“Why do you say that? How do you know I've been used to those things?” “'Cause, as I hinted to you a spell ago, I ain't altogether a dum fool. I can put two and two together and make four, without having the example done for me on a blackboard. You're a rich man's son; you've been used to sassiety and city ways and good clothes. YOU wantin' to put in your days and nights in a forsaken hole like this! Nonsense! Get out!” But Mr. Brown refused to get out. “No nonsense about it,” he declared. “It is the hand of Fate. With the whole broadside of Cape Cod to land upon, why was I washed ashore just at this particular spot? Answer:--Because at this spot, at this time, Eastboro Twin-Lights needed an assistant keeper. I like the spot. It is beautiful. 'Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife.' With your permission, I'll stay here. The leopard may or may not change his spots, but I sha'n't. I like this one and here I stay. Yes, I mean it. I stay--as your assistant. Come, what do you say? Is it a go?” The lightkeeper rose once more. “I'm goin' on watch,” he said with decision. “You turn in. You'll feel better in the mornin'.” He started towards the tower. But John Brown sprang from the bench and followed him. “Not until you've answered my question,” he declared. “AM I to be your assistant?” “No, course you ain't. It's dum foolishness. Besides, I ain't got the say; the government hires its own keepers.” “But you can square the government. That will be easy. Why,” with a modest gesture, “look what the government is getting. It will jump at the chance. Atkins, you must say yes.” “I sha'n't, neither. Let go of my arm. It's blame foolishness, I tell you. Why,” impatiently, “course it's foolishness! I don't know the first thing about you.” “What of it? I don't know anything about you, either.” Again the lightkeeper seemed unaccountably agitated. He stopped in his stride and whirled to face his companion. “What do you mean by that?” he demanded fiercely. Before the young man could reply, he turned again, strode to the door of the light, flung it open, and disappeared within. The door closed behind him with a thunderous bang. John Brown gazed after him in bewilderment. Then he shrugged his shoulders and returned to the bench. The surf at the foot of the bluff grumbled and chuckled wickedly, as if it knew all of poor humanity's secrets and found a cynic's enjoyment in the knowledge. CHAPTER IV THE COMING OF JOB The next morning Seth was gloomy and uncommunicative. At the breakfast table, when Brown glanced up from his plate, he several times caught the lightkeeper looking intently at him with the distrustful, half-suspicious gaze of the night before. Though quite aware of this scrutiny, he made no comment upon it until the meal was nearly over; then he observed suddenly: “It's all right; you needn't.” “Needn't what?” demanded Atkins, in astonishment.