“Find fault! I ain't findin' fault. I thought as much of Marcellus Hall as any man on earth, and nobody feels worse about his bein' took than I do. But I'm just sayin' what we both know's a fact. He didn't want to see us; he didn't want to see nobody. Since his wife died he lived alone in that house, except for a housekeeper and that stepchild, and never went anywhere or had anybody come to see him if he could help it. A reg'lar hermit--that's what he was, a hermit, like Peleg Myrick down to Setuckit P'int. And when I think what he used to be, smart, lively, able, one of the best skippers and smartest business men afloat or ashore, it don't seem possible a body could change so. 'Twas that woman that done it, that woman that trapped him into gettin' married.” “Sshh! Shh! Shadrach; she's dead, too. And, besides, I guess she was a real good woman; everybody said she was.” “I ain't sayin' she wasn't, am I? What I say is she hadn't no business marryin' a man twenty years older'n she was.” “But,” mildly, “you said she trapped him. Now we don't know--” “Zoeth Hamilton, you know she must have trapped him. You and I agreed that was just what she done. If she hadn't trapped him--set a reg'lar seine for him and hauled him aboard like a school of mackerel--'tain't likely he'd have married her or anybody else, is it? I ain't married nobody, have I? And Marcellus was years older'n I be.” “Well, well, Shadrach!” “No, 'tain't well; it's bad. He's gone, and--and you and me that was with him for years and years, his very best friends on earth as you might say, wasn't with him when he died. If it hadn't been for her he'd have stayed in South Harniss where he belonged. Consarn women! They're responsible for more cussedness than the smallpox. 'When a man marries his trouble begins'; that's gospel, too.” Zoeth did not answer. Captain Gould, after a sidelong glance at his companion, took a hand from the reins and laid it on the Hamilton knee. “I'm sorry, Zoeth,” he said, contritely; “I didn't mean to--to rake up bygones; I was blowin' off steam, that's all. I'm sorry.” “I know, Shadrach. It's all right.” “No, 'tain't all right; it's all wrong. Somebody ought to keep a watch on me, and when they see me beginnin' to get hot, set me on the back of the stove or somewheres; I'm always liable to bile over and scald the wrong critter. I've done that all my life. I'm sorry, Zoeth, you know I didn't mean--” “I know, I know. Ah hum! Poor Marcellus! Here's the first break in the old firm, Shadrach.” “Yup. You and me are all that's left of Hall and Company. That is--” He stopped short just in time and roared a “Git dap” at the horse. He had been on the point of saying something which would have been far more disastrous than his reference to the troubles following marriage. Zoeth was apparently not curious. To his friend's great relief he did not wait for the sentence to be finished, nor did he ask embarrassing questions. Instead he said: