“Say,” he began, after a moment of uncomfortable silence, “would you mind--now that I've begged your pardon and all--tellin' me what did happen while I was away. I imagine, judgin' by the looks of things in the kitchen, that there was--er--well, consider'ble doin', as the boys say.” He grinned. Brown tried to be serious, but was obliged to smile in return. “I'll tell you,” he said. “Of course you know where that--er--remarkable dog came from?” “I can guess,” drily. “Henry G.'s present, ain't he? Humph! Well, I'd ought to have known that anything Henry would GIVE away was likely to be remarkable in all sorts of ways. All right! that's one Henry's got on me. Tomorrow afternoon me and Job take a trip back to Eastboro, and one of us stays there. It may be me, but I have my doubts. I agreed to take a DOG on trial, not a yeller-jaundiced cow with a church organ inside of it. Hear the critter whoopin' down there in the boathouse! And he's eat everything that's chewable on the reservation already. He's a famine on legs, that pup. But never mind him. He's been tried--and found guilty. Tell me what happened.” Brown began the tale of the afternoon's performances, beginning with his experience as a lobster catcher. Seth smiled, then chuckled, and finally burst into roars of laughter, in which the narrator joined. “Jiminy crimps!” exclaimed Seth, when the story was finished. “Oh, by jiminy crimps! that beats the Dutch, and everybody's been told what the Dutch beat. Ha, ha! ho, ho! Brown, I apologize all over again. I don't wonder you was put out when I accused you of spyin'. Wonder you hadn't riz up off that sand and butchered me where I stood. Cal'late that's what I'd have done in your place. Well, I hope there's no hard feelin's now.” “No. Your apology, is accepted.” “That's good. Er--er--say, you--you must have been sort of surprised to see me paintin' the Daisy M.” “The which?” “The Daisy M. That's the name of that old schooner I was to work on.” “Indeed. . . . How is the weather tonight, clear?” “Yes, it's fair now, but looks sort of thick to the east'ard. I say you must have been surprised to see me paintin' the Daisy M. I've been tinkerin' on that old boat, off and on, ever since last fall. Bought her for eight dollars of the feller that owned her, and she was a hulk for sartin then. I've caulked her up and rigged her, after a fashion. Now she might float, if she had a chance. Every afternoon, pretty nigh, I've been at her. Don't know exactly why I do it, neither. And yet I do, too. Prob'ly you've wondered where I was takin' all that old canvas and stuff. I--” “Excuse me, Atkins. I mind my own business, you know. I ask no questions, and you are under no obligation to tell me anything.”