“Humph!” he grunted. “He seems to tell you a good many things he doesn't tell the rest of us.” The housekeeper nodded. “Yes,” she said gravely, “I shouldn't wonder if he did.” A moment later she added, “Cap'n Lote, you will be careful, won't you? You wouldn't want Al to go off and leave Z. Snow and Company when him and you are gettin' on so much better. You ARE gettin' on better, ain't you?” The captain pulled at his beard. “Yes,” he admitted, “seems as if we was. He ain't any wonder at bookkeepin', but he's better'n he used to be; and he does seem to try hard, I'll say that for him.” Rachael beamed gratification. “He'll be a Robert Penfold yet,” she declared; “see if he isn't. So you musn't encourage him into enlistin' in the Canadian army. You wouldn't want him to do that any more'n the rest of us would.” The captain gazed intently into the bowl of the pipe which he had been cleaning. He made no answer. “You wouldn't want him to do that, would you?” repeated the housekeeper. Captain Lote blew through the pipe stem. Then he said, “No, I wouldn't . . . but I'm darn glad he's got the spunk to WANT to do it. We may get that Portygee streak out of him, poetry and all, give us time; eh, Rachael?” It was the first time in months that he had used the word “Portygee” in connection with his grandson. Mrs. Ellis smiled to herself. In April the arbutus buds began to appear above the leaf mold between the scrub oaks in the woods, and the walls of Fletcher Fosdick's new summer home began to rise above the young pines on the hill by the Inlet in the Bay Road. The Item kept its readers informed, by weekly installments, of the progress made by the builders. The lumber for Mr. Fletcher Fosdick's new cottage is beginning to be hauled to his property on Inlet Hill in this town. Our enterprising firm of South Harniss dealers, Z. Snow & Co., are furnishing said lumber. Mr. Nehemiah Nickerson is to do the mason work. Mr. Fosdick shows good judgment as well as a commendable spirit in engaging local talent in this way. We venture to say he will never regret it. A week later: Mr. Fletcher Fosdick's new residence is beginning building, the foundation being pretty near laid. And the following week: The Fosdick mansion is growing fast. South Harniss may well be proud of its new ornament. The rise in three successive numbers from “cottage” to “mansion” is perhaps sufficient to indicate that the Fosdick summer home was to be, as Issachar Price described it, “Some considerable house! Yes sir, by crimus, some considerable!”