"No," said Cap'n Jonah. "I'll raise the wind in some other way." "First of all we'll see if we can't make the Pettys believe you have got a fortune," Cap'n Abe said, more briskly. "Leave it to me, Cap'n Hand. I guess we can find some way of overreaching them that tries to overreach. You come in again soon. I'll have somethin' cooked up for ye, I don't doubt." CHAPTER XII THE APOSTATE SANTA CLAUS Heart-warmed by Cap'n Abe's promise of assistance and by his coffee, the two cronies started homeward. A keen off-shore gale bit frostily. The stars were sprinkled thickly upon a purple sky. Cap'n Jonah was much more cheerful; but 'Liphalet soon drifted into the doldrums again. Spurred by his interest in his friend's trouble, his thoughts had veered from his own case; now memory began to rasp his mind again in a very tender spot. "Tell ye what!" observed Cap'n Jonah briskly. "If I was a marryin' man I sartain sure would set my stays and carry all sail till I run down along a woman like Miss Sue Ambrose. That would fix me fine! She's got a plenty and she seems like a smooth-tempered party. Nothin' like Sarah Hand, that was." "By Hannah!" snorted 'Liphalet, "would you marry for money, Cap'n Hand?" "No. I don't presume I would," replied Cap'n Jonah reflectively. "But if I was wantin' to marry I sartain sure wouldn't kick none if the woman I picked out chanced to have a tidy bit laid away. Whatever!" "Good night!" said 'Liphalet bitterly, and left him abruptly at the mouth of the Petty lane. Eliphalet Truitt was deeply disturbed in his mind. He regarded what he had been forced to listen to from the loungers in the store this evening as the capsheaf of all the rasping incidents that had of late disturbed his mental poise. He was hurt. More than that, he began to feel that Washy Gallup was right. In the homely phraseology of the community, he had allowed his leg to be pulled for all these ten years. He was a "good thing." He had made the mistake of trying to buy (so he now thought) the love and friendship he craved as a lonely and disappointed man. These people he lived among looked upon him merely as a convenience and a silly fellow, to be bled from the pocket for the general advantage. It was true that heretofore he had enjoyed doing his bit and giving his thought and time to the children's holiday. But now, as this Christmas loomed near, the thought of hanging a tree with presents and packing a bag with goodies for the little ones filled Eliphalet Truitt with loathing. As he scuffled along the Shell Road in the dark, he heard a mother threatening her wayward offspring at the back door. "You'd better be mighty good, Ezra Saltus, or Mr. 'Liphalet won't hang no Chris'mas gift on the tree for you."