“Why, yes, I suppose they have,” I said, puzzled to know what he was driving at. “It is a public road, practically.” “No, 'tain't, neither. It's a private way, and if you wanted to you could shut it off any day. A good many folks would have shut it off afore this.” “Oh, I guess not.” “I guess yes. I'd shut it off myself. I wouldn't have Tom, Dick and Harry drivin' fish wagons and tip carts full of seaweed through my premises free gratis for nothin'.” “Why?” I asked. “What harm does it do?” “I don't know as it does any. But because a tramp sleepin' on my front piazza might not harm the piazza, that's no reason why I'd let him sleep there.” I laughed. “The two cases aren't exactly alike, are they?” I said. “The land is of no value to us at present. Mother and I are glad to have the Lane used, if it is a convenience, as I suppose it is.” “It's that, sartin. Ros, who owns that land the Lane runs through--you or your mother?” “It is in my name,” I said. “Um-hm. Well, would you sell it?” “Sell it! Sell that strip of sand and beach grass! Who would buy it?” “I don't know as anybody would. I just asked if you'd sell it, that's all.” “Perhaps I would. I presume I should, if I had the chance.” “Ain't had any chance yet, have you?” “What do you mean by that?” “Oh, nothin', nothin'! Well, you just think it over. If you decide you would sell it and get so fur as fixin' a price on it, let me know, will you?” “Captain, what in the world do you want of that land? See here! you don't want to shut off the Shore Lane, do you?” “What in time would I want to shut it off for? I use it as much as anybody, don't I?” “Then I don't see--” “Maybe there ain't nothin' TO see. Only, if you decide to sell, let me know. Yes, and don't sell WITHOUT lettin' me know. Understand?” “No, I don't.” “Well, you understand enough, I cal'late. All I want you to do is to promise not to sell that land the Lane's on without speakin' to me fust. Will you promise that?” I considered for a moment. “Yes,” I said, “I'll promise that. Though I can't imagine what you're driving at.” “You don't need to. Maybe I'm just drivin' blind; I hope I am. That's all I wanted to talk about,” rising from the settee. “Oh, by the way,” he added, “your neighborhood's honored just now, ain't it? The King of New York's arrived, they tell me.” “King of New York? Oh! I see; you mean the Coltons.” “Sartin. Who else? Met his Majesty yet?” “No. Have you?” “I met him when he was down a month ago. Sim Eldredge introduced me right here in the store. 'Mr. Colton,' says Sim, proud but humble, so to speak, 'let me make you acquainted with one of our selectmen, Cap'n Dean. Cap'n, shake hands with Mr. Colton of New York.' We shook, and I cal'late I'd ought to have kept that hand in a glass case ever since. But, somehow or other, I ain't.” “What sort of a chap is Colton?” I asked.