It seemed to Joseph as he hurried along the Plain of Gennesaret that the sun shone gayer than his wont, but as he approached Capernaum he began to think that the sun had risen a little earlier than his wont. Nobody was about! He listened in vain for some sound of life, till at last his ear caught a sound as of somebody moving along the wharves, and, going thither, he came upon Peter storing his oars in the boathouse. Making ready, Joseph said, for fishing? You don't see, Master, that I'm putting my oars away, but I'd as lief take them out again and fish till evening. Here was a mysterious answer from the least mysterious of men, and Peter continued in his work, throwing the oars into a corner like one that cared little if he broke them, and kicking his nets aside as if he were never going to let them down again into the lake: altogether his mood was of an exasperation such as Joseph had never suspected to be possible in this good-humoured, simple fellow. Had he been obliged to leave the community or sell his boats? If that were so, his chance (Joseph's chance) of entering the community was a poor one indeed; and he begged Peter to relate his trouble to him--for trouble there had been last night, he was sure of it. Trouble there always is in this world, Peter answered, so long as I've known it, and will be till God sets up his kingdom. The sooner he does it the better, so say I. But I don't know about the saints we heard of yesterday, what they have to do with it. The Master's mood is stranger than I ever can recollect it, he said, standing up straight and looking Joseph in the eyes. It was yourself that said it yesterday, Peter, Joseph rejoined. I'm thinking it may have been the Samaritans that vexed him. Peter lifted his heavy shoulders and muttered: the Samaritans? We give no heed to them: and he began to speak, at first with diffidence; Joseph had to woo him into speaking, which he did; but after the first few minutes Peter was glib enough, telling Joseph that last night there had been stirs and quarrels among the disciples regarding his boats, and John's and James' boats too, he said, and by the jealous and envious, he muttered, who would like to come between us and the Master. Joseph asked who had raised the vexatious question, but Peter avoided it, and went about the wharf grunting that none could answer it: was it to Matthew, the publican, he was to give his boats? one, he said, who never was on the water in his life till I took him out for a sail a week come Tuesday. A fine use they'd be to him but to drown himself. A puff of wind, and not knowing how to take in a reef, the boat would be over in a jiffy and the nets lost. Now who would be the better for the loss of my nets? answer me that. And I'd like to be told when my boats and nets were at the bottom of the lake to whom would the Son of Man turn for a corner in which to lay his head, or for a bite or a sup of wine. John