“Look at me as if you expected me to explode at any minute. I sha'n't. I'm not loaded.” Seth colored, under his coat of sunburn, and seemed embarrassed. “I don't know what you're talkin' about,” he stammered. “Have the moskeeters affected YOUR brains?” “No. My brains, such as they are, are all right, and I want to keep them so. That's why I request you not to look at me in that way.” “How was I lookin' at you? I don't know what you mean.” “Yes, you do. You are wondering how much I know. I don't know anything and I'm not curious. That's the truth. Now why not let it go at that?” “See here, young feller, I--” “No; you see here. I'm not an Old Sleuth; I haven't any ambitions that way. I don't know anything about you--what you've been, what you've done--” “Done!” Seth leaned across the table so suddenly that he upset his chair. “Done?” he cried; “what do you mean by that? Who said I'd done anything? It's a lie.” “What is a lie?” “Why--why--er--whatever they said!” “Who said?” “Why, the ones that--that said what you said they said.” “I didn't say anyone had said anything.” “Then what do you mean by--by hintin'? Hey? What do you mean by it?” He brandished a clenched fist over the breakfast dishes. Brown leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “Call me when the patient recovers his senses,” he drawled wearily. “This delirium is painful to a sensitive nature.” Atkins's fist wavered in mid-air, opened, and was drawn across its owner's forehead. “Well, by jiminy!” exclaimed the lightkeeper with emphasis, “this is--is-- . . . I guess I BE crazy. If I ain't, you are. Would you mind tellin' me what in time you mean by THAT?” “It is not the mosquitoes,” continued his companion, in apparent soliloquy; “there are no mosquitoes at present. It must be the other thing, of course. But so early in the morning, and so violent. Alcohol is--” “SHUT UP!” It was not a request, but an order. Brown opened his eyes. “You were addressing me?” he asked, blandly. “Yes?” “Addressin' you! For thunder sakes, who else would I be ad-- . . . There! there! Now I cal'late you're hintin' that I'm drunk. I ain't.” “Indeed?” “Yes, indeed. And I ain't out of my head--not yet; though keepin' company with a Bedlamite may have some effect, I shouldn't wonder. Mr. John Brown--if that's your name, which I doubt--you listen to me.” “Very well, Mr. Seth Atkins--if that is your name, which I neither doubt nor believe, not being particularly interested--I'm listening. Proceed.” “You told me last night that you wanted the job of assistant keeper here at these lights. Course you didn't mean it.” “I did.” “You DID! . . . Well, YOU must be drunk or loony.” “I'm neither. And I meant it. I want the job.” Seth looked at him, and he looked at Seth. At length the lightkeeper spoke again.