“You remind me, Captain, that I did meet someone, after all. In Boston, not in New York, and I met him only yesterday. It was someone you know, too, and Mary here used to know him quite well, I think--young Crawford Smith, Sam's Harvard friend. He visited us here in South Harniss one summer.” Shadrach was the only one of the trio of listeners who made any comment at all on this speech. Even he did not speak for a moment, glancing apprehensively at Mary before doing so. Mary said nothing, and Zoeth, leaning back in his chair, his face hidden from his partner's gaze by the end of the counter, did not speak. “Sho!” exclaimed the Captain. “Sho! So you met him, did you! In Boston? That's funny. I had an idea he was out West somewheres.” “So did I. The last I heard concerning him he had given up his studies in the East here--he was studying medicine, as perhaps you know--and had gone back to his home in Nevada. His father, who was not at all well, asked him to do so. He had written Sam once or twice from out there. So I was surprised enough to see him in Boston. I met him in the South Station and we chatted for a few moments. He told me that his father was dead.” From behind the end of the counter where Zoeth sat came an odd sound, a sort of gasp. Shadrach leaned forward quickly. “What's the matter, Zoeth?” he asked. Before Zoeth could answer Mary spoke: “Dead!” she repeated. “Mr. Keith, I--did--did you say Crawford Smith's father was DEAD?” Her tone was so strange that even Mr. Keith could not help noticing it. He looked at her, seemed about to ask a question, and then answered hers instead. “Why, yes,” he said; “he is dead. He had been in poor health for some time, so his son told me, and about two weeks ago he died. Crawford did not tell me any particulars, nor did he say what had brought him East. In fact, he didn't seem anxious to talk; acted as if he had something on his mind. Of course I said I was sorry and he thanked me and inquired regarding Mrs. Keith and Edna and Sam. Then I had to hurry for my train. . . . Oh, are you going, Mary? Well, then, I must say good-by until next summer; we leave tomorrow morning.” Mary explained, rather hurriedly, that she must speak with Simeon for a few minutes, said good-by, shook hands and hastened out. Keith looked after her. “I hope I haven't made a blunder,” he said, “in speaking of young Smith. She and he were quite--er--friendly at one time, weren't they. I understood so from some remarks of Sam's. Didn't put my foot in it by mentioning the boy's name, did I? I certainly hope not.” Zoeth did not speak. Shadrach hastened to reassure him.