“There, there! Don't let it worry you, Ase. I've about decided what to say when I let her go. I'll tell her she is gettin' too old to be slavin' herself to death. You see, I don't want to make the old critter cry, nor I don't want her to get mad. Judgin' by the way she used to coax the cat outdoors with the broom handle she's got somethin' of a temper when she gets started. I'll give her an extry month's wages, and--” “You will, hey? You WILL?” The interruption came from behind the partially closed dining-room door. Mr. Tidditt sank back in his chair. Captain Cy sprang from his and threw the door wide open. Behind it crouched Mrs. Deborah Beasley. Her eyes snapped behind her spectacles, her lean form was trembling all over, and in her right hand she held a mammoth trumpet, the smaller end of which was connected with her ear. “You will, hey?” she screamed, brandishing her left fist, but still keeping the ear trumpet in place with her right. “You WILL? Well, I don't want none of your miser'ble money! Land knows how you made it, anyhow, and I wouldn't soil my hands with it. After all I've put up with, and the way I've done my work, and the things I've had to eat, and--and--” She paused for breath. Captain Cy scratched his chin. Asaph, gazing open-mouthed at the trumpet, stirred in his chair. Mrs. Beasley swooped down upon him like a gull on a minnow. “And you!” she shrieked. “You! a miserable little, good-for-nothin', lazy, ridiculous, dried-up-- . . . Oo--oo--OH! You call yourself a town clerk! YOU do! I--I wouldn't have you clerk for a hen house! I'm an old chromo, be I? Yes! that's nice talk, ain't it, to a woman old enough to be--that is--er--er--'most as old as you be! You sneakin', story-tellin', little, fat THING, you! You--oh, I can't lay my tongue to words to tell you WHAT you are.” “You're doin' pretty well, seems to me,” observed Captain Cy dryly. “I wouldn't be discouraged if I was you.” The only effect of this remark was to turn the wordy torrent in his direction. The captain bore it for a while; then he rose to his feet and commanded silence. “That's enough! Stop it!” he ordered, and, strange to say, Mrs. Beasley did stop. “I'm sorry, Debby,” he went on, “but you had no business to be listenin' even if--” and he smiled grimly, “you have got a new fog horn to hear with. You can go and pack your things as soon as you want to. I made up my mind the first day you come that you and me wouldn't cruise together long, and this only shortens the trip by a week or so. I'll pay you for this month and for the next, and I guess, when you come to think it over, you'll be willin' to risk soilin' your hands with the money. It's your own fault if anybody knows that you didn't leave of your own accord. _I_ shan't tell, and I'll see that Tidditt doesn't. Now trot! Ase and I'll get supper ourselves.”