LITMIR.BIZ

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a small garden, or rather a series of small gardens. The divisions between them appeared to be exactly the same size and the plots themselves precisely the same size and shape. There were—although the captain did not learn this until later—seven of these plots, each exactly six by nine feet. But there resemblance ceased, for each was planted and arranged with a marked individuality. For example, the one nearest the lilac bushes was laid out in a sort of checkerboard pattern of squares, one square containing a certain sort of old-fashioned flower and its neighbors other varieties. The plot adjoining the checkerboard was arranged in diamonds and spirals; the planting here was floral also, whereas the next was evidently utilitarian, being given up entirely to corn, potatoes, onions, beets and other vegetables. And the next seemed to be covered with nothing except a triumphant growth of weeds.

      At the rear of these odd garden plots was a little octagonal building, evidently a summer-house. Over its door, a door fronting steps leading down to the gardens, was a sign bearing the name "The Eyrie." And behind the summer-house was a stretch of rather shabby lawn, a half dozen trees, and the rear of a large house. Captain Sears recognized the house as the Seymour residence, now the "Fair Harbor." He had strayed off the course and was trespassing upon his neighbors' premises. This fact was immediately brought to his attention. From somewhere at the rear of the gardens a shrill feminine voice exclaimed:

      "Mercy on us! Who's that?"

      And another feminine voice chimed in:

      "Eh! I declare it's a man, ain't it?"

      And the first voice observed sharply:

      "Of course it is. You didn't think I thought it was a cow, did you?"

      "But what's he doin' here? Is he a tramp?

      "I don't know, but I'm going to find out. Hi! Here! You—man—where are you going?"

      Captain Sears had, by this time, located the voices as coming from the "Eyrie," the summer-house with the poetical name. He had so far, however, been able to see nothing of the speakers. But now the tangle of woodbine and morning-glory which draped the front of the summer-house was drawn aside and revealed a rustic window—or unglazed window opening—with two heads framed in it like a double portrait. Both of these heads were feminine, but one was thin-faced and sharp-featured, and gray-haired, while the other was like a full moon—a full moon with several chins—and its hair was a startlingly vivid black parted in the middle and with a series of very regular ripples on each side.

      It was the thin face which was hailing him. The other was merely staring, open-eyed and open-mouthed.

      "Here, you—man!" repeated the shrill voice—belonging to the thin face. "Where are you going?"

      The captain smiled. "Why, nowhere in particular, ma'am," he replied. "I was just figurin' that I'd gone about as far as I could this voyage."

      His smile became a chuckle, but there were no symptoms of amusement visible upon the faces framed in the window of the Eyrie. The thin lips merely pressed tighter and the plump ones opened wider, that was all.

      "Why don't you answer my question?" demanded the thin woman. "What are you doing on these premises?"

      "Why, nothin' in particular, ma'am. I was just tryin' to take a little walk and not makin' a very good job at it."

      There was an interruption here. The full moon broke in to ask a question of its own.

      "Who is he? What's he talkin' about?" it demanded.

      "I don't know who he is—yet."

      "Well, what's he talkin' about? Make him speak louder."

      "I will, if you give me a chance. He says he is taking a walk. What are you taking a walk in here for? Don't you know it isn't allowed?"

      "Why, no, ma'am, I didn't. In fact I didn't realize I was in here until I—well—until I got here."

      "What is he sayin'?" demanded the moon-face again, and somewhat testily. "I can't hear a word."

      Now the captain's tone had been at least ordinarily loud, so it was evident that the plump woman's hearing was defective. Her curiosity, however, was not in the least impaired.

      "What's that man talkin' about now?" she persisted. Her companion became impatient.

      "Oh, I don't know," she snapped. "Do give me a chance, won't you? I think he's been drinking. He says he doesn't know where he is or how he got here."

      Kendrick thought it high time to protest. Also to raise his voice when doing so.

      "That wasn't exactly it," he shouted. "I was takin' a little walk, that's all. I have to navigate pretty slow for my legs aren't just right."

      "What did he say wa'n't right?" demanded the plump female.

      "His legs."

      "Eh! Legs! What's he talkin' about his legs for?"

      "Oh, I don't know! Do be still a minute. It's his head that isn't right, I guess he means. … Don't you know you're trespassing? What do you mean by coming in here?"

      "Well, ma'am, I didn't mean anything in particular. I just happened in by accident. I'm sorry."

      "Humph! You didn't come in here to run off with anything that didn't belong to you, I hope."

      The captain looked at her for a moment. Then his lip twitched.

      "No, ma'am," he said, solemnly, "I didn't come with that idea—but—"

      "But? What do you mean by 'but'?"

      "But I didn't realize what there was in here to run off with. If I had. … There, I guess I'd better go. Good day, ladies. Sorry I troubled you."

      He lifted his cap, turned, and limped out of sight around the clump of lilacs. From behind him came a series of indignant gasps and exclamations.

      "Why—why—Well, I never in all my born days! The saucy, impudent—"

      And the voice of the moon-faced one raised in bewildered entreaty:

      "What was it? What did he say? Elviry Snowden, why don't you tell me what 'twas he said?"

      Captain Kendrick hobbled back to the Minot yard. He hobbled through the orchard gate, leaving it ajar, and reaching the bench beneath the locust tree, collapsed upon it. For some time he was conscious of very little except the ache in his legs and the fact that breathing was a difficult and jerky operation. Then, as the fatigue and pain ceased to be as insistent, the memory of his interview with the pair in the Eyrie returned to him and he began to chuckle. After a time he fancied that he heard a sympathetic chuckle behind him. It seemed to come from the vegetable garden, Judah's garden, which, so Mr. Cahoon told his former skipper, he had set out himself and was "sproutin' and comin' up better'n ary other garden in the town of Bayport, if I do say it as shouldn't."

      Kendrick could not imagine who could be chuckling in that garden. Also he could not imagine where the chuckler could be hiding, unless it was behind the rows of raspberry and currant bushes. Slowly and painfully he rose to his feet and peered over the bushes. Then the mystery was explained. The "chuckles" were clucks. A flock of at least a dozen healthy and energetic hens were enthusiastically busy in the Cahoon beds. Their feet were moving like miniature steam shovels and showers of earth and infant vegetables were moving likewise. Judah had boasted that the fruits of his planting were "comin' up." If he had seen them at that moment he would have realized how fast they were coming up.

      The sight aroused Captain Kendrick's ire. He was, in a way of speaking, guardian of that vegetable patch. Judah had not formally appointed him to that position, but he had gone away and, by the fact of so doing, had left it in his charge. He felt responsible for its safety.

      "Shoo!" shouted the captain and, leaning upon his cane, limped toward the garden.

      "Shoo!" he roared again. The hens paid about as much attention to the roar as a gang of ditch diggers might pay to the buzz of a mosquito. Obviously something more drastic than shooing was necessary. The captain stooped and picked up a stone. He threw the stone and hit a hen.

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