"Don't get ye," admitted Jimsy. "Come again." And there was danger of a mutual dead-lock of comprehension. Aunt Judith saved the day. Arriving in the doorway with a flutter, she said that supper was ready and that James had better wash his face and hands. And James, who was Jimsy, meeting Aunt Judith's gentle eyes, turned scarlet, and stumbling to his feet, he stepped, en route, upon the stately toe of Lindon's pride. "Gee!" he burst forth contritely. "I'm awful sorry, honest Injun I am. Spoiled yer shine, didn't I? An' it was a beaut, too!" Could even a first citizen rebuke such eager apology? Better to stay within the certain shelter of a chilling silence. [Illustration] Abner Sawyer rose, but even as he did so his world of law and order seemed to rock in chaos about his feet. He was going out to supper--and he had not read a single line in the Lindon _Evening News_! [Illustration] [Illustration] II THE BISCUIT LINK It was at supper that the terrible realization came to Abner Sawyer that Jimsy liked everything and _every one_ rather too well. He liked the ham and he liked the biscuits, he accepted alarming quantities of marmalade with utter confidence in his digestion; his round eyes swept every nook of the prim old room and marveled at old-fashioned china and silver that might have come over in the _Mayflower_, and then again might not, and he continued irreverently unaware that the first citizen was president of the Lindon Bank and therefore not a person to be liked indiscriminately by urchins. Thanks to something in Aunt Judith's eyes, furtively concessional to boyhood, Jimsy had mislaid what little constraint and shyness he had had at first. His at-homeness might be gauged at a glance by the way he gazed at the biscuits. "Dear me," said Aunt Judith, glancing from Jimsy to the biscuits to see which most threatened the other, "I--I scarcely think--I hardly know. Abner?" Time, Abner, now to impress this urchin once for all with a show of power in terms he can understand! Mr. Sawyer settled the trivial question of biscuits with dignity. "James," he said. "You may have just _one_ more biscuit." And Aunt Judith nodded: "Just as you say, my dear!" as she had been nodding effasively for thirty years. Jimsy's eyes were very grateful and it came over the first citizen with sickening conviction that Jimsy, misinterpreting again, had regarded the biscuit as an overture instead of a show of power. Ridiculous indeed to have thrown about your neck the unwelcome chain of a boy's regard and then unintentionally to cement that chain--by a biscuit! Abner Sawyer departed hastily for his lamp, his fire and his paper. [Illustration]