Abbie won't like to have you set lookin' at that empty plate. She's
always afraid folks'll notice the gilt's wearin' off. Pass it over
quick, and let me cover it with some more pie."

"Yes, and have some more tea," urged Miss Abbie. "You mustn't pay
attention to what he says, Mr. Graves," she went on. "Some day he'll
tell the truth by accident, and then I'll know it's time to send for the
doctor."

Several times the lawyer attempted to mention the business which had
brought him to the Cape, and the probability of his having made a
mistake. But neither host nor housekeeper would listen.

"When you've been in South Denboro as long as I have," declared the
former, "you'll understand that the time to talk business is when you
can't think of anything else. Wait till we get into the settin' room.
Abbie, those six or eight biscuits I've ate are gettin' lonesome. I'll
take another for sociability, thank you."

But, at last, when all the biscuits but one were gone, and the cake
plate looked like the Desert of Sahara, the captain pushed back his
chair, rose, and led the way into the next room. Miss Baker remained to
clear the table.

"Set down by the fire, Mr. Graves," urged the captain. "Nothin' like
burnin' wood to look hot and comf'table, is there? It don't always make
you feel that way--that's why I put in hot water heat--but for looks and
sociableness you can't beat a log fire. Smoke, do you?"

"Yes. Occasionally. But, Captain Warren--"