Cape.
Why, one time she took a notion she'd keep boarders and Henry Ryder,
that drives the fruit cart, he started to board there. But he only
stayed two days. The fust day they had biled eggs and the next day
they had soup made out of the shells. Course that probably ain't
true--Henry's an awful liar--but all the same--"

"Never mind Henry Ryder, or Abner Bacheldor, either," interrupted Mary.
"How did you happen to send for me, Isaiah?"

"Eh? Oh, that just came of itself, as you might say. I kept gettin' more
and more tittered up and worried as I see how things was goin' and I
kept wishin' you was here, if 'twas only to have somebody to talk it
over with. But I didn't dast to write and when you was home Christmas I