It was after two the next morning before Captain Elisha rose from his
chair by the fire and entered his bed chamber. Yet, when Atwood Graves
came down to breakfast, he found his host in the sitting room awaiting
him.

"Afore we tackle Abbie's pancakes and fishballs, Mr. Graves," said the
captain, "let's get the rest of that will business off our minds. Then
we can have the pancakes to take the taste out of our mouths, as you
might say. And let me ask you one more question. This--er--er--Caroline
and Stephen, they're used to livin' pretty well--fashionable society,
and the like of that, hey?"

"Yes. Their home was on Fifth Avenue, and the family moved in the best
circles."

"Hum! I should imagine life on twenty-odd thousand a year must be
pretty much all circles, one everlastin' 'turn your partners.' Well, Mr.
Graves, my circles down here are consider'ble smaller, but they suit me.
I'm worth twenty-odd thousand myself, not in a year, but in a lifetime.
I'm selectman and director in the bank and trustee of the church. When I
holler 'Boo,' the South Denboro folks--some of them, anyhow--set up and
take notice. I can lead the grand march down in this neighborhood once
in a while, and I cal'late I'm prettier leadin' it than I would be doin'
a solitaire jig for two years on the outside edge of New York's best
circles. And I'm mighty sure I'm more welcome. Now my eyesight's strong
enough to see through a two-foot hole after the plug's out, and I can
see that you and 'Bije's children won't shed tears if I say no to that
will. No offense meant, you know; just common sense, that's all."

This was plain speaking. Mr. Graves colored, though he didn't mean to,