Looking up, he saw advancing toward their humble residence the stout, ponderous figure of Nahum Jones, the landlord of the village inn. It was not often that Mr. Jones found his way to the beach. Usually he kept close to the tavern, unless he rode to some neighboring town. Therefore Robert was surprised to see him. Nahum Jones nodded slightly, and, taking off his straw hat, wiped the perspiration from his forehead. “Here, you, Bob,” he said, “Is your aunt at home?” “Yes, sir!” answered Robert, but not cordially, for he felt that Mr. Jones had been no friend of his uncle. “Well, tell her I’ve come to have a talk with her, do you hear?” “Yes, I hear,” answered the boy coolly. He rose from his chair and entered the house. “Aunt Jane,” he said, “here is Mr. Jones come to see you.” “What? The tavern keeper?” asked his aunt in great surprise. “Yes, aunt.” “What can that man want of me?” The question was answered, not by Robert but by Nahum Jones himself. “I want to have a little talk with you, ma’am,” said the burly landlord, entering without an invitation and seating himself unceremoniously. “I will listen to what you have to say, Mr. Jones,” said the widow, “but I will not pretend that I am glad to see you. You were an enemy to my poor husband.” “I don’t know what you mean, Mrs. Trafton. Did he ever tell you that I was his enemy?” “No, but it was you who sold him liquor and took the money which he should have spent on his own family.” “All nonsense, ma’am. You women are the most unreasonable creatures. I didn’t ask him to drink.” “You tempted him to do it.” “I deny it!” said the landlord warmly. “I couldn’t refuse to sell him what he asked for, could I? You must be a fool to talk so!” said the landlord roughly. “I’ll trouble you to speak respectfully to my aunt, Mr. Jones,” said Robert with flashing eyes. “Mind your own business, you young rascal!” said Nahum Jones, whose temper was not of the best. “I mean to,” retorted Robert. “My business is to protect my aunt from being insulted.” “Wait till you’re a little bigger, boy,” said Jones with a sneer. Robert involuntarily doubled up his fist and answered: “I mean to protect her now.” “Mrs. Trafton,” said Nahum Jones, highly irritated, “you’d better silence that young cub or I may kick him out of doors!” “You appear to forget that you are not in your own house, Nahum Jones,” said the widow with dignity. “My nephew has acted perfectly right and only spoke as he should.” “So you sustain him in his impudence, do you?” snarled Jones, showing his teeth. “If that is all you have come to say to me, Mr. Jones, you may as well go.” “By George, ma’am, you are mighty independent!” “I am not dependent on the man who ruined my poor husband.” “No, but you’re dependent on me!” exclaimed the landlord, pounding the floor forcibly with his cane. “Will you explain yourself, sir?”