“Go ’long, Betsy, go ’long! That husky football hero don’t need you to fight his battles. If she presses him too hard, he’ll get married himself. I guess he’s got a pretty solid place in the bank. When did you get back?” “A month ago.” “Mrs. Bruce come down here with you?” Hiram’s eyes as he asked the question left his companion’s face for the first time, and roved toward the windows of the cottage retreating amid its greenery. As if his question had evoked the apparition, a light-haired lady suddenly appeared in the open doorway. She was a woman of about forty-five years, but her blonde hair concealed its occasional silver threads, and her figure was girlishly slender. She regarded the couple for a moment through her gold eye-glasses, and then came down the steps and through the garden-path. “I thought I couldn’t be mistaken, Captain Salter,” she said graciously, extending one hand, ringed and sparkling, and with the other protecting the waves of her carefully dressed hair from the boisterous breeze. The captain, continuing to trail the rug behind him, touched his cap and allowed his rough fingers to be taken for a moment. “The Clever Betsy here was carrying too much sail,” he explained. “I took ’em down.” Mrs. Bruce laughed amiably. “And found you’d run into a squall, no doubt,” she responded, observing her handmaid’s reddened countenance. Mrs. Bruce’s eyes could be best described as busy. There was nothing subtle about her glances. She made it quite evident that nothing escaped her, and the trim exactness of her dress and appearance seemed to match her observations. “It seems good to be back in Fairport,” she went on. “One summer’s absence is quite enough, though I plan to slip away just for a little while to take a look at the Yellowstone this year.” “That so? Should think you’d had travelin’ enough for one spell,” rejoined Hiram. “Oh, it’s an appetite that grows with what it feeds on, Captain Salter. I dare say you have been a rover, too. I know how all you sea-captains are.” “No’m. My line’s ben fish, mostly.” “And,” added Mrs. Bruce, “taking care of us poor land-lubbers in summer. My son was well satisfied with your sale of his boat. I don’t know whether he will get another this summer or not. You’ll be here as usual, I hope?” “Looks that way.” “I’m glad. I’m positively attached to the Gentle Annie.” “Haven’t got her no more,” returned Hiram quietly. “I’ve parted with her.” “Oh, I’m sorry. I suppose the new one’s better.” “Well, she’s just as good, anyway.” “But if she’s not better, I don’t see why you let the Annie go.” “’Taint always in our power to hold on to things when we’d like to,” responded Hiram equably. Mrs. Bruce’s eyes shone with interest behind her bi-focals. “Poor man!” she thought. “How improvident these ignorant people are! Probably went into debt, and had to lose his boat, and calculated on doing enough business this summer to pay for the new one.”