“What a fine place you've got here, Abner!” she said, inspecting the office and the store. “I declare it's finer than the one you had when you first went into business, afore you failed. I wish father could have lived to see it. He'd have realized that his judgment was good, even though his investment wasn't.” Captain Hall had invested largely in that first business, the one which failed. Mr. Stone changed the subject. Later in the day he again sought his friend, the tailor, and Keziah was installed in the loft of the latter's Washington Street shop, beside the other women and girls who sewed and sewed from seven in the morning until six at night. Mr. Stone had left her there and come away, feeling that an unpleasant matter was disposed of. He had made some inquiries as to where she intended staying, even added a half-hearted invitation to dinner that evening at his home. But she declined. “No, thank you, Abner,” she said, “I'm goin' to find a boardin' place and I'd just as soon nobody knew where I was stayin', for the present. And there's one thing I want to ask you: don't tell a soul I am here. Not a soul. If anyone should come askin' for me, don't give 'em any satisfaction. I'll tell you why some day, perhaps. I can't now.” This was what troubled Mr. Stone as he sat in his office. Why should this woman wish to have her whereabouts kept a secret? There was a reason for this, of course. Was it a respectable reason, or the other kind? If the latter, his own name might be associated with the scandal. He wished, for the fiftieth time, that there were no poor relations. A boy came into the office. “There is some one here to see you, Mr. Stone,” he said. “Who is it?” “I don't know, sir. Looks like a seafaring man, a sea captain, I should say--but he won't give his name. Says it's important and nobody but you'll do.” “Humph! All right. Tell him to wait. I'll be out in a minute.” Sea captains and ship owners were Stone & Barker's best customers. The senior partner emerged from the office with a smile on his face. “Ah!” he said, extending his hand. “Glad to see you, Captain--er--” “Hammond,” replied the visitor. “Same to you, Mr. Stone.” “Fine weather for this time of year.” “Fine enough, Mr. Stone.” “Well, Captain Hammond, what can we do for you? Going to sail soon?” “Not right away. Just made port, less'n a week ago. Home looks good to me, for a spell, anyhow.” “So? Yes, I have no doubt. Let me see--where is your home, captain? I should remember, of course, but--” “Don't know why you should. This is my first trip in your latitude, I guess. My home's at Trumet.” “Trumet?” Mr. Stone's tone changed. “Yes. Trumet, down on the Cape. Ever been there? We think it's about as good a place as there is.” “Hu-u-m! Trumet? Well, Captain Hammond, you wished to see me, I understand.”