bidding, his wife put him out like he was a tin lamp.

"Don't SPEAK to me!" says she. "Don't you DARE speak to me."

He didn't dare. He just run up a storm sail and beat for harbor back of
the barn. And from the piazza Milo cackled vainglorious.

Me and Cap'n Jonadab and Peter T. felt so sorry for Eddie, knowing what
he had coming to him from the Duchess, that we went out to see him. He
was setting on a wrecked hencoop, looking heart-broke but puzzled.

"'Twas that Saltmarsh made me lose my nerve," he says. "I thought when
he wouldn't bid there was something wrong with the dishes. And there WAS
something wrong, too. Now what was it?"

"Maybe the price was too high," says I.

"No, 'twa'n't that. I b'lieve yet he thought they were imitations. Oh,
if they only were!"

And then, lo and behold you, around the corner comes Adoniram Rogers.
I'd have bet large that whatever conscience Adoniram was born with had
dried up and blown away years ago. But no; he'd resurrected a remnant.

"Mr. Small," stammered Mr. Rogers, "I'm sorry you feel bad about not
buying them dishes. I--I thought I'd ought to tell you--that is to say,
I--Well, if you want another set, I cal'late I can get it for you--that
is, if you won't tell nobody."

"ANOTHER set?" hollers Eddie, wide-eyed. "Anoth--Do you mean to say