IT" \t " 
 
 l\ 
 
 JOSEPH
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS
 
 He crept close to the bungalow window and peeped in."
 
 THE 
 WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 A Yarn of Eastboro Twin-Lights 
 BY JOSEPH C.,_LINCOLN 
 
 Author of "Cap n Eri, "The Depot Master," 
 "Mr. Pratt/ "Partners of the Tide," etc. 
 
 WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS 
 BY HOWARD HEATH 
 
 A. L. BURT COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1911, BT 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 Copyright, 1904, 1906, 1911, by Ainslee Magazine Company 
 
 Printed in the United States of America
 
 TO 
 J. FREEMAN LINCOLN
 
 FOREWORD 
 
 (By Way of Explanation) 
 
 A STORY of mine called, like this, " The Woman- 
 Haters," appeared recently in one of the maga 
 zines. That story was not this one, except in part 
 the part dealing with " John Brown " and Miss 
 Ruth Graham. Readers of the former tale who 
 perhaps imagine they know all about Seth Atkins 
 and Mrs. Emeline Bascom will be surprised to find 
 they really know so little. The truth is that, when 
 I began to revise and rearrange the magazine story 
 for publication as a book, new ideas came, grew, 
 and developed. I discovered that I had been mis 
 informed concerning the lightkeeper s past and 
 present relations with the housekeeper at the bunga 
 low. And there was " Bennie D." whom I had 
 overlooked, had not mentioned at all; and that re 
 juvenated craft, the Daisy M.; and the high tide 
 which is, or should be, talked about in Eastboro 
 even yet; all these I had omitted for the very good 
 
 vii
 
 FOREWORD 
 
 reason that I never knew of them. I have tried 
 to be more careful this time. During the re 
 vising process u The Woman-Haters " has more 
 than doubled in length and, let us hope, in accuracy. 
 Even now it is, of course, not a novel, but merely a 
 summer farce-comedy, a " yarn." And this, by the 
 way, is all that it pretends to be. 
 
 JOSEPH C. LINCOLN. 
 
 May, 1911.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 I. MR. SETH ATKINS i 
 
 II. MR. JOHN BROWN n 
 
 III. MR. BROWN PUTS IN AN APPLICATION . 25 
 IV. THE COMING OF JOB . . . ... 43 
 
 V. THE GOING OF JOSHUA . . . 71 
 
 VI. THE PICNIC . . . . . . .91 
 
 VII. OUT OF THE BAG 115 
 
 VIII. NEIGHBORS AND WASPS . . . .138 
 
 IX. THE BUNGALOW GIRL . . . -154 
 
 X. THE BUNGALOW WOMAN . . . .177 
 
 XI. BEHIND THE SAND DUNE .... 200 
 
 XII. THE LETTER AND THE THONE . . 224 
 
 XIII. "JOHN BROWN" CHANGES His NAME . 242 
 
 XIV. "BENNIE D" . 258 
 
 XV. THE VOYAGE OF THE Daisy M. . . 282 
 
 XVI. THE EBB TIDE 311 
 
 XVII. WOMAN-HATERS 328 
 
 ix
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 MR. SETH ATKINS 
 
 THE stars, like incandescent lights fed by 
 a fast weakening dynamo, grew pale, 
 faded, and, one by one, went out. The 
 slate-colored sea, with its tumbling waves, changed 
 color, becoming a light gray, then a faint blue, and, 
 as the red sun rolled up over the edge of the 
 eastern horizon, a brilliant sapphire, trimmed with 
 a silver white on the shoals and along the beach 
 at the foot of the bluff. 
 
 Seth Atkins, keeper of the Eastboro Twin- 
 Lights, yawned, stretched, and glanced through 
 the seaward windows of the octagon-shaped, glass- 
 enclosed room at the top of the north tower, where 
 he had spent the night just passed. Then he rose 
 from his chair and extinguished the blaze in the 
 great lantern beside him. Morning had come, the 
 mists had rolled away, and the dots scattered along 
 
 i
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 the horizon schooners, tugs, and coal barges, for 
 the most part no longer needed the glare of 
 Eastboro Twin-Lights to warn them against close 
 proximity to the dangerous, shoal-bordered coast. 
 Incidentally, it was no longer necessary for Mr. 
 Atkins to remain on watch. He drew the curtains 
 over the polished glass and brass of the lantern, 
 yawned again, and descended the winding iron 
 stairs to the door at the foot of the tower, opened 
 it and emerged into the sandy yard. 
 
 Crossing this yard, before the small white house 
 which the government provided as a dwelling place 
 for its lightkeepers, he opened the door of the 
 south tower, mounted the stairs there and repeated 
 the extinguishing process with the other lantern. 
 Before again descending to earth, however, he 
 stepped out on the iron balcony surrounding the 
 light chamber and looked about him. 
 
 The view, such as it was, was extensive. To 
 the east the open sea, the wide Atlantic, rolling 
 lazily in the morning light, a faint breeze rippling 
 the surfaces of the ground-swell. A few sails in 
 sight, far out. Not a sound except the hiss and 
 splash of the surf, which, because of a week of 
 calms and light winds, was low even for that time 
 of year early June. 
 
 2
 
 MR. SETH ATKINS 
 
 To the north stretched the shores of the back 
 of the Cape. High clay bluffs, rain-washed and 
 wrinkled, sloping sharply to the white sand of the 
 beach a hundred feet below. Only one building, 
 except those connected with the lighthouses, near 
 at hand, this a small, gray-shingled bungalow 
 about two hundred yards away, separated from 
 the lights by the narrow stream called Clam Creek 
 Seth always spoke of it as the " Crick " which, 
 turning in behind the long surf-beaten sandspit 
 known, for some forgotten reason, as " Black 
 Man s Point," continued to the salt-water pond 
 which was named " The Cove." A path led down 
 from the lighthouses to a bend in the " Crick," 
 and there, on a small wharf, was a shanty where 
 Seth kept his spare lobster and eel-pots, dory sails, 
 nets, and the like. The dory itself, with the oars 
 in her, was moored in the cove. 
 
 A mile off, to the south, the line of bluffs 
 was broken by another inlet, the entrance to 
 Pounddug Slough. This poetically named chan 
 nel twisted and wound tortuously inland through . 
 salt marshes and between mudbanks, widening at- 
 last to become Eastboro Back Harbor, a good- 
 sized body of water, with the village of Eastboro 
 at its upper end. In the old days, when Eastboro 
 
 3
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 amounted to something as a fishing port, the 
 mackerel fleet unloaded its catch at the wharves 
 in the Back Harbor. Then Pounddug Slough 
 was kept thoroughly dredged and buoyed. Now 
 it was weed-grown and neglected. Only an occa 
 sional lobsterman s dory traversed its winding 
 ways, which the storms and tides of each suc 
 ceeding winter rendered more difficult to navigate. 
 The abandoned fish houses along its shores were 
 falling to pieces, and at intervals the stranded 
 hulk of a fishing sloop or a little schooner, rotting 
 in the sun, was a dismal reminder that Eastboro s 
 ambitious young men no longer got their living 
 alongshore. The town itself had gone to sleep, 
 awakening only in the summer, when the few cot 
 tagers came and the Bay Side Hotel was opened 
 for its short season. 
 
 Behind the lighthouse buildings, to the west 
 and in the direction of the village were five miles 
 of nothing in particular. A desolate wilderness 
 of rolling sand-dunes, beach grass, huckleberry 
 and bayberry bushes, cedar swamps, and small 
 clumps of pitch-pines. Through this desert the 
 three or four rutted, crooked sand roads, leading 
 to and from the lights, turned and twisted. Along 
 their borders dwelt no human being; but life was 
 
 4
 
 MR. SETH ATKINS 
 
 there, life in abundance. Ezra Payne, late assistant 
 keeper at the Twin-Lights, was ready at all times 
 to furnish evidence concerning the existence of this 
 life. 
 
 " My godfreys domino! " Ezra had exclaimed, 
 after returning from a drive to Eastboro village, 
 " I give you my word, Seth, they dummed nigh 
 et me alive. They covered the horse all up, so that 
 he looked for all the world like a sheep, woolly. 
 I don t mind moskeeters in moderation, but when 
 they roost on my eyelids and make em so heavy 
 I can t open em, then I m ready to swear. But I 
 couldn t get even that relief, because every time I 
 unbattened my mouth a million or so flew in and 
 choked me. That s what I said a million. Some 
 moskeeters are fat, but these don t get a square 
 meal often enough to be anything but hide-racks 
 filled with cussedness. Moskeeters ! My godfreys 
 domino ! " 
 
 Ezra was no longer assistant lightkeeper. He 
 and his superior had quarreled two days before. 
 The quarrel was the culmination, on Ezra s part, 
 of a gradually developing " grouch " brought on 
 by the loneliness of his surroundings. After a 
 night of duty he had marched into the house, 
 packed his belongings in a battered canvas exten- 
 3 5
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 sion case, and announced his intention of resigning 
 from the service. 
 
 " To the everlastin brimstone with the job ! " 
 he snarled, addressing Mr. Atkins, who, partially 
 dressed, emerged from the bedroom in bewilder 
 ment and sleepy astonishment. " To thunder with 
 it, I say ! I ve had all the gov ment jobs I want. 
 Life-savin service was bad enough, trampin the 
 condemned beach in a howlin no theaster, with the 
 sand cuttin furrers in your face, and the icicles on 
 your mustache so heavy you got round-shouldered 
 luggin em. But when your tramp was over, you 
 had somebody to talk to. Here, by godfreys ! 
 there ain t nothin nor nobody. I m goin fishin 
 again, where I can be sociable." 
 
 "Humph!" commented Seth, "you must be 
 lonesome all to once. Ain t my company good 
 enough for you? " 
 
 "Company! A heap of company you are I 
 When I m awake you re alseep and snorin and " 
 
 " I never snored in my life," was the indignant 
 interruption. 
 
 "What? You ll snore when you re dead, and 
 wake up the whole graveyard. Lonesome ! " he 
 continued, without giving his companion a chance 
 to retort, " lonesome ain t no name for this place. 
 
 6
 
 MR. SETH ATKINS 
 
 No company but green flies and them moskeeters, 
 and nothin to look at but salt water and sand and 
 and dummed if I can think of anything else. 
 Five miles from town and the only house in sight 
 shut tight. When I come here you told me that 
 bungalow was opened up every year " 
 
 " So it has been till this season." 
 
 " And that picnics come here every once in a 
 while." 
 
 " Don t expect picnickers to be such crazy loons 
 as to come here in winter time, do you ? " 
 
 * I don t know. If they re fools enough to 
 come here any time, / wouldn t be responsible for 
 em. There ain t so many moskeeters in winter. 
 But just look at this hole. Just put on your specs 
 and look at it ! Not a man but you not a wo 
 man, not a child, not a girl " 
 
 " Ah ha ! ah ha ! Now we re gettin at it ! Not 
 a girl ! That s what s the matter with you. You 
 want to be up in the village, where you can go 
 courtin . You re too fur from Elsie Peters, that s 
 where the shoe pinches. I ve heard how you used 
 to set out in her dad s backyard, with your arm 
 round her waist, lookin at each other, mushy as 
 a couple of sassers of hasty-puddin . Bah! I ll 
 take care my next assistant ain t girl-struck." 
 
 7
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 "Girl-struck! I d enough sight ruther be girl- 
 struck than always ravin and rippin against fe 
 males. And all because some woman way back 
 in Methusalem s time had sense enough to heave 
 you over. At least, that s what everybody cal lates 
 must be the reason. You pretend to be a woman- 
 hater. All round this part of the Cape you ve 
 took pains to get up that kind of reputation; 
 
 but " 
 
 There ain t no pretendin about it. I ve got 
 brains enough to keep clear of petticoats. And 
 when you get to be as old as I be and know as 
 much as I do though that ain t no ways likely, 
 even if you live to be nine hundred and odd, like 
 Noah in Scripture you ll feel the same way." 
 
 " Aw, come off ! Woman-hater ! You hate 
 women same as the boy at the pcorhouse hated ice 
 cream cause there ain t none around. Why, I 
 wouldn t trust you as fur as I could see you ! " 
 
 This was the end of the dialogue, because Mr. 
 Payne was obliged to break off his harangue and 
 dodge the stove-lifter flung at him by the outraged 
 lightkeeper. As the lifter was about to be fol 
 lowed by the teakettle, Ezra took to his heels, 
 bolted from the house and began his long tramp 
 to the village. When he reached the first clumps 
 
 8
 
 MR. SETH ATKINS 
 
 of bayberry bushes bordering the deeply rutted 
 road, a joyful cloud of mosquitoes rose and settled 
 about him like a fog. 
 
 So Seth Atkins was left alone to do double 
 duty at Eastboro Twin-Lights, pending the ap 
 pointment of another assistant. The two days and 
 nights following Ezra s departure had been strenu 
 ous and provoking. Doing all the housework, pre 
 paration of meals included, tending both lights, 
 rubbing brass work, sweeping and scouring, sleep 
 ing when he could and keeping awake when he 
 must, nobody to talk to, nobody to help the forty- 
 eight hours of solitude had already convinced Mr. 
 Atkins that the sooner a helper was provided the 
 better. At times he even wished the disrespectful 
 Payne back again, wished that he had soothed in 
 stead of irritated the departed one. Then he re 
 membered certain fragments of their last conver 
 sation and wished the stove-lifter had been flung 
 with better aim. 
 
 Now, standing on the gallery of the south tower, 
 he was conscious of a desire for breakfast. Pre 
 paring that meal had been a part of his assistant s 
 duties. Now he must prepare it himself, and he 
 was hungry and sleepy. He mentally vowed that 
 he would no longer delay notifying the authorities 
 
 9
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 of the desertion, and would urge them to hurry 
 in sending some one to fill the vacant place. 
 
 Grumbling aloud to himself, he moved around 
 the circle of the gallery toward the door. His 
 hand was on the latch, when, turning, he cast an 
 other glance over the rail, this time directly down 
 ward toward the beach below. And there he saw 
 something which caused him to forget hunger and 
 grievances of all kinds; something which, after one 
 horrified look to make sure, led him to dart into 
 the light chamber, spring at a reckless gait down 
 the winding stair, out of the tower, rush to the 
 edge of the bluff, and plunge headlong down the 
 zigzag path worn in the clay. 
 
 On the sand, at the foot of the bluff below the 
 lights, just beyond reach of the wash of the surf, 
 lay a man, or the dead body of a man, stretched 
 at full length.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 MR. JOHN BROWN 
 
 ONCE before, during his years of service 
 as keeper of Eastboro Twin-Lights, had 
 Seth seen such a sight as that which now 
 caused him to make his dash for the shore. Once 
 before, after the terrible storm of 1905, when the 
 great steamer Bay Queen went down with all on 
 board, the exact spot of her sinking unknown even 
 to this day. Then the whole ocean side of the 
 Cape, from Race Point to Orham, was strewn 
 with ghastly relics. But the Bay Queen met her 
 fate in the winter season, amid a gale such as even 
 the oldest residents could not remember. Now it 
 was early summer; the night before had been a 
 flat calm. There had been no wreck, or the life- 
 savers would have told him of it. There would 
 be no excuse for a wreck, anyway. 
 
 All this, in disjointed fragments, passed through 
 the lightkeeper s mind as he descended the path in 
 frantic bounds and plowed through the ankle-deep 
 
 ii
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 white sand of the beach. As he approached the 
 recumbent figure he yelled a panted " Hi, there! " 
 He did not expect the hail to be answered or even 
 noticed. Therefore, he was pleasantly disap 
 pointed when the figure rolled over, raised itself 
 on one elbow, looked at him in a dazed sort of 
 way and replied cheerfully but faintly, " Hello! " 
 
 Seth stopped short, put a hand to the breast of 
 his blue flannel shirt, and breathed a mighty sigh 
 of relief. 
 
 "Gosh!" he exclaimed with fervor. Then, 
 changing his labored gallop for a walk, he con 
 tinued his progress toward the man, who, as if 
 his momentary curiosity was satisfied, lay down 
 again. He did not rise when the lightkeeper 
 reached his side, but remained quiet, looking up 
 from a pair of gray eyes and smiling slightly with 
 lips that were blue. He was a stranger to Atkins, 
 a young fellow, rather good looking, dressed in 
 blue serge trousers, negligee shirt, blue socks, and 
 without shoes or hat. His garments were soaked, 
 and the salt water dripped from his shoulders to 
 the sand. The lightkeeper stared at him, and he 
 returned the stare. 
 
 " Gosh! " repeated Seth, after an instant of si 
 lence. " Jiminy crimps! I feel better." 
 
 12
 
 *"Gosh! repeated Seth. . . . Jiminy crimps! I feel 
 
 better. "
 
 MR. JOHN BROWN 
 
 The stranger s smile broadened. " Glad to hear 
 it, I m sure," he said, slowly. " So do I, though 
 there s still room for improvement. What was 
 your particular ailment? Mine seems to have been 
 water on the brain." 
 
 He sat up and shakily ran a hand through his 
 wet hair as he spoke. Atkins, his surprise doubled 
 by this extraordinary behavior, could think of noth 
 ing to say. 
 
 " Good morning," continued the young man, 
 as if the meeting had been the most casual and 
 ordinary possible; " I think you said a moment ago 
 that you were feeling better. No relapse, I trust." 
 
 "Relapse? What in the world? Are you 
 crazy? I ain t sick." 
 
 That s good. I must have misunderstood you. 
 Pleasant morning, isn t it? " 
 
 "Pleasant morn Why, say! I I what 
 in time are you doin , layin there all soaked 
 through ? You scared me pretty nigh to death. I 
 thought you was drowned, sure and sartin." 
 
 " Did you? Well, to be honest, so did I, for 
 a while. In fact, I m not absolutely sure that I m 
 not, even yet. You ll excuse me if I lie down 
 again, won t you? I never tried a seaweed pillow 
 before, but it isn t so bad." 
 
 13
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 He again stretched himself on the sand. Seth 
 shook his head. 
 
 " Well, if this don t beat me! " he exclaimed. 
 You re the coolest critter that ever I I " 
 
 " I am cool," admitted the young man, with a 
 slight shiver. " This stretch of ocean here isn t 
 exactly a Turkish bath. I ve been swimming 
 since well, an hour or two ago, and I am just a 
 little chilled." 
 
 He shivered again. 
 
 " Swimmin ! An hour or two? Where on 
 earth did you come from? " 
 
 " Oh, I fell overboard from a steamer off here 
 somewhere. I " 
 
 Another and emphatic shiver caused him to 
 pause. The lightkeeper awoke to the realities of 
 the situation. 
 
 " Good land of love ! " he exclaimed. " What 
 am I thinkin of? Seein you this way, and you 
 talkin so kind of every-day and funny drove my 
 senses clean out, I guess. Get right up off that 
 wet place this minute. Come up to the house, 
 quick! Can you walk?" 
 
 " Don t know. I am willing to try. Would 
 you mind giving me a lift? " 
 
 Seth didn t mind, which was fortunate, as his 
 
 14
 
 MR. JOHN BROWN 
 
 new acquaintance couldn t have risen unaided. His 
 knees shook under him when he stood erect, and 
 he leaned heavily on the lightkeeper s arm. 
 
 " Steady now," counselled Atkins; " no hurry. 
 Take it easy. If you ve navigated water all alone 
 for hours, I cal late between us we can manage to 
 make a five-minute cruise on dry land. . . . Even 
 if the course we steer would make an eel lame 
 tryin to follow it," he added, as the castaway stag 
 gered and reeled up the beach. " Now don t try 
 to talk. Let your tongue rest and give your feet 
 a chance." 
 
 The climbing of the steep bluff was a struggle, 
 but they accomplished it, and at length the stranger 
 was seated in a chair in the kitchen. 
 
 " Now, the fust thing," observed Seth, " is to 
 get them wet clothes off you. Usually I d have a 
 good fire here, but that miserable Ezry has that 
 is, my assistant s left me, and I have to go it alone, 
 as you might say. So we ll get you to bed and 
 . . . No, you can t undress yourself, neither. 
 Set still, and I ll have you peeled in a jiffy." 
 
 His guest was making feeble efforts to remove 
 his socks. Atkins pushed him back into the chair 
 and stripped the blue and dripping rags from feet 
 which were almost as blue from cold. The cast- 
 
 15
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 away attempted a weak resistance, but gave it up 
 and said, with a whimsical smile: 
 
 " I m mightily obliged to you. I never realized 
 before that a valet was such a blessing. Most of 
 mine have been confounded nuisances." 
 
 " Hey? " queried Seth, looking up. 
 
 " Nothing. Pardon me for comparing you with 
 a valet." 
 
 " Land sakes ! / don t care what you call me. 
 I was out of my head once myself typhoid fever 
 twas and they say the things I called the doctor 
 was somethin scandalous. You ain t responsible. 
 You re beat out, and your brain s weak, like the 
 rest of you. Now hold on till I get you a night 
 gown." 
 
 He started for the bedroom. The young man 
 seemed a bit troubled. 
 
 " Just a minute," he observed. " Don t you 
 think I had better move to a less conspicuous apart 
 ment? The door is open, and if any of your neigh 
 bors should happen by any ladies, for instance, 
 j " 
 
 "Ladies!" Mr. Atkins regarded him frown- 
 ingly. " In the fust place, there ain t a neighbor 
 nigher n four miles; and, in the next, I d have you 
 understand no women come to this house. If you 
 
 16
 
 MR. JOHN BROWN 
 
 knew me better, young feller, you d know that. 
 Set where you be." 
 
 The nightshirt was one of the lightkeeper s own, 
 and, although Seth was a good-sized man, it fitted 
 the castaway almost too tightly for comfort. 
 However, it was dry and warm and, by leaving a 
 button or two unfastened at the neck, answered the 
 purpose well enough. The stranger was piloted 
 to the bedroom, assisted into the depths of a feath 
 er bed, and covered with several layers of blankets 
 and patchwork quilts. 
 
 There ! " observed Seth, contentedly, " now 
 you go to sleep. If you get to sweatin , so much 
 the better. Twill get some of that cold water 
 out of you. So long ! " 
 
 He departed, closing the door after him. Then 
 he built a fire in the range, got breakfast, ate it, 
 washed the dishes and continued his forenoon s 
 work. Not a sound from the bedroom. Evidently 
 the strange arrival had taken the advice concern 
 ing going to sleep. But all the time he was wash 
 ing dishes, nibbing brass work or sweeping, Mr. 
 Atkins s mind was busy with the puzzle which fate 
 had handed him. Occasionally he chuckled, and 
 often he shook his head. He could make nothing 
 out of it. One thing only was certain he had
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 never before met a human being exactly like this 
 specimen. 
 
 It was half past twelve before there were 
 signs of life in the bedroom. Seth was setting the 
 table for dinner, when the door of the room opened 
 a little way, and a voice said: 
 
 " I say, are you there? " 
 
 " I be. What do you want? " 
 
 " Would you mind telling me what you ve done 
 with my clothes? " 
 
 " Not a bit. I ve got em out on the line, and 
 they ain t dry yet. If you ll look on the chair by 
 the sou west window you ll find a rig-out of mine. 
 I m afraid twill fit you too quick you re such an 
 elephant but I ll risk it if you will." 
 
 Apparently the stranger was willing to risk it, 
 for in a few moments he appeared, dressed in the 
 Atkins Sunday suit of blue cloth, and with Seth s 
 pet carpet slippers on his feet. 
 
 "Hello!" was the lightkeeper s greeting. 
 " How you feelin ? better ? " 
 
 Tip top, thank you. Where do you wash, 
 when it s necessary?" 
 
 " Basin right there in the sink. Soap in the 
 becket over top of it. Roller towel on the closet 
 door. Ain t you had water enough for a spell? " 
 
 18
 
 MR. JOHN BROWN 
 
 " Not fresh water, thank you. I m caked with 
 salt from head to foot." 
 
 u Does make a feller feel like a split herrin , if 
 he ain t used to it. Think you can eat anything? " 
 
 "Can I?" The response was enthusiastic. 
 1 You watch me ! My last meal was yesterday 
 noon." 
 
 * Yesterday noon! Didn t you eat no supper? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Well, I well, to be frank, because I hadn t 
 the price. It took my last cent to pay my fare on 
 that blessed steamer." 
 
 " Great land of love ! What time was it when 
 you fell overboard?" 
 
 " Oh, I don t know. Two o clock, perhaps." 
 
 Two o clock ! What was you doin up at two 
 o clock? Why wasn t you in your stateroom 
 asleep?" 
 
 u I hadn t any stateroom. Staterooms cost 
 money." 
 
 " My soul ! And you swum three hours on an 
 empty stomach ? " 
 
 " Not altogether. Part of it on my back. But, 
 if you ll excuse familiarity on short acquaintance, 
 those things you re cooking smell good to me." 
 
 19
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 Them s clam fritters, and, if you ll excuse my 
 sayin so that shouldn t, they are good. Set down 
 and fill up." 
 
 The visitor ate nine of the fritters, a slice of 
 dried-apple pie, and drank two cups of coffee. Seth, 
 between intervals of frying and eating, watched 
 him with tremendous curiosity and as much patience 
 as he could muster. When the pie was finished 
 he asked the first of the questions with which he 
 had been bursting all the forenoon. 
 
 " Tell me," he said, " how d you come to fall 
 overboard? " 
 
 " I m not very certain just how it happened. I 
 remember leaning over the rail and watching 
 the waves. Then I was very dizzy all at 
 once. The next thing I knew I was in the 
 water." 
 
 " Dizzy, hey? Seasick, may be." 
 
 " I guess not. I m a pretty good sailor. I m 
 inclined to think the cause was that empty stomach 
 you mentioned." 
 
 " Um-hm. You didn t have no supper. Still, 
 you ate the noon afore." 
 
 " Not much. Only a sandwich." 
 
 " A sandwich ! What did you have for break 
 fast?" 
 
 20
 
 MR. JOHN BROWN 
 
 " Well, the fact is, I overslept and decided to 
 omit the breakfast." 
 
 "Gosh! no wonder you got dizzy. If I went 
 without meals for a whole day I cal late I d be 
 worse than dizzy. What did you do when you 
 found yourself in the water? " 
 
 " Yelled at first, but no one heard me. Then I 
 saw some lights off in this direction and started to 
 swim for them. I made the shore finally, but I 
 was so used up that I don t remember anything 
 after the landing. Think I took a nap." 
 
 " I presume likely. Wonder twasn t your ever- 
 lastin nap ! Tut ! tut ! tut ! Think of it ! " 
 
 " I don t want to, thank you. It isn t pleasant 
 enough to think of. I m here and by the way, 
 where is here ? " 
 
 This is Eastboro township Eastboro, Cape 
 Cod. Them lights out there are Eastboro Twin- 
 Lights. I m the keeper of em. My name s At 
 kins, Seth Atkins." 
 
 " Delighted to meet you, Mr. Atkins. And 
 tremendously obliged to you, besides." 
 
 " You needn t be. I ain t done nothin . Let 
 me see, you said your name was " 
 
 "Did I?" The young man seemed startled, 
 almost alarmed. " When? " 
 3 21
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 Seth was embarrassed, but not much. Well," 
 he admitted, " I don t know s you did say it, come 
 to think of it. What is your name?" 
 
 "My name?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Oh, why my name is Brown er John 
 Brown. Not the gentleman who was hanged, of 
 course; distant relative, that s all." 
 
 "Hum! John Brown, hey? What steamer 
 did you fall off of?" 
 
 " Why why I can t seem to remember. 
 That s odd, isn t it?" 
 
 " Yes, I should say twas. Where was she 
 bound?" 
 
 "Bound? Oh, you mean where was she go- 
 ing?" 
 
 " Sartin." 
 
 " I think I think she was going to to. . . . 
 Humph! how strange this is! " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Why, that I should forget all these things." 
 
 The lightkeeper regarded his guest with sus 
 picion. 
 
 " Yaas," he drawled slowly, " when you call it 
 strange you ain t exaggeratin none wuth mention- 
 in . I s pose," he added, after a moment, during 
 
 22
 
 MR. JOHN BROWN 
 
 which he stared intently at Mr. Brown, who smiled 
 in polite acknowledgment of the stare; " I s pose 
 likely you couldn t possibly remember what port 
 you hailed from? " 
 
 " I suppose not," was the calm reply. 
 
 Seth rose from the table. 
 
 " Well," he observed, " I ve been up all night, 
 too, and it s past my bedtime. As I told you, my 
 assistant s left all of a sudden and I m alone in 
 charge of gov ment property. I ought to turn in, 
 but " he hesitated. 
 
 John Brown also rose. 
 
 " Mr. Atkins," he said, " my memory seems to 
 be pretty bad, but I haven t forgotten everything. 
 For instance," his smile disappeared, and his tone 
 became earnest, " I can remember perfectly well 
 that I m not a crook, that I haven t done anything 
 to be ashamed of as I see it that I m very grate 
 ful to you, and that I don t steal. If you care 
 to believe that and, also, that, being neither a sneak 
 or a thief, I sha n t clear out with the spoons while 
 you re asleep, you might well, you might risk 
 turning in." 
 
 The lightkeeper did not answer immediate 
 ly. The pair looked each other straight in the 
 eye. 
 
 23
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 Then Seth yawned and turned toward the bed 
 room. 
 
 " I ll risk it," he said, curtly. " If I ain t awake 
 by six o clock I wish you d call me. You ll find 
 some spare clay pipes and tobacco on the mantel 
 piece by the clock. So long." 
 
 He entered the bedroom and closed the door. 
 Mr. Brown stepped over to the mantel and helped 
 himself to a pipe.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 MR. BROWN PUTS IN AN APPLICATION 
 
 AT half past five the lightkeeper opened the 
 bedroom door and peeped out. The 
 kitchen was empty. There was no sign 
 of Mr. Brown. It took Seth just four minutes 
 to climb into the garments he had discarded and 
 reach the open air. His guest was seated on the 
 bench beside the house, one of the clay pipes in 
 his hand. He was looking out to sea. He spoke 
 first: 
 
 " Hello ! " he said. " You re up ahead of time, 
 aren t you? It isn t six yet." 
 
 Atkins grinned. " No," he answered, " tain t! 
 not quite. But sence Ezry cleared out I ve been a 
 kind of human alarm clock, as you might say. 
 Feelin all right, are you?" 
 
 Yes, thank you. I say," holding up the pipe 
 and regarding it respectfully, " is this tobacco of 
 yours furnished by the government?" 
 
 25
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " No. Some I bought myself last time I was 
 over to the Center. Why, what s the matter with 
 it? Ain t it good? " 
 
 " Perhaps so." 
 
 Then what made you ask? Ain t it strong 
 enough? " 
 
 " Strong enough ! You re disposed to be sar 
 castic. It s stronger than I am. What do they 
 flavor it with tar?" 
 
 " Say, let s see that plug. That ain t srnokin 
 tobacco." 
 
 " What is it, then asphalt? " 
 
 " Why, haw ! haw ! That s a piece of Ezry s 
 chewin . Some he left when he went away. It s 
 1 Honest Friend. Tis flavored up consider ble. 
 And you tried to smoke it ! Ho ! ho ! " 
 
 The young man joined in the laugh. 
 That explains why it bubbled so," he said. 
 " I used twenty-two matches, by actual count, and 
 then gave it up. Bah ! " he smacked his lips dis 
 gustedly and made a face : " Honest Friend 
 is that the name of it? Meaning that it ll stick 
 to you through life, I presume. Water has no 
 effect on the taste; I ve tried it." 
 
 " Maybe some supper might help. I ll wash 
 the dinner dishes and start gettin it. All there 
 
 26
 
 AN APPLICATION 
 
 seems to be to this job of mine just now is washin 
 dishes. And how I hate it! " 
 
 He reentered the kitchen. Then he uttered an 
 exclamation : 
 
 Why, what s become of the dishes?" he de 
 manded. " I left em here on the table." 
 
 Brown arose from the bench and sauntered to 
 the door. 
 
 " I washed them," he said. " I judged that you 
 would have to if I didn t, and it seemed the least 
 I could do, everything considered." 
 
 " Sho! You washed the dishes, hey? Where d 
 you put em? " 
 
 " In the closet there. That s where they be 
 long, isn t it?" 
 
 Seth went to the closet, took a plate from the 
 pile and inspected it. 
 
 "Urn!" he grunted, turning the plate over, 
 that ain t such a bad job. Not so all-fired 
 bad, for a green hand. What did you wash em 
 with?" 
 
 " A cloth I found hanging by the sink." 
 
 " I see. Yes, yes. And you wiped em on 
 what?" 
 
 Well, to tell you the truth, I didn t see any 
 towels in sight, except that one on the door; and, 
 
 27
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 for various reasons, I judged that wasn t a dish 
 towel." 
 
 " Good judgment. Tisn t. Go on." 
 
 " So I hunted around, and in the closet in the 
 parlor, or living room, or whatever you call it, I 
 found a whole stack of things that looked like 
 towels; so I used one of those." 
 
 " Is this it?" Seth picked up a damp and be 
 draggled cloth from the table. 
 
 " That s it. I should have hung it up some 
 where, I suppose. I ll lose my job if I don t look 
 out." 
 
 " Um ! Well, I m much obliged to you, 
 only " 
 
 u Only?" 
 
 " Only you washed them dishes with the sink 
 cloth and wiped em with a piller case." 
 
 The volunteer dishwasher s mouth opened. 
 
 "Wo/ "he gasped. 
 
 " Ya-as." 
 
 " A pillow case ! Well, by George ! " 
 
 " Um-hm. I jedge you ain t washed many 
 dishes in your lifetime." 
 
 " Not so very many. No." 
 
 They looked at each other and burst into a roar 
 of laughter. Brown was the first to recover. 
 
 28
 
 AN APPLICATION 
 
 " Well," he observed, " I guess it s up to me. 
 If you ll kindly put me next to a genuine cloth, or 
 sponge, or whatever is the proper caper for dish 
 washing, I ll undertake to do them over again. 
 And, for heaven s sake, lock up the pillow cases." 
 
 Seth protested, declaring that the dishes need 
 not be rewashed that very minute, and that when he 
 got a chance he would do them himself. But the 
 young man was firm, and, at last, the lightkeeper 
 yielded. 
 
 " It s real kind of you," he declared, " and bein 
 as I ve consider ble to do, I don t know but I ll let 
 you. Here s a couple of dishcloths, and there s the 
 towels. I m goin out to see to the lights, and I ll 
 be back pretty soon and get supper." 
 
 Later in the evening, after supper, the house 
 work done, they sat again on the bench beside the 
 door, each with a pipe, filled, this time, with gen 
 uine smoking tobacco. Before and below them was 
 the quiet sea, rolling lazily under the stars. Over 
 head the big lanterns in the towers thrust their 
 parallel lances of light afar into the darkness. The 
 only sounds were the low wash of the surf and the 
 hum of the eager mosquitoes. Brown was silent, 
 alternately puffing at the pipe and slapping at the 
 insects, which latter, apparently finding his skin eas- 
 
 29
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 ier to puncture than that of the tanned and leath 
 ery Atkins, were making the most of their oppor 
 tunity. 
 
 Seth, whose curiosity had been checked but not 
 smothered by his companion s evident desire to say 
 nothing concerning himself, was busy thinking of 
 various guileful schemes with which to entrap the 
 castaway into the disclosure of his identity. Hav 
 ing prepared his bait, he proceeded to get over a 
 line. 
 
 " Mr. Brown," he said, " I ain t mentioned it 
 to you afore, count of your needin rest and grub 
 and all after your fallin overboard last night. 
 But tomorrer you ll be feelin fustrate again, and I 
 cal late you ll be wantin to get word to your folks. 
 Now we can telephone to the Eastboro depot, 
 where there s a telegraph, and the depot master ll 
 send a dispatch to your people, lettin em know 
 you re all safe and sound. If you ll just give me 
 the address and what you want to say, I ll tend to 
 it myself. The depot master s a good friend of 
 mine, and he ll risk sending the dispatch collect 
 if I tell him to." 
 
 Thank you," replied Brown, shortly. 
 
 " Oh, don t mention it. Now who ll I send it 
 to?" 
 
 30
 
 AN APPLICATION 
 
 " You needn t send it. I couldn t think of put 
 ting you to further trouble." 
 
 Trouble ! Tain t no trouble to telephone. 
 Land sakes, I do it four or five times a day. Now 
 who ll I send it to ? " 
 
 " You needn t send it." 
 
 " Oh, well, of course, if you d ruther send it 
 yourself " 
 
 " I sha n t send it. It really isn t worth while 
 phoning or telegraphing either. I didn t drown, 
 and I m very comfortable, thank you or should 
 be if it weren t for these mosquitoes." 
 
 " Comf table ! Yes, you re comf table, but how 
 about your folks? Won t they learn, soon s that 
 steamer gets into into Portland or or New 
 York or Boston or . . . Hey?" 
 
 " I didn t speak." 
 
 Seth swallowed hard and continued. " Well, 
 wherever she was bound," he snapped. " Won t 
 they learn that you sot sail in her and never got 
 there? Then they ll know that you must have fell 
 overboard." 
 
 John Brown drew a mouthful of smoke through 
 the stem of the pipe and blew it spitefully among 
 the mosquitoes. 
 
 11 1 don t see how they ll learn it," he replied.
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " Why, the steamer folks ll wire em right 
 off." 
 
 " They ll have to find them first." 
 
 " That ll be easy enough. There ll be your 
 name, John Brown/ of such and such a place, 
 written right on the purser s book, won t it." 
 
 " No," drawled Mr. Brown, " it won t." 
 
 The lightkeeper felt very much as if this particu 
 lar road to the truth had ended suddenly in a blind 
 alley. He pulled viciously at his chin whiskers. 
 His companion shifted his position on the bench. 
 Silence fell again, as much silence as the mosquitoes 
 would permit. 
 
 Suddenly Brown seemed to reach a determina 
 tion. 
 
 " Atkins," he said briskly, and with considerable 
 bitterness in his tone, " don t you worry about my 
 people. They don t know where I am, and well, 
 some of them, at least, don t care. Maybe I m a 
 rolling stone at any rate, I haven t gathered any 
 moss, any financial moss. I m broke. I haven t 
 any friends, any that I wish to remember; I haven t 
 any job. I am what you might call down and out. 
 If I had drowned when I fell overboard last night, 
 it might have been a good thing or it might not. 
 We won t argue the question, because just now I m 
 
 32
 
 AN APPLICATION 
 
 ready to take either side. But let s talk about your 
 self. You re lightkeeper here?" 
 
 " I be, yes." 
 
 " And these particular lights seem to be a good 
 way from everywhere and everybody." 
 
 " Five mile from Eastboro Center, sixteen from 
 Denboro, and two from the nighest life savin 
 station. Why?" 
 
 " Oh, just for instance. No neighbors, you 
 said?" 
 
 " Nary one." 
 
 " I noticed a bungalow just across the brook 
 here. It seems to be shut up. Who owns it?" 
 
 " Bunga which? Oh, that cottage over on 
 t other side the crick? That b longs to a couple of 
 paintin fellers from up Boston way. Not house 
 painters, you understand, but fellers that put in 
 their time paintin pictures of the water and the 
 beach and the like of that. Seems a pretty silly job 
 for grown-up men, but they re rel pleasant and 
 folksy. Don t put on no airs nor nothin. They re 
 most gen rally here every June and July and Au 
 gust, but I understand they ain t comin this year, 
 so the cottage ll be shut up. I ll miss em, kind of. 
 One of em s name is Graham and t other s Hamil 
 ton," 
 
 33
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " I see. Many visitors to the lights? " 
 
 " Not many. Once in a while a picnic comes 
 over in a livery four-seater, but not often. The 
 same gang never comes twice. Road s too bad, 
 and they complain like fury about the moskeeters." 
 
 " Do they? How peevish! Atkins, you re not 
 married? " 
 
 It was an innocent question, but it had an aston 
 ishing effect. The lightkeeper bounced on the 
 bench as if someone had kicked it violently from 
 beneath. 
 
 " What? " he quavered shrilly. " Wha what s 
 that?" 
 
 Brown was surprised. " I asked if you were 
 married, that s all," he said. " I can t see 
 
 " Stop ! " Seth s voice shook, and he bent down 
 to glare through the darkness at his companion s 
 face. " Stop! " he ordered. " You asked me if 
 I was married?" 
 
 "Yes. Why shouldn t I?" 
 
 "Why shouldn t you? See here, young feller, 
 you you what made you ask that? " 
 
 "What made me?" 
 
 " Stop sayin my words after me. Are you a 
 man or a poll-parrot? Can t you understand plain 
 United States language? What made you? Or 
 
 34
 
 AN APPLICATION 
 
 who made you? Who told you to ask me that 
 question? " 
 
 He pounded the bench with his fist. The pair 
 stared at each other for a moment; then Brown 
 leaned back and began to whistle. Seth seized him 
 by the shoulders. 
 
 " Quit that foolishness, d you hear? " he snarled. 
 " Quit it, and answer me ! " 
 
 The answer was prefaced by a pitying shake of 
 the head. 
 
 " It s the mosquitoes," observed the young 
 man, musingly. " They get through and punc 
 ture the brain after a time, I presume. Fix not 
 surprised exactly, but," with a sigh, " I m very 
 sorry." 
 
 What are you talkin about," demanded At 
 kins. " Be you crazy? " 
 
 "No-o. 7 mnot." 
 
 You re not ! Do you mean that I am? " 
 
 Well," slowly, " I m not an expert in such 
 cases, but when a perfectly simple, commonplace 
 question sets a chap to pounding and screaming and 
 offering violence, then well, it s either insanity or 
 an attempt at insult, one or the other. I ve given 
 you the benefit of the doubt." 
 
 He scratched a match on his heel and relit 
 35
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 his pipe. The lightkeeper still stared, suspicious 
 and puzzled. Then he drew a long breath. 
 
 " I I didn t mean to insult you," he stam 
 mered. 
 
 " Glad to hear it, I m sure. If I were you, how 
 ever, I should see a doctor for the other trouble." 
 
 " And I ain t crazy, neither. I beg your pardon 
 for hollerin and grabbin hold of you." 
 
 " Granted." 
 
 " Thank ye. Now," hesitatingly, u would you 
 mind tellin me why you asked me if I was mar 
 ried?" 
 
 u Not in the least. I asked merely because it 
 occurred to me that you might be. Of course, I 
 had seen nothing of your wife, but it was barely 
 possible that she was away on a visit, or some 
 where. There is no regulation forbidding light- 
 keepers marrying at least, I never heard of any 
 and so I asked; that s all." 
 
 Seth nodded. "I see," he said, slowly; "yes, 
 yes, I see. So you didn t have no special reason. * 
 
 " I did not. Of course, if I had realized that 
 you were subject to er fits, I should have been 
 more careful." 
 
 " Hum ! . . . Well, I I beg your pardon 
 again. I I am kind of touchy on some p ints. 
 
 36
 
 Didn t I tell you no women came here ? Married ! 
 A wife! Do I look like a dum fool? " 
 
 " Not now." 
 
 "Well, then! And I ve apologized for bein 
 one a few minutes ago, ain t I." 
 
 Yes, you have. No grudge on my part, I as 
 sure you. Let s forget it and talk of something 
 else." 
 
 They did, but the dialogue was rather jerky. 
 Brown was thinking, and Atkins seemed moody 
 and disinclined to talk. After a time he announced 
 that it was getting late and he cal lated he would 
 go up to the light room. " You d better turn in," 
 he added, rising. 
 
 Just a minute," said the young man. " Wait 
 just a minute. Atkins, suppose I asked you another 
 question would you become violent at once? or 
 merely by degrees? " 
 
 Seth frowned. The suspicious look returned to 
 his face. 
 
 " Humph! " he grunted. " Depended on what 
 you asked me, maybe." 
 
 Yes. Well, this one is harmless at least, I 
 hope it is. I thought the other was, also, but 
 I ... There ! there ! be calm. Sit down again 
 and listen. This question is nothing like that. It s 
 
 * 37
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 about that assistant of yours, the chap who left a 
 day or two before I drifted in. What were his 
 duties? What did he have to do when he was 
 here?" 
 
 Wa-al," drawled Seth with sarcasm, resuming 
 his seat on the bench ; u he was supposed to do con- 
 sider ble many things. Stand watch and watch 
 with me, and scrub brass and clean up around, and 
 sweep and wash dishes and and well, make 
 himself gen rally useful. Them was the duties he 
 was supposed to have. What he done was dif- 
 f rent. Pesky loafer! Why?" 
 
 4 That s what I m going to tell you. Have they 
 appointed his successor yet? Have you got any 
 one to take his place? " 
 
 14 No. Fact is, I d ought to have telegraphed 
 right off to the Board, but I ain t. I was so glad 
 to see the last of him that I kept puttin it off. I ll 
 do it tomorrer." 
 
 44 Perhaps you won t need to." 
 
 44 Course I ll need to! Why not? Got to have 
 somebody to help. That s rules and regulations; 
 and, besides, I can t keep awake day and night, too. 
 What makes you think I won t need to? " 
 
 The young man knocked the ashes from his pipe. 
 Rising, he laid a hand on his companion s shoulder. 
 
 38
 
 AN APPLICATION 
 
 " Because you ve got an assistant right here on 
 the premises," he said. " Delivered by the Atlan 
 tic express right at your door. Far be it from me 
 to toot my horn, Mr. Atkins, or to proclaim my 
 merits from the housetops. But, speaking as one 
 discerning person to another, when it comes to an 
 Ai, first chop lightkeeper s assistant, I ask: 
 What s the matter with yours truly, John 
 Brown? " 
 
 Seth s reply was not in words. The hand hold 
 ing his pipe fell limp upon his lap, and he stared 
 at the speaker. The latter, entirely unabashed, 
 waved an airy gesture, and continued. 
 
 " I repeat," he said, " * What s the matter with 
 John Brown ? And echo answers, * He s all 
 right ! I am a candidate for the position of assist 
 ant keeper at Eastboro Twin-Lights." 
 
 "You?" 
 
 " Me." 
 
 " But but aw, go on ! You re foolin ." 
 
 " Not a fool. I mean it. I am here. I m green, 
 but in the sunshine of your experience I agree 
 to ripen rapidly. I can wash dishes you ve 
 seen me. I believe I could scrub brass and 
 sweep." 
 
 You wantin to be assistant at a place like this 1 
 
 39
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 You! an edicated, able young chap, that s been used 
 to valets and servants and " 
 
 "Why do you say that? How do you know 
 I ve been used to those things? " 
 
 1 Cause, as I hinted to you a spell ago, I ain t 
 altogether a dum fool. I can put two and two to 
 gether 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 1 
 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 ig 
 noble 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 
 40
 
 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," impa 
 tiently, " 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 agi 
 tated. 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 
 
 41
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 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 human 
 ity 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 ta 
 ble, when Brown glanced up from his 
 plate, he several times caught the lightkeeper look 
 ing intently at him with the distrustful, half-sus 
 picious 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 aston 
 ishment. 
 
 " 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? " 
 
 4*
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " 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 curi 
 ous. 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 sud 
 denly 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? " 
 
 44
 
 " Who said I d done anything? It s a lie. " 
 
 [Page 44.]
 
 THE COMING OF JOB 
 
 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 compan 
 ion, in apparent soliloquy; "there are no mosqui 
 toes at present. It must be the other thing, of 
 course. But so early in the morning, and so vio 
 lent. 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 car- 
 late you re hintin that I m drunk. I ain t." 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed. And I ain t out of my head 
 
 45
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 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 be 
 ing particularly interested I m listening. Pro 
 ceed." 
 
 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." 
 
 u 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. 
 
 " Well," he said, slowly, " I don t understand 
 it at all, but never mind. Whatever happens, 
 we ve got to understand each other. Mind 
 I don t say the joS s yours, even if we do; 
 but we can t even think of it unless we understand 
 each other plain. To begin with, I want to tell 
 you that I ain t done nothin that s crooked, nor 
 wicked, nor nothin but what I think is right 
 
 46
 
 THE COMING OF JOB 
 
 and what I d do over again. Do you believe 
 that?" 
 
 " Certainly. As I told you, I m not interested, 
 but I ll believe it with pleasure if you wish me to." 
 
 " I don t wish nothin . You ve got to believe it. 
 And whether you stay here ten minutes or ten 
 years you ve got to mind your own business. I 
 won t have any hints or questions about me from 
 you nor nobody else. Mind your own business, 
 that s the motto of Eastboro Twin-Lights, while 
 I m boss of em. If you don t like it well, the 
 village is only five mile off, and I ll p int out the 
 road to you." 
 
 He delivered this ultimatum with extraordinary 
 energy. Then he reached for his overturned chair, 
 set it on its legs, and threw himself into it. 
 " Well," he demanded, after a moment; " what do 
 you say to that? " 
 
 " Hurrah! " replied Mr. Brown cheerfully. 
 
 " Hurrah? For the land sakes! . . . Say, 
 can t you talk sensible, if you try real hard and set 
 your mind to it? What is there to hurrah about? " 
 
 " Everything. The whole situation. Atkins," 
 Brown leaned forward now and spoke with earn 
 estness, " I like your motto. It suits me. Mind 
 your own business suits me down to the ground. 
 
 47
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 It proves that you and I were made to work to 
 gether in a place just like this." 
 " Does, hey? I want to know! " 
 You do know. Why, just think : each of us 
 has pleaded * not guilty. We ve done nothing 
 we re entirely innocent and we want to forget it. 
 I agree not to ask you how old you are, nor why 
 you wear your brand of whiskers, nor how you like 
 them, nor nor anything. I agree not to ask ques 
 tions at all." 
 
 " Humph ! but you asked some last night." 
 " Purely by accident. You didn t answer them. 
 You asked me some, also, if you will remember, 
 and I didn t answer them, either. Good ! We for 
 get everything and agree not to do it again." 
 " Ugh ! I tell you I ain t done nothin ." 
 " I know. Neither have I. Let the dead past 
 be its own undertaker, so far as we are concerned. 
 I m honest, Atkins, and tolerably straight. I be 
 lieve you are; I really do. But we don t care to 
 talk about ourselves, that s all. And, fortunately, 
 kind Providence has brought us together in a place 
 where there s no one else to talk. I like you, I 
 credit you with good taste ; therefore, you must like 
 me." 
 
 "Hey? Ho, ho!" Seth laughed, in spite of 
 48
 
 THE COMING OF JOB 
 
 himself. " Young man," he observed, " you ain t 
 cultivated your modesty under glass, have you? " 
 
 Brown smiled. " Joking aside," he said, " I 
 don t see why I shouldn t, in time, make an ideal 
 assistant lightkeeper. Give me a trial, at any rate. 
 I need an employer; you need a helper. Here we 
 both are. Come; it is a bargain, isn t it? Any 
 brass to be scrubbed boss? " 
 
 Of course, had Eastboro Twin-Lights been an. 
 important station, the possibility of John Brown s 
 remaining there would have been nonexistent. If 
 it had been winter, or even early spring or fall, a 
 regular assistant would have been appointed at 
 once, and the castaway given his walking papers. 
 If Seth Atkins had not been Seth Atkins, particu 
 lar friend of the district superintendent, matters 
 might have been different. But the Eastboro lights 
 were unimportant, merely a half-way mark between 
 Orham on the one hand and the powerful Seaboard 
 Heights beacon on the other. It was the beginning 
 of summer, when wrecks almost never occurred. 
 And the superintendent liked Seth, and Seth liked 
 him. So, although Mr. Atkins still scoffed at his 
 guest s becoming a permanent fixture at the lights, 
 and merely consented, after more parley, to see if 
 
 49
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 he couldn t arrange for him to " hang around and 
 help a spell until somebody else was sent," the con 
 versation with the superintendent over the long dis 
 tance phone resulted more favorably for Brown 
 than that nonchalant young gentleman had a rea 
 sonable right to expect. 
 
 The Lord knows who I can send you now, At 
 kins ! " said the superintendent. " I can t think of a 
 man anywhere that can be spared. If you can get 
 on for a day or two longer, I ll try to get a helper 
 down ! but where he s coming from I don t see." 
 
 Then Seth sprung the news that he had a " sort 
 of helper " already. " He s a likely young chap 
 enough," admitted the lightkeeper, whispering the 
 words into the transmitter, in order that the " likely 
 young chap" might not hear; "but he s purty 
 green yet. He wants the reg lar job and, give me 
 time enough, I cal late I can break him in. Yes, 
 I m pretty sure I can. And it s the off season, so 
 there really ain t no danger. In a month he d be 
 doin fust-rate." 
 
 "Who is he? W here did he come from?" 
 asked the superintendent. 
 
 "Name s Brown. He come from from off here 
 a ways," was the strictly truthful answer. " He 
 used to be on a steamboat." 
 
 50
 
 THE COMING OF JOB 
 
 " All right. If you ll take a share of the re 
 sponsibility, I ll take the rest. And, as soon as I 
 can, I ll send you a regular man." 
 
 " I can t pay you no steady wages," Seth ex 
 plained to his new helper. " Salaries come from 
 the gov ment, and, until they say so, I ain t got 
 no right to do it. And I can t let you monkey with 
 the lights, except to clean up around and such. 
 If you want to stay a spell, until an assistant s ap- 
 p inted, I ll undertake to be responsible for your 
 keep. And if you need some new shoes or stockin s 
 or a cap, or the like of that, I ll see you get em. 
 Further n that I can t go yet. It s a pretty poor 
 job for a fellow like you, and if / was you I 
 wouldn t take it." 
 
 " Oh, yes, you would," replied Brown, with con 
 viction. " If you were I, you would take it with 
 bells on. Others may yearn for the strenuous life, 
 but not your humble servant. As for me, I stay 
 here and * clean up around. 
 
 And stay he did, performing the cleaning up and 
 other duties with unexpected success and zeal. At 
 kins, for the first day or two, watched him intently, 
 being still a trifle suspicious and fearful of his 
 " substitute assistant." But as time passed and the 
 latter asked no more questions, seemed not in th*
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 least curious concerning his superior, and remained 
 the same cool, easy-going, cheerful individual 
 whom Seth had found asleep on the beach, the 
 lightkeeper s suspicions were ended. It was true 
 that Brown was as mysterious and secretive as ever 
 concerning his own past, but that had been a part 
 of their bargain. Atkins, who prided himself on 
 being a judge of human nature, decided that his 
 helper was a young gentleman in trouble, but that 
 the trouble, whatever it might be, involved nothing 
 criminal or dishonest. That he was a gentleman, 
 he was sure his bearing and manner proved that; 
 but he was a gentleman who did not " put on airs." 
 Not that there was any reason why he should put 
 on airs, but, so far as that was concerned, there 
 was no apparent reason for the monumental conceit 
 and condescension of some of the inflated city 
 boarders in the village. Brown was not like those 
 people at all. 
 
 Seth had taken a fancy to him at their first meet 
 ing. Now his liking steadily increased. Compan 
 ionship in a lonely spot like Eastboro Twin-Lights 
 is a test of a man s temper. Brown stood the test 
 well. If he made mistakes in the work and he 
 did make some ridiculous ones he cheerfully un 
 did them when they were pointed out to him. He 
 
 52
 
 THE COMING OF JOB 
 
 was, for the most part, good-natured and willing 
 to talk, though there were periods when he seemed 
 depressed and wandered off by himself along the 
 beach or sat by the edge of the bluff, staring out to 
 sea. The lightkeeper made no comment on this 
 trait in his character. It helped to confirm his own 
 judgment concerning the young fellow s trouble. 
 People in trouble were subject to fits of the 
 " blues," and during these fits they liked to be 
 alone. Seth knew this from his own experience. 
 There were times when he, too, sought solitude. 
 
 He trusted his helper more and more. He did 
 not, of course, permit him to take the night watch 
 in the lights, but he did trust him to the extent of 
 leaving him alone for a whole afternoon while he 
 drove the old horse, attached to the antique " open 
 wagon " both steed and vehicle a part of the gov 
 ernment property over to Eastboro to purchase 
 tobacco and newspapers at the store. On his re 
 turn he found everything as it should be, and this 
 test led him to make others, each of which was 
 successful in proving John Brown faithful over a 
 few things and, therefore, in time, to be intrusted 
 with many and more important ones. 
 
 Brown, on his part, liked Seth. He had pro 
 fessed to like him during the conversation at the 
 
 5 53
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 breakfast table which resulted in his remaining at 
 the lights, but then he was not entirely serious. He 
 was, of course, grateful for the kindness shown 
 him by the odd longshoreman and enjoyed the lat- 
 ter s society and droll remarks as he would have 
 enjoyed anything out of the ordinary and quaintly 
 amusing. But now he really liked the man. Seth 
 Atkins was a countryman, and a marked contrast to 
 any individual Brown had ever met, but he was far 
 from being a fool. He possessed a fund of dry 
 common sense, and his comments on people and 
 happenings in the world a knowledge of which 
 he derived from the newspapers and magazines ob 
 tained on his trips to Eastboro were a constant 
 delight. And, more than all, he respected his com 
 panion s desire to remain a mystery. Brown de 
 cided that Atkins was, as he had jokingly called 
 him, a man with a past. What that past might be, 
 he did not know or try to learn. " Mind your own 
 business," Seth had declared to be the motto of 
 Eastboro Twin-Lights, and that motto suited both 
 parties to the agreement. 
 
 The lightkeeper stood watch in the tower at 
 night. During most of the day he slept; but, after 
 the first week was over, and his trust in his helper 
 became more firm, he developed the habit of rising 
 
 54
 
 THE COMING OF JOB 
 
 at two in the afternoon, eating a breakfast or 
 dinner, or whatever the meal might be called 
 and wandering off along the crooked road leading 
 south and in the direction of Pounddug Slough. 
 The road, little used and grass grown, twisted and 
 turned amid the dunes until it disappeared in a dis 
 tant grove of scrub oaks and pitch pines. Each 
 afternoon except on Sundays and on the occasions 
 of his excursions to the village Atkins would rise 
 from the table, saunter to the door to look at the 
 weather, and then, without excuse or explanation, 
 start slowly down the road. For the first hundred 
 yards he sauntered, then the saunter became a brisk 
 walk, and when he reached the edge of the grove 
 he was hurrying almost at a dog trot. Sometimes 
 he carried a burden with him, a brown paper parcel 
 brought from Eastboro, a hammer, a saw, or a coil 
 of rope. Once he descended to the boathouse at 
 the foot of the bluff by the inlet and emerged bear 
 ing a big bundle of canvas, apparently an old sail; 
 this he arranged, with some difficulty, on his shoul 
 der and stumbled up the slope, past the corner of 
 the house and away toward the grove. Brown 
 watched him wonderingly. Where was he going, 
 and why? What was the mysterious destination 
 of all these tools and old junk? Where did Seth 
 
 55
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 spend his afternoons and why, when he returned, 
 did his hands and clothes smell of tar? The sub 
 stitute assistant was puzzled, but he asked no ques 
 tions. And Seth volunteered no solution of the 
 puzzle. 
 
 Yet the solution came, and in an unexpected 
 way. Seth drove to the village one afternoon and 
 returned with literature, smoking materials and an 
 announcement. The latter he made during supper. 
 
 " I tried to buy that fly paper we wanted today," 
 he observed, as a preliminary. " Couldn t get 
 none. All out." 
 
 " But will have some in very shortly, I pre 
 sume," suggested the assistant, who knew the idio 
 syncrasies of country stores. 
 
 " Oh, yes, sartin ! Expectin it every minute. 
 That store s got a consider ble sight more expec 
 tations in it than it has anything else. They re al 
 ways six months ahead of the season or behind it 
 in that store. When it s so cold that the snow birds 
 get chilblains they ll have the shelves chuck full of 
 fly paper. Now, when it s hotter than a kittle of 
 pepper tea, the bulk of their stock is ice picks and 
 mittens. Bah ! However, they re goin to send 
 the fly paper over when it comes, along with the 
 dog." 
 
 56
 
 THE COMING OF JOB 
 
 The dog?" repeated Brown in amazement. 
 Yup. That s what I was goin to tell you 
 about the dog. I ordered a dog today. Didn t 
 pay nothin for him, you understand. Henry G., 
 the storekeeper, gave him to me. The boy ll fetch 
 him down when he fetches the fly paper." 
 
 " A dog? We re you re going to keep a dog 
 here?" 
 
 " Sure thing. Why not? Got room enough to 
 keep a whole zoological menagerie if we wanted 
 to, ain t we? Besides, a dog ll be handy to have 
 around. Bill Foster, the life saver, told me that 
 somebody busted into the station henhouse one 
 night a week ago and got away with four of their 
 likeliest pullets. He cal lates twas tramps or 
 boys. We don t keep hens, but there s some stuff 
 in that boathouse I wouldn t want stole, and, bein 
 as there s no lock on the door, a dog would be a 
 sort of protection, as you might say." 
 
 " But thieves would never come way down here." 
 
 " Why not? Tain t any further away from the 
 rest of creation than the life savin station, is it? 
 Anyhow, Henry G. give the dog to me free for 
 nothin , and that s a miracle of itself. You d say 
 so, too, if you knew Henry. I was so surprised 
 that I said I d take it right off; felt twould be 
 
 57
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 flyin in the face of Providence not to. A miracle 
 jumpin Judas ! I never knew Henry to give 
 anybody anything afore unless twas the small 
 pox, and then twan t a genuine case, nothin but 
 varioloid." 
 
 " But what kind of a dog is it? " 
 
 " I don t know. Henry used to own the mother 
 of it, and she was one quarter mastiff and the rest 
 assorted varieties. This one he s givin me ain t a 
 whole dog, you see; just a half-grown pup. The 
 varioloid all over again hey? Ho, ho! I didn t 
 really take him for sartin, you understand; just on 
 trial. If we like him, we ll keep him, that s all." 
 
 The third afternoon following this announce 
 ment, Brown was alone in the kitchen, and busy. 
 Seth had departed on one of his mysterious excur 
 sions, carrying a coil of rope, a pulley and a gallon 
 can of paint. Before leaving the house he had 
 given his helper some instructions concerning sup 
 per. 
 
 " Might s well have a lobster tonight," he said. 
 " Ever cook a lobster, did you? " 
 
 No, Mr. Brown had never cooked a lobster. 
 
 " Well, it s simple enough. All you ve got to 
 do is bile him. Bile him in hot water till he s 
 done."
 
 THE COMING OF JOB 
 
 " I see." The substitute assistant was not enthu 
 siastic. Cooking he did not love. 
 
 "Humph!" he grunted. "I imagined if he 
 was boiled at all, it was be in hot water, not cold." 
 
 Atkins chuckled. " I mean you want to have the 
 water bilin hot when you put him in," he ex 
 plained. " Wait till she biles up good and then 
 souse him; see? " 
 
 " I guess so. How do you know when he s 
 done?" 
 
 " Oh er I can t tell you. You ll have to trust 
 to your instinct, I caPlate. When he looks done, 
 he is done, most gen rally speakin ." 
 
 " Dear me ! how clear you make it. Would you 
 mind hintin as to how he looks when he s done ? " 
 
 " Why why, done, of course." 
 
 " Yes, of course. How stupid of me ! He is 
 done when he looks done, and when he looks done 
 he is done. Any child could follow those direc 
 tions. How is he done brown? " 
 
 " No. Brown ! the idea ! Red, of course. He s 
 green when you put him in the kittle, and when 
 you take him out, he s red. That s one way you 
 can tell." 
 
 " Yes, that will help some. All right, I ll boil 
 him till he s red, you needn t worry about that." 
 
 59
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " Oh, I sha n t worry. So long. I ll be back 
 about six or so. Put him in when the water s good 
 and hot, and you ll come out all right." 
 
 Thank you. I hope he will, but I have my 
 doubts. Where is he? " 
 
 "Who? the lobster? There s dozens down in 
 the car by the wharf. Lift the cover and fish one 
 out with the dip net. Pick out the biggest one 
 you can find, cause I m likely to be hungry when I 
 get back, and your appetite ain t a hummin bird s. 
 There! I ve got to go if I want to get anything 
 done afore . . . Humph ! never mind. So 
 long." 
 
 He hurried away, as if conscious that he had 
 said more than he intended. At the corner of the 
 house he turned to call : 
 
 " I say ! Brown ! be kind of careful when you 
 dip him out. None of em are plugged." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " I say none of them lobsters claws are plugged. 
 I didn t have time to plug the last lot I got from 
 my pots, so you want to handle em careful like, 
 else they ll nip you. Tote the one you pick out up 
 to the house in the dip-net; then you ll be all 
 right." 
 
 Evidently considering this warning sufficient to 
 60
 
 THE COMING OF JOB 
 
 prevent any possible trouble, he departed. John 
 Brown seated himself in the armchair by the door 
 and gazed at the sea. He gazed and thought until 
 he could bear to think no longer; then he rose and 
 entered the kitchen, where he kindled a fire in the 
 range and filled a kettle with water. Having thus 
 made ready the sacrificial altar, he took the long- 
 handled dip-net from its nail and descended the 
 bluff to the wharf. 
 
 The lobster car, a good-sized affair of laths 
 with a hinged cover closing the opening in its upper 
 surface, was floating under the wharf, to which it 
 was attached by a rope. Brown knelt on the string- 
 piece and peered down at it. It floated deep in 
 the water, the tide rippling strongly through it, be 
 tween the laths. The cover was fastened with a 
 wooden button. 
 
 The substitute assistant, after a deal of futile 
 and exasperating poking with the handle of the net, 
 managed to turn the button and throw back the 
 leather-hinged cover. Through the square open 
 ing the water beneath looked darkly green. There 
 was much seaweed in the car, and occasionally this 
 weed was stirred by living things which moved 
 sluggishly. 
 
 John Brown reversed the net, and, lying flat on 
 61
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 the wharf, gingerly thrust the business end of the 
 contrivance through the opening and into the dark, 
 weed-streaked water. Then he began feeling for 
 his prey. 
 
 He could feel it. Apparently the car was alive 
 with lobsters. As he moved the net through the 
 water there was always one just before it or be 
 hind it; but at least ten minutes elapsed before he 
 managed to get one in it. At length, when his 
 arms were weary and his patience almost exhausted, 
 the submerged net became heavy, and the handle 
 shook in his grasp. He shortened his hold and 
 began to pull in hand over hand. He had a lob 
 ster, a big lobster. 
 
 He could see a pair of claws opening and shut 
 ting wickedly. He raised the creature through the 
 opening, balanced the net on its edge, rose on one 
 knee, tried to stand erect, stumbled, lost his hold 
 on the handle and shot the lobster neatly out of 
 the meshes, over the edge of the car, and into the 
 free waters of the channel. Then he expressed his 
 feelings aloud and with emphasis. 
 
 Five minutes later he got another, but it was too 
 small to be of use. In twenty minutes he netted 
 three more, two of which got away. The third, 
 however, he dragged pantingly to the wharf and 
 
 62
 
 THE COMING OF JOB 
 
 sat beside it, gloating. It was his for keeps, and it 
 was a big one, the great-grandaddy of lobsters. 
 Its claws clashed and snapped at the twine of the 
 net like a pair of giant nut crackers. 
 
 Carrying it as far from his body as its weight at 
 the end of the handle would permit, he bore it in 
 triumph to the kitchen. To boil a lobster alive 
 had seemed a mean trick, and cruel, when Seth At 
 kins first ordered him to do it. Now he didn t 
 mind; it would serve the thing right for being so 
 hard to catch. Entering the kitchen, he balanced 
 the net across a chair and stepped to the range to 
 see if the water was boiling. It was not, and for a 
 very good reason the fire had gone out. Again 
 Mr. Brown expressed his feelings. 
 
 The fire, newly kindled, had burned to the last 
 ash. If he had been there to add more coal in 
 season, it would have survived; but he had been 
 otherwise engaged. There was nothing to be done 
 except rake out the ashes and begin anew. This he 
 did. When he removed the kettle he decided at 
 once that it was much too small for the purpose re 
 quired of it. To boil a lobster of that size in a 
 kettle of that size would necessitate boiling one 
 end at a time, and that, both for the victim and 
 himself, would be troublesome and agonizing. He 
 
 63
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 hunted about for a larger kettle and, finding none, 
 seized in desperation upon the wash boiler, filled it, 
 and lifted it to the top of the stove above the flick 
 ering new fire. 
 
 The fire burned slowly, and he sat down to rest 
 and wait. As he sank into the chair not that 
 across which the netted lobster was balanced, but 
 another he became aware of curious sounds from 
 without. Distant sounds they were, far off and 
 faint, but growing steadily louder; wails and long- 
 drawn howls, mournful and despairing. 
 
 " A-a-oo-ow ! Aa-ow-ooo ! " 
 
 "What in the world?" muttered Brown, and 
 ran out of the kitchen and around the corner of the 
 house. 
 
 There was nothing in sight, nothing strange or 
 unusual, that fs. Joshua, Seth s old horse, pick- 
 etted to a post in the back yard and grazing, or try 
 ing to graze, on the stubby beach grass, was the 
 only living exhibit. But the sounds continued and 
 grew louder. 
 
 " Aa-ow-ooo ! Ow-oo-ow-ooo ! " 
 
 Over the rise of a dune, a hundred yards off, 
 where the road to Eastboro village dipped towards 
 a swampy hollow, appeared a horse s head and the 
 top of a covered wagon. A moment later the 
 
 64
 
 THE COMING OF JOB 
 
 driver became visible, a freckled faced boy grin 
 ning like a pumpkin lantern. The horse trotted 
 through the sand up to the lights. Joshua whin 
 nied as if he enjoyed the prospect of company. 
 From the back of the wagon, somewhere beneath 
 the shade of the cover, arose a heartrending wail, 
 reeking of sorrow and agony. 
 
 " Aa-ow-ooo/ Ooo-aa-ow/ " 
 
 " For heaven s sake," exclaimed the lightkeeper s 
 helper, running to meet the vehicle, " what is the 
 matter? " 
 
 The boy grinned more expansively than ever. 
 Whoa ! " he shouted, to the horse he was driv 
 ing. The animal stopped in his tracks, evidently 
 glad of the opportunity. Another howl burst from 
 the covered depths of the wagon. 
 
 ; I ve got him," said the boy, with a triumphant 
 nod and a jerk of his thumb over his shoulder. 
 " He s in there." 
 
 "He? Who? What?" 
 
 "Job. He s in there. Hear him? He s been 
 goin on like that ever since he finished his bone, 
 and that was over two mile back. Say," admir 
 ingly, " he s some singer, ain t he ! Hear that, 
 will ye?" 
 
 Another wail arose from the wagon. Brown 
 
 65
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 hastened to the rear of the vehicle, on the canvas 
 side of which were painted the words " Henry G. 
 Goodspeed, Groceries, Dry and Fancy Goods and 
 Notions, Eastboro," and peered in over the tail 
 board. The interior of the wagon was well nigh 
 filled by a big box with strips of board nailed across 
 its top. From between these strips a tawny nose 
 was uplifted. As the helper stared wonderingly at 
 the box and the nose, the boy sprang from his seat 
 and joined him. 
 
 11 That s him," declared the boy. " Hi, there, 
 Job, tune up now! What s the matter with ye? " 
 
 His answer was an unearthly howl from the box, 
 accompanied by a mighty scratching. The boy 
 laughed delightedly. 
 
 " Ain t he a wonder? " he demanded. " Ought 
 to be in church choir, hadn t he." 
 
 Brown stepped on the hub of a rear wheel, and, 
 clinging to the post of the wagon cover, looked 
 down into the box. The creature inside was about 
 the size of a month old calf. 
 
 " It s a it s a dog," he exclaimed. " A dog, 
 isn t it?" 
 
 " Sure, it s a dog. Or he ll be a dog when he 
 grows up. Nothin but a pup now, he ain t. 
 Where s Seth?" 
 
 66
 
 THE COMING OF JOB 
 
 " Seth? Oh, Mr. Atkins; he s not here." 
 
 11 Ain t he ? Where s he gone ? " 
 
 " I don t know." 
 
 "Don t ye? When s he comin back? Hush 
 up! " This last was a command to the prisoner 
 in the box, who paid absolutely no attention to it. 
 
 " I don t know when he ll be back. Do you 
 want to see him personally? Won t I do? I m in 
 charge here till he returns." 
 
 " Be ye? Oh, you re the new assistant from Bos 
 ton. You ll do. All I want to do is unload him 
 Job, I mean and leave a couple bundles of fly 
 paper Seth ordered. Here!" lowering the tail 
 board and climbing into the wagon, " you catch a- 
 holt of t other end of the box, and I ll shove on this 
 one. Hush up, Job ! Nobody s goin to eat ye 
 less it s the moskeeters. Now, then, mister, here 
 he comes." 
 
 He began pushing the box toward the open end 
 of the wagon. The dog s whines and screams 
 and scratchings furnished an accompaniment al 
 most deafening. 
 
 " Wait ! Stop ! For heaven s sake, wait ! " 
 shouted Brown. " What are you putting that brute 
 off here for? I don t want him." 
 
 " Yes, you do. Seth does, anyhow. Henry G. 
 
 67
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 made him a present of Job last time Seth was over 
 to the store. Didn t he tell ye ? " 
 
 Then the substitute assistant remembered. This 
 was the " half-grown pup " Atkins had said was to 
 be brought over by the grocery boy. This was the 
 creature they were to accept " on trial." 
 
 u Well, by George! " he exclaimed in disgust. 
 
 " Didn t Seth tell ye? " asked the boy again. 
 
 " Yes. . . . Yes, I believe he did. But " 
 
 " Then stand by while I unload him. Here he 
 comes now. H ist him down easy as you can." 
 
 That was not too easy, for the end of the box 
 slid from the tail-board to the ground with a 
 thump that shook the breath from the prisoner 
 within. But the breath came back again and fur 
 nished motive power for more and worse howls 
 and whines. Joshua pricked up his ears and 
 trotted to the further end of his halter. 
 
 " There ! " said Henry G. s boy, jumping to the 
 ground beside the box, " that s off my hands, thank 
 the mercy! Here s your fly paper. Five dozen 
 sheets. You must have pretty nigh as many flies 
 down here as you have moskeeters. Well, so long. 
 I got to be goin ." 
 
 " Wait a minute," pleaded Brown. " What 
 shall I do with this er blessed dog? Is he sav- 
 
 68
 
 THE COMING OF JOB 
 
 age? Why did you bring him in a crate like a 
 piano? " 
 
 " Cause twas the easiest way. You couldn t tie 
 him up, not in a cart no bigger n this. Might s 
 well tie up an elephant. Besides, he won t stay 
 tied up nowheres. Busted more clotheslines than 
 I ve got fingers and toes, that pup has. He needs 
 a chain cable to keep him to his moorin s. Don t 
 ye, Job, you old earthquake? Hey? " 
 
 He pounded on the box, and the earthquake 
 obliged with a renewed series of shocks and shak 
 ings. 
 
 The lightkeeper s assistant smiled in spite of 
 himself. 
 
 Who named him Job? " he asked. 
 
 " Henry G. s cousin from Boston. He said he 
 seemed to be always sufferin and fillin the land 
 with roarin s, like Job in the Bible. So, bein as 
 he hadn t no name except cuss words, that one stuck. 
 I cal late Henry G. s glad enough to get rid of him. 
 Ho! ho!" 
 
 " Did Mr. Atkins see his this did he see his 
 present before he accepted it? " 
 
 " No. That s the best part of the joke. Well," 
 clambering to his seat and picking up the reins, 
 " I ve got five mile of sand and moskeeters to 
 6 69
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 navigate, so I ve got to be joggin . Oh, sayl goin 
 to leave him in the box there, be ye? " 
 
 " I guess so, for the present." 
 
 " Well, I wouldn t leave him too long. He s 
 stronger n Samson and the Philippines rolled to 
 gether, and he s humped up his back so much on 
 the way acrost that he s started most of the nails 
 in them slats over top of him. I tell ye what you 
 do: Give him a bone or a chunk of tough meat to 
 chaw on. Then he ll rest easy for a spell. Good 
 bye. I wish I could stay and see Seth when he 
 looks at his present, but I can t. Gid-dap, Jan 
 uary." 
 
 The grocery wagon rolled out of the yard. The 
 forsaken Job sent a roar of regret after him. Also, 
 he " humped us his back," and the nails holding 
 the slats in place started and gave alarmingly. 
 John Brown hastened to the house in quest of a 
 bone.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE GOING OF JOSHUA 
 
 HE found one, after a time, the relic of a 
 ham, with a good deal of meat on it. 
 Atkins, economical soul, would have 
 protested in horror against the sinful waste, but 
 his helper would cheerfully have sacrificed a whole 
 hog to quiet the wails from the box in the yard. 
 He pushed the ham bone between the slats, and Job 
 received it greedily. The howls and whines ceased 
 and were succeeded by gnawings and crunchings. 
 Brown returned to the kitchen to inspect his neg 
 lected fire. 
 
 This time the fire was not out, but it burned 
 slowly. The water in the wash boiler was only 
 lukewarm. The big lobster in the net balanced on 
 the chair clashed his claws wickedly as the substi 
 tute assistant approached. The door had been left 
 open, and the room hummed with flies. Brown 
 shut the door and, while waiting for the water to 
 
 71
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 heat, separated a dozen sheets of the sticky fly 
 paper and placed them in conspicuous places. He 
 wondered as he did so what some of his former ac 
 quaintances would say if they could see him. He 
 he a cook, and a roustabout, a dishwasher and 
 a scrubber of brass at Eastboro Twin-Lights! 
 How long must he stay there? For months at 
 least. He should be thankful that he was there; 
 thankful that there was such a place, where no one 
 came and where he could remain until he was for 
 gotten. He was thankful, of course he was. But 
 what a life to live! 
 
 He wondered what Atkins thought of him; 
 how much the lightkeeper guessed concerning his 
 identity and his story. He could not guess within 
 miles of the truth, but he must indulge in some 
 curious speculations. Then he fell to wondering 
 about Seth himself. What was it that the light- 
 keeper was hiding from the world? Odd that two 
 people, each possessing a secret, should come to 
 gether at that lonely spot. Where was it that Seth 
 went almost every afternoon? Had these daily 
 absences any connection with the great mystery? 
 
 He distributed the sheets of fly paper about the 
 room, in places where he judged them likely to do 
 the most good, and had the satisfaction of seeing 
 
 72
 
 THE GOING OP JOSHUA 
 
 a number of the tormenting insects caught imme 
 diately. Then he tested the water in the boiler. It 
 was warmer, even hot, but not boiling. 
 
 He had almost forgotten the dog, but now was 
 reminded by the animal itself, who, having appar 
 ently swallowed the bone whole, began once more 
 to howl lugubriously. Brown decided to let him 
 howl for the present, and, going into the living- 
 room, picked up an old magazine and began list 
 lessly to read. 
 
 The howls from the yard continued, swelled to 
 a crescendo of shrieks and then suddenly ceased. 
 A moment later there was a thump and a mighty 
 scratching at the kitchen door. The substitute as 
 sistant dropped the magazine and sprang from his 
 chair. 
 
 " Good Lord! " he exclaimed; " I believe " 
 
 He did not finish the sentence. There was no 
 need. If he had any doubts as to the cause of 
 the racket at the door they were dispelled by a 
 howl like a fog whistle. " Job " had escaped 
 from durance vile and was seeking companion 
 ship. 
 
 Brown muttered an exclamation of impatience 
 and, opening the door a very little way, peeped 
 through the crack. The pup he looked like a 
 
 73
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 scrawny young lion hailed his appearance with a 
 series of wild yelps. His mouth opened like a Mam 
 moth Cave in miniature, and a foot of red tongue 
 flapped like a danger signal. 
 
 u Get out, you brute 1 " ordered Brown. 
 
 Job did not get out. Instead he yelped again 
 and capered with the grace of a cow. His feet 
 and legs seemed to have grown out of proportion 
 to the rest of him; they were enormous. Down 
 the length of his yellow back were three raw fur 
 rows which the nails of the box cover had scraped 
 as he climbed from under them. 
 
 "Nice dog!" coaxed the lightkeeper s helper. 
 " Nice doggie ! Good old boy ! " 
 
 The good old boy pranced joyfully and made * 
 charge at the door. Brown slammed it shut just 
 in time. 
 
 " Clear out! " he yelled, from behind it. " Go 
 away ! Go and lie down !" 
 
 The answer was a mighty howl of disappoint 
 ment and an assault on the door which threatened 
 to shatter the panels. Job s paws were armed with 
 claws proportionate to their size. 
 
 This would never do. The paint on that door 
 had been furnished by the government, and Atkins 
 was very careful of it. Brown, within, pounded 
 
 74
 
 THE GOING OF JOSHUA 
 
 a protest and again commanded the dog to go and 
 lie down. Job, without, thumped and scratched 
 and howled louder than ever. He had decidedly 
 the best of the duet, and the door was suffering 
 every second. Brown picked up the fire shovel 
 and threw the door wide open. 
 
 " Get out! " he roared. " Get out or I ll kill 
 you ! " 
 
 He brandished the shovel, expecting an as 
 sault. But none came. It was evident that Job 
 knew a shovel when he saw it, had encountered 
 other shovels in the course of his brief young 
 life. His ears and tail drooped, and he backed 
 away. 
 
 "Clear out!" repeated Brown, advancing 
 threateningly. With each step of the advance, Job 
 retreated a corresponding distance. When the as 
 sistant stopped, he stopped. Brown lowered the 
 shovel and looked at him. The dog grovelled in 
 the sand and whined dolefully. 
 
 " Humph! " grunted the young man; " I guess 
 you re not as dangerous as you look. Stay where 
 you are and keep still." 
 
 He turned to enter the kitchen, turning again 
 just in time to find the pup at his heels. He lifted 
 the shovel, and Job jumped frantically out of 
 
 75
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 reach, sat down in a clump of beach grass, lifted 
 his nose to the sky and expressed his feelings in a 
 howl of utter misery. 
 
 " Good heavens ! " observed John Brown fer 
 vently, and, shifting the shovel to his left hand, 
 rubbed his forehead with his right. Job howled 
 once more and gazed at him with sorrowful appeal. 
 The situation was so ridiculous that the young man 
 began to laugh. This merriment appeared to en 
 courage the pup, who stopped howling and began 
 to caper, throwing the loose sand from beneath his 
 paws in showers. 
 
 What s the matter, old boy? " inquired Brown. 
 " Lonesome, are you? " 
 
 Job was making himself the center of a small- 
 sized sand spout. 
 
 " Humph ! Well . . . well, all right. I m 
 not going to hurt you. Stay where you are, and 
 I won t shut the door." 
 
 But this compromise was not satisfactory, be 
 cause the moment the young man started to cross 
 the threshold the dog started to follow. When 
 Brown halted, he followed suit and howled. 
 Then the substitute assistant surrendered uncondi 
 tionally. 
 
 "All right," he said. " Come in, then, if you 
 76
 
 THE GOING OF JOSHUA 
 
 want to. Come in ! but for goodness sake keep still 
 when you are in." 
 
 He strode into the kitchen, leaving the door 
 open. Job slunk after him, and crouched with his 
 muzzle across the sill, evidently not yet certain that 
 his victory was complete. He did not howl, how 
 ever, and his late adversary was thankful for the 
 omission. 
 
 Brown bethought himself of the water in the 
 wash boiler and, removing the cover, tested it with 
 his finger. It was steadily heating, but not yet at 
 the boiling point. He pushed the boiler aside, 
 lifted a lid of the range and inspected the fire. 
 From behind him came a yelp, another, a thump, 
 and then a series of thumps and yelps. He turned 
 and saw Job in the center of the floor apparently 
 having a fit. 
 
 The moment his back was turned, the pup had 
 sneaked into the kitchen. It was not a large 
 kitchen, and Job was distinctly a large dog. Also, 
 he was suspicious of further assaults with the fire 
 shovel and had endeavored to find a hiding place 
 under the table. In crawling beneath this article 
 of furniture he had knocked off a sheet of the fly 
 paper. This had fallen " butter side down " upon 
 his back, and stuck fast. He reached aft to pull 
 
 77
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 it loose with his teeth and had encountered a sec 
 ond sheet laid on a chair. This had stuck to his 
 neck. Job was an apprehensive animal by nature 
 and as the result of experience, and his nerves were 
 easily unstrung. He forgot the shovel, forgot the 
 human whom he had been fearfully trying to pro 
 pitiate, forgot everything except the dreadful ob 
 jects which clung to him and pulled his hair. He 
 rolled from beneath the table, a shrieking, kicking, 
 snapping cyclone. And that kitchen was no place 
 for a cyclone. 
 
 He rolled and whirled for an instant, then 
 scrambled to his feet and began running in widen 
 ing circles. Brown tried to seize him as he passed, 
 but he might as well have seized a railroad train. 
 Another chair, also loaded with fly paper, upset, 
 and Job added a third sheet to his collection. This 
 one plastered itself across his nose and eyes. He 
 ceased running forward and began to leap high in 
 the air and backwards. The net containing the 
 big lobster fell to the floor. Then John Brown fled 
 to the open air, leaned against the side of the build 
 ing and screamed with laughter. 
 
 Inside the kitchen the uproar was terrific. 
 Howls, shrill yelps, thumps and crashes. Then 
 came a crash louder than any preceding it, a splash 
 
 78
 
 of water across the sill, and from the doorway 
 leaped, or flew, an object steaming and dripping, 
 fluttering with fly paper, and with a giant lobster 
 clamped firmly to its tail. The lobster was knocked 
 off against the door post, but the rest of the exhibit 
 kept on around the corner of the house, shrieking 
 as it flew. Brown collapsed in the sand and 
 laughed until his sides ached and he was too weak 
 to laugh longer. 
 
 At last he got up and staggered after it. He 
 was still laughing when he reached the back yard, 
 but there he stopped laughing and uttered an ex 
 clamation of impatience and some alarm. 
 
 Of Job there was no sign, though from some 
 where amid the dunes sounded yelps, screams and 
 the breaking of twigs as the persecuted one fled 
 blindly through the bayberry and beachplum 
 bushes. But Brown was not anxious about the 
 dog. What caused him to shout and then break 
 into a run was the sight of Joshua, the old horse, 
 galloping at top speed along the road to the south. 
 Even his sedate and ancient calm had not been 
 proof against the apparition which burst from the 
 kitchen. In his fright he had broken his halter 
 rope and managed a miracle, considering his 
 age to leap the pasture fence and run. 
 
 79
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 That horse was the apple of Seth Atkins s eye. 
 The lightkeeper believed him to be a wonder of 
 strength and endurance, and never left the lights 
 without cautioning his helper to keep an eye on 
 Joshua, " cause if anything happened to him I d 
 have to hunt a mighty long spell to find another 
 that could tech him." Brown accepted this trust 
 with composure, feeling morally certain that the 
 only thing likely to happen to Joshua was death 
 from overeating or old age. And now something 
 had happened Joshua was running away. 
 
 There was but one course to take ; Brown must 
 leave the government s property in its own care 
 and capture that horse. He had laughed until 
 running seemed an impossibility, but run he must, 
 and did, after a fashion. But Joshua was running, 
 too, and he was frightened. He galloped like a 
 colt, and the assistant lightkeeper gained upon him 
 very slowly. 
 
 The road was crooked and hilly, and the sand in 
 its ruts was deep. Brown would not have gained 
 at all, but for the fact that the horse, from long 
 habit, kept to the roadway and never tried short 
 cuts. His pursuer did, and, therefore, just as 
 Joshua entered the grove on the bluff above Pound- 
 dug Slough, Brown caught up with him and made 
 
 80
 
 THE GOING OF JOSHUA 
 
 a grab at the end of the trailing halter. He missed 
 it, and the horse took a fresh start. 
 
 The road through the grove was overgrown 
 with young trees and bushes, and amid these the 
 animal had a distinct advantage. Not until the 
 outer edge of the grove was reached did the pant 
 ing assistant get another opportunity at the rope. 
 This time he seized it and held on. 
 
 " Whoa ! " he shouted. " Whoa ! " 
 
 But Joshua did not " whoa " at once. He kept 
 on along the edge of the high, sandy slope. Brown, 
 from the tail of his eye, caught a glimpse of the 
 winding channel of the Slough beneath him, of a 
 small schooner heeled over on the mud flat at its 
 margin, and of the figure of a man at work beside 
 it. 
 
 Whoa!" he ordered once more. "Whoa, 
 Josh ! stand still ! " 
 
 Perhaps the horse would have stood still he 
 seemed about to do so but from the distance, 
 somewhere on the road he had just traversed, came 
 a howl, long-drawn and terrifyingly familiar. 
 Joshua heard it, jumped sidewise, jerked at the 
 halter and, as if playing " snap the whip," sent his 
 would-be captor heels over head over the edge of 
 the bank and rolling down the sandy slope. The 
 
 Si
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 halter flew from Brown s hands, he rolled and 
 bumped and clutched at clumps of grass and 
 bushes. Then he struck the beach and stopped, 
 spread-eagled on the wet sand. 
 
 A voice said: " Well by time!" 
 
 Brown looked up. Seth Atkins, a paint pail in 
 one hand and a dripping brush in the other, was 
 standing beside him, blank astonishment written on 
 his features. 
 
 " Well by time ! " said Seth again, and with 
 even stronger emphasis. 
 
 The substitute assistant raised himself to his 
 knees, rubbed his back with one hand, and then, 
 turning, sat in the sand and returned his superior s 
 astonished gaze with one of equal bewilderment. 
 
 " Hello ! " he gasped. " Well, by George ! it s 
 you, isn t it! What are you doing here? " 
 
 The lightkeeper put down the pail of paint. 
 
 " What am I doin ? " he repeated. " What am 
 
 / doin ? Say! " His astonishment changed to 
 
 suspicion and wrath. " Never you mind what I m 
 doin ," he went on. " That s my affairs. What 
 are you doin here? That s what I want to know." 
 
 Brown rubbed the sand out of his hair. 
 
 " I don t know exactly what I am doing yet," 
 he panted. 
 
 82
 
 THE GOING OF JOSHUA 
 
 You don t, hey? Well, you d better find out. 
 Maybe I can help you to remember. Sneakin 
 after me, wa n t you? Spyin , to find out what I 
 was up to, hey? " 
 
 He shook the wet paint brush angrily at his 
 helper. Brown looked at him for an instant; then 
 he rose to his feet. 
 
 "Spyin on me, was you?" repeated Seth. 
 " Didn t I tell you that mindin your own business 
 was part of our dicker if you was goin to stay at 
 Eastboro lighthouse? Didn t I tell you that? " 
 
 The young man answered with a contemptuous 
 shrug. Turning on his heel, he started to walk 
 away. Atkins sprang after him. 
 
 " Answer me," he ordered. " Didn t I say 
 you d got to mind your own business? " 
 
 11 You did," coldly. 
 
 You bet I did! And was you mindin it? " 
 
 " No. I was minding yours like a fool. Now 
 you may mind it yourself." 
 
 " Hold on there ! Where you goin ? " 
 
 " Back to the lights. And you may go to the 
 devil, or anywhere else that suits your convenience, 
 and take your confounded menagerie with you." 
 
 " My menag What on earth? Say, hold 
 
 on! Mercy on us, what s that?" 
 
 83
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 From the top of the bluff came a crashing and 
 a series of yelps. Through the thicket of beach- 
 plum bushes was thrust a yellow head, fringed with 
 torn fragments of fly paper. 
 
 11 What s that? " demanded the astonished light- 
 keeper. 
 
 Brown looked at the whining apparition in the 
 bushes and smiled maliciously. 
 
 " That," he observed, " is Job." 
 
 "Job?" 
 
 Yes." From somewhere in the grove came a 
 thrashing of branches and a frightened neigh. 
 " And that," he continued, " is Joshua, I presume. 
 If there are more Old Testament patriarchs in the 
 vicinity, I don t know where they are, and I don t 
 care. You may hunt for them yourself. I m go 
 ing to follow your advice and mind my own busi 
 ness. Good by." 
 
 He strode off up the beach. Job, at the top of 
 the bank, started to follow, but a well-aimed peb 
 ble caused him to dodge back. 
 
 " Hold on ! " roared the lightkeeper. " Maybe 
 I made a mistake. Perhaps you wa n t spyin on 
 me. Don t go off mad. I ... Wait!" 
 
 But John Brown did not wait. He strode rap 
 idly away up the beach. Seth stared after him. 
 
 84
 
 THE GOING OF JOSHUA 
 
 From the grove, where his halter had caught firmly 
 in the fork of a young pine, Joshua thrashed and 
 neighed. 
 
 " Aa-oo-ow! " howled Job, from the bushes. 
 
 An hour later Atkins, leading the weary and 
 homesick Joshua by the bridle, trudged in at the 
 lighthouse yard. Job, still ornamented with rem 
 nants of the fly paper, slunk at his heels. Seth 
 stabled the horse and, after some maneuvering, 
 managed to decoy the dog down the slope to the 
 boathouse, where he closed the door upon him and 
 his whines. Then he climbed back to the kitchen. 
 
 The table was set for one, and in the wash boiler 
 on the range the giant lobster was cooking. Of 
 the substitute assistant keeper there was no sign, 
 but, after searching, Seth found him in his room. 
 
 "Well?" observed Atkins, gruffly, "we might 
 s well have supper, hadn t we? " 
 
 Brown did not seem interested. " Your supper 
 is ready, I think," he answered. " I tried not to 
 forget anything." 
 
 " I guess tis; seems to be. Come on, and we ll 
 eat." 
 
 " I have eaten, thank you." 
 
 "You have? Alone?" 
 7 85
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " Yes. That, too," with emphasis, " is a part 
 of my business." 
 
 The lightkeeper stared, grunted, and then went 
 out of the room. He ate a lonely meal, not of the 
 lobster he kept that for another occasion but 
 one made up of cold scraps from the pantry. He 
 wandered uneasily about the premises, quieted 
 Job s wails for the time by a gift of eatable odds 
 and ends tossed into the boathouse, smoked, tried 
 to read, and, when it grew dusk, lit the lamps in 
 the towers. At last he walked to the closed door 
 of his helper s room and rapped. 
 
 "Well?" was the ungracious response. 
 
 u It s me, Atkins," he announced, hesitatingly. 
 " I d like to speak to you, if you don t mind." 
 
 "On business?" 
 
 " Well, no not exactly. Say, Brown, I guess 
 
 likely I d ought to beg your pardon again. I cal - 
 
 late I ve made another mistake. I jedge you wa n t 
 
 spyin on me when you dove down that bankin ." 
 
 Your judgment is good this time. I was not." 
 
 " No, I m sartin you wa n t. I apologize and 
 take it all back. Now can I come in? " 
 
 The door was thrown open. Seth entered, look 
 ing sheepish, and sat down in the little cane-seated 
 rocker. 
 
 86
 
 THE GOING OF JOSHUA 
 
 " Say," he began, after a moment of uncomfort 
 able 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 in 
 side 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 fam 
 ine on legs, that pup. But never mind him. He s 
 been tried and found guilty. Tell me what hap 
 pened." 
 
 Brown began the tale of the afternoon s per- 
 87
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 formances, beginning with his experience as a lob 
 ster 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 apol 
 ogize 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. n 
 
 "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 
 
 88
 
 THE GOING OF JOSHUA 
 
 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 " 
 
 44 Excuse me, Atkins. I mind my own business, 
 you know. I ask no questions, and you are under 
 no obligation to tell me anything." 
 
 14 1 know, I know." The lightkeeper nodded 
 solemnly. He clasped his knee with his hands and 
 rocked back and forth in his chair. " I know," 
 he went on, an absent, wistful look in his eye ; 44 but 
 you must have wondered, just the same. I bought 
 that craft because well, because she reminded me 
 of old times, I cal late. I used to command a 
 schooner like her once ; bigger and lots more able, 
 of course, but a fishin schooner, same as she used 
 to be. And I was a good skipper, if I do say it. 
 My crews jumped when I said the word, now I 
 tell you. That s where I belong on the deck of a 
 vessel. I m a man there a man." 
 
 He paused. Brown made no comment. Seth 
 89
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 continued to rock and to talk; he seemed to be 
 thinking aloud. 
 
 "Yes, sir," he declared, with a sigh; "when I 
 was afloat I was a man, and folks respected me. I 
 just do love salt water and sailin craft. That s 
 why I bought the Daisy M. I ve been riggin her 
 and caulkin her just for the fun of doin it. She ll 
 never float again. It would take a tide like a flood 
 to get her off them flats. But when I m aboard or 
 putterin around her, I m happy happier, I mean. 
 It makes me forget I m a good-for-nothin derelict, 
 stranded in an old woman s job of lightkeepin . Ah, 
 hum-a-day, young feller, you don t know what it is 
 to have been somebody, and then, because you was 
 a fool and did a fool thing, to be nothin nothin ! 
 You don t know what that is." 
 
 John Brown caught his breath. His fist de 
 scended upon the window ledge beside him. 
 
 " Don t I! " he groaned. " By George, don t 
 I ! Do you suppose " 
 
 He stopped short. Atkins started and came out 
 of his dream. 
 
 "Why why, yes," he said, hastily; "I s pose 
 likely you do. . . . Well, good night. I ve got 
 to go on watch. See you in the mornin ."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE PICNIC 
 
 SETH was true to his promise concerning Job. 
 The next afternoon that remarkable canine 
 was decoyed, by the usual bone, into the box 
 in which he had arrived. Being in, the cover was 
 securely renailed above him. Brown and the light- 
 keeper lifted the box into the back part of the 
 " open wagon," and Atkins drove triumphantly 
 away, the pup s agonized protests against the jour 
 ney serving as spurs to urge Joshua faster along the 
 road to the village. When, about six o clock, Seth 
 reentered the yard, he was grinning broadly. 
 
 * Well," inquired Brown, " did he take him 
 back willingly? " 
 
 Who? Henry G.? I don t know about the 
 willin part, but he ll take him back. I attended to 
 that." 
 
 What did he say? Did he think you ungrate 
 ful for refusing to accept his present? "
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 Atkins laughed aloud. " He didn t say noth- 
 in ," he declared. " He didn t know it when I 
 left Eastboro. I wa n t such a fool as to cart that 
 critter to the store, where all the gang round the 
 store could holler and make fun. Not much ! I 
 drove way round the other way, up the back road, 
 and unloaded him at Henry s house. I cal lated to 
 leave him with Aunt Olive that s Henry s sister, 
 keepin house for him but she d gone out to 
 sewin circle, and there wa n t nobody to home. 
 The side door was unlocked, so I lugged that box 
 into the settin room and left it there. Pretty nigh 
 broke my back; and that everlastin Job hollered 
 so I thought the whole town would hear him and 
 come runnin to stop the murderin that they d cal - 
 late was bein done. But there ain t no nigh neigh 
 bors, and those that are nighest ain t on speakin 1 
 terms with Henry; ruther have him murdered than 
 not, I shouldn t wonder. So I left Job in his box 
 in the settin room and cleared out." 
 
 The substitute assistant smiled delightedly. 
 
 " Good enough ! " he exclaimed. " What a 
 pleasant surprise for friend Henry or his house 
 keeper." 
 
 "Ho, ho! ain t it! I rather guess twill be 
 Henry himself that s surprised fust. Aunt Olive 
 
 92
 
 THE PICNIC 
 
 never leaves sewin circle till the last bit of supper s 
 eat up she s got some of her brother s stinginess 
 in her make-up so I cal late Henry ll get home 
 afore she does. I shouldn t wonder," with an ex 
 uberant chuckle, " if that settin room was some 
 stirred up when he sees it. The pup had loosened 
 the box cover afore I left. Ho, ho ! " 
 
 " But won t he send the dog back here again? " 
 
 " No, he won t. I left a note for him on the 
 table. There was consider ble ginger in every line 
 of it. No, Job won t be sent here, no matter what 
 becomes of him. And if anything should be broke 
 in that settin room well, there was some damage 
 done to our kitchen. No, I guess Henry G. and 
 me are square. He won t make any fuss ; he wants 
 to keep our trade, you see." 
 
 It was a true prophecy. The storekeeper made 
 no trouble, and Job remained at Eastboro until a 
 foray on a neighbor s chickens resulted in his re 
 moval from this vale of tears. Neither the light- 
 keeper nor his helper ever saw him again, and 
 when Seth next visited the store and solicitously 
 inquired concerning the pup s health, Henry G. 
 merely looked foolish and changed the subject. 
 
 But the dog s short sojourn at the Twin-Lights 
 had served to solve one mystery, that of Atkins s 
 
 93
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 daily excursions to Pounddug Slough. He went 
 there to work on the old schooner, the Daisy M. 
 Seth made no more disclosures concerning his past 
 life that remained a secret but he did suggest 
 his helper s going to inspect the schooner. " Just 
 walk across and look her over," he said. " I d 
 like to know what you think of her. See if I ain t 
 makin a pretty good job out of nothin . For 
 nothin , of course," he added, gloomily; "but it 
 keeps me from thinkin too much. Go and see 
 her, that s a good feller." 
 
 So the young man did go. He climbed aboard 
 the stranded craft a forlorn picture she made, 
 lying on her side in the mud and was surprised 
 to find how much had been manufactured " out of 
 nothing." Her seams, those which the sun had 
 opened, were caulked neatly; her deck was clean 
 and white; she was partially rigged, with new and 
 old canvas and ropes; and to his landsman s eyes 
 she looked almost fit for sea. But when he said 
 as much to Seth, the latter laughed scornfully. 
 
 " Fit for nothin ," scoffed the lightkeeper. " I 
 could make her fit, maybe, if I wanted to spend 
 money enough, but I don t. I can t get at her star 
 board side, that s down in the mud, and I cal late 
 she d leak like a skimmer. She s only got a fores l 
 
 94
 
 THE PICNIC 
 
 and a jib, and the jib s only a little one that used 
 to belong to a thirty-foot sloop. Her anchor s 
 gone, and I wouldn t trust her main topmast to 
 carry anything bigger n a handkerchief, nor that 
 in a breeze no more powerful than a canary bird s 
 breath. And, as I told you, it would take a tide 
 like a flood to float her. No, she s no good, and 
 never will be; but," with a sigh, " I get a little fun 
 fussin over her." 
 
 " Er by the way," he added, a little later, " of 
 course you won t mention to nobody what I told 
 you about about my bein a fishin skipper once. 
 Not that anybody ever comes here for you to men 
 tion it to, but I wouldn t want . . . You see, 
 nobody in Eastboro or anywheres on the Cape 
 knows where I come from, and so ... Oh, all 
 right, all right. I know you ain t the kind to talk. 
 Mind our own business, that s the motto you and 
 me cruise under, hey? " 
 
 Yet, although the conversation in the substitute 
 assistant s room was not again referred to by either, 
 it had the effect of making the oddly assorted pair 
 a bit closer in their companionship. The mutual 
 trust was strengthened by the lightkeeper s half 
 confidence and Brown s sympathetic reception of it. 
 Each was lonely, each had moments when he felt 
 
 95
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 he must express his hidden feelings to some one, 
 and, though neither recognized the fact, it was cer 
 tain that the time was coming when all mysteries 
 would be mysteries no longer. And one day oc 
 curred a series of ridiculous happenings which, bid 
 ding fair at first to end in a quarrel the relation 
 ship between the two, instead revealed in both a 
 kindred trait that removed the last barrier. 
 
 At a little before ten on this particular morning, 
 Brown, busy in the kitchen, heard vigorous lan 
 guage outside. It was Atkins who was speaking, 
 and the assistant wondered who on earth he could 
 be talking to. A glance around the doorpost 
 showed that he was, apparently, talking to himself 
 at least, there was no other human being to be 
 seen. He held in his hand a battered pair of ma 
 rine glasses and occasionally he peered through 
 them. Each time he did so his soliloquy became 
 more animated and profane. 
 
 "What s the matter?" demanded Brown, 
 emerging from the house. 
 
 " Matter?" repeated Seth. " Matter enough! 
 Here ! take a squint through them glasses and tell 
 me who s in that buggy comin yonder? " 
 
 The buggy, a black dot far down the sandy road 
 leading from the village, was rocking and dipping 
 
 96
 
 THE PICNIC 
 
 over the dunes. The assistant took the glasses, 
 adjusted them, and looked as directed. 
 
 " Why! " he said slowly, " there are three peo 
 ple in that buggy. A man and " 
 
 44 And two women; that s what I thought. Dum 
 idiots comin over to picnic and spend the day, 
 sure s taxes. And they ll want to be showed round 
 the lights and everywheres, and they ll ask more n 
 forty million questions. Consarn the luck ! " 
 
 Brown looked troubled. He had no desire to 
 meet strangers. 
 
 " How do you know they re coming here? " he 
 asked. The answer was conclusive. 
 
 " Because," snarled Seth, " as I should think 
 you d know by this time, there ain t no other place 
 round here they could come to." 
 
 A moment later, he added, " Well, you ll have 
 to show em round." 
 
 "/will?" 
 
 " Sartin. That s part of the assistant keeper s 
 job." 
 
 He chuckled as he said it. That chuckle grated 
 on the young man s nerves. 
 
 14 I m not the assistant," he declared cheerfully. 
 
 4 You ain t? What are you then? " 
 
 " Oh, just a helper. I don t get any wages. 
 
 97
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 You ve told me yourself, over and over, that I 
 have no regular standing here. And, according to 
 the government rules, those you ve got posted in 
 the kitchen, the lightkeeper is obliged to show vis 
 itors about. I wouldn t break the rules for the 
 world. Good morning. Think I ll go down to the 
 beach." 
 
 He stalked away whistling. Atkins, his face 
 flaming, roared after him a profane opinion con 
 cerning his actions. Then he went into the kitchen, 
 slamming the door with a bang. 
 
 Some twenty minutes later the helper heard his 
 name shouted from the top of the bluff. 
 
 "Mr. Brown! I say! Ahoy there, Mr. 
 Brown ! Come up here a minute, won t ye? " 
 
 Brown clambered up the path. A little man, 
 with grey throat whiskers, and wearing an anti 
 quated straw hat, the edge of the brim trimmed 
 with black braid, was standing waiting for him. 
 
 " Sorry to trouble you, Mr. Brown," stammered 
 the little man, " but you be Mr. Brown, ain t 
 you?" 
 
 "lam. Yes." 
 
 " Well, I cal lated you was. My name s Stover, 
 Abijah Stover. I live over to Trumet. Me and 
 my wife drove over for a sort of picnic like. 
 
 98
 
 . " 
 
 THE PICNIC 
 
 We ve got her cousin, Mrs. Sophia Hains, along. 
 Sophi s a widow from Boston, and she ain t never 
 seen a lighthouse afore. I know Seth Atkins 
 slightly, and I was cal latin he d show us around, 
 but bein as he s so sick " 
 
 "Sick? Is Mr. Atkins sick?" 
 
 " Why, yes. Didn t you know it? He s in the 
 bedroom there groanin somethin terrible. He 
 told me not to say nothin to the women folks, but 
 to hail you, and you d look out for us. Didn t you 
 know he was laid up? Why, he " 
 
 Brown did not wait to hear more. He strode 
 to the house, with Mr. Stover at his heels. On his 
 way he caught a glimpse of the buggy, the horse 
 dozing between the shafts. On the seat of the 
 buggy were two women, one plump and round- 
 faced, the other thin and gaunt. 
 
 Mr. Stover panted behind him. 
 
 " Say, Mr. Brown," he whispered, as they en 
 tered the kitchen; " don t tell my wife nor Sophi 
 about Seth s bein sick. Better not say a word to 
 them about it." 
 
 The tone in which this was spoken made the 
 substitute assistant curious. 
 
 "Why not?" he asked. 
 
 Cause well, cause Hannah s hobby is sick 
 99
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 folks, as you might say. If there s a cat in the 
 neighborhood that s ailin she s always dosin of it 
 up and fixin medicine for it, and the like of that. 
 And Sophi s one of them * New Thoughters and 
 don t believe anybody s got any right to be sick. 
 The two of em ain t done nothin but argue and 
 row over diseases and imagination and medicines 
 ever since Sophi got here. If they knew Seth was 
 laid up, I honestly believe they d drop picnic and 
 everythin and start fightin over whether he was 
 really sick or just thought he was. And I sort 
 of figgered on havin a quiet day off." 
 
 Brown found the lightkeeper stretched on the 
 bed in his room. He was dressed, with the excep 
 tion of coat and boots, and when the young man 
 entered he groaned feebly. 
 
 " What s the matter? " demanded the alarmed 
 helper. 
 
 " Oh, my ! " groaned Seth. " Oh, my ! " 
 
 " Are you in pain? What is it? Shall I phone 
 for the doctor?" 
 
 " No, no. No use gettin the doctor. I ll be all 
 right by and by. It s one of my attacks. I have 
 em every once in a while. Just let me alone, and 
 let me lay here without bein disturbed; then I ll 
 get better, I guess." 
 
 100
 
 THE PICNIC 
 
 "But it s so sudden! " 
 
 " I know. They always come on that way. 
 Now run along, like a good feller, and leave me to 
 my suff rin s. O-oh, dear!" 
 
 Much troubled, Brown turned to the door. As 
 he was going out he happened to look back. The 
 dresser stood against the wall beyond the bed, and 
 in its mirror he caught a glimpse of the face of 
 the sick man. On that face, which should have 
 been distorted with agony, was a broad grin. 
 
 Brown found the little Stover man waiting for 
 him in the kitchen. 
 
 " Be you ready? " he asked. 
 
 " Ready? " repeated Brown, absently. " Ready 
 for what?" 
 
 " Why, to show us round the lights. Sophi, she 
 ain t never seen one afore. Atkins said that, bein 
 as he wasn t able to leave his bed, you d show us 
 around." 
 
 "He did, hey?" 
 
 " Yes. He said you d be glad to." 
 
 " Hum ! " Mr. Brown s tone was that of one 
 upon whom, out of darkness, a light has suddenly 
 burst. " I see," he mused, thoughtfully. " Yes, 
 yes. I see." 
 
 For a minute he stood still, evidently pondering. 
 8 101
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 Then, with a twinkle in his eye, he strode out of 
 the house and walked briskly across to the buggy. 
 
 " Good morning, ladies," he said, removing the 
 new cap which Seth had recently purchased for him 
 in Eastboro. " Mr. Stover tells me you wish to 
 be shown the lights." 
 
 The plump woman answered. " Yes," she said, 
 briskly, " we do. Are you a new keeper? Where s 
 Mr. Atkins?" 
 
 " Mr. Atkins, I regret to say," began Brown, 
 " is ill. He- 
 Stover, standing at his elbow, interrupted nerv 
 ously. 
 
 " Mr. Brown here ll show us around," he said 
 quickly. " Seth said he would." 
 
 " I shall be happy," concurred that young gen 
 tleman. You must excuse me if I seem rather 
 worried. Mr. Atkins, my chief I believe you 
 know him, Mrs. Stover has been taken suddenly 
 ill, and is, apparently, suffering much pain. The 
 attack was very sudden, and I " 
 
 "Sick?" The plump woman seemed actually 
 to prick up her ears, like a sleepy cat at the sound 
 of the dinner bell. " Is Seth sick? And you all 
 alone with him here? Can t I do anything to 
 help?" 
 
 102
 
 THE PICNIC 
 
 " All he wants is to be left alone," put in her 
 husband anxiously. " He said so himself." 
 
 " Do you know what s the matter? Have you 
 got any medicine for him?" Mrs. Stover was 
 already climbing out of the buggy. 
 
 " No," replied Brown. " I haven t. That is, 
 I haven t given him any yet." 
 
 The slim woman, Mrs. Hains of Boston, now 
 broke into the conversation. 
 
 "Good thing!" she snapped. "Most medi 
 cine s nothing but opium and alcohol. Fill the 
 poor creature full of drugs and " 
 
 " I s pose you d set and preach New Thought 
 at him!" snapped Mrs. Stover. "As if a body 
 could be cured by hot air ! I believe I ll go right 
 in and see him. Don t you s pose I could help, Mr. 
 Brown?" 
 
 Mr. Brown seemed pleased, but reluctant. 
 " It s awfully good of you," he said. " I couldn t 
 think of troubling you when you ve come so far 
 on a pleasure excursion. But I am at my wit s 
 end." 
 
 ; Don t say another word ! " Mrs. Stover s 
 bulky figure was already on the way to the door 
 of the house. " I m only too glad to do what I can. 
 And, if I do say it, that shouldn t, I m always real 
 
 103
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 handy in a sick room. Bijah, be quiet; I don t 
 care if we are on a picnic; no human bein shall 
 suffer while I set around and do nothin ." 
 
 Mrs. Hains was at her cousin s heels. 
 
 " You ll worry him to death," she declared. 
 " You ll tell him how sick he is, and that he s goin 
 to die, and such stuff. What he needs is cheerful 
 conversation and mental uplift. It s too bad ! 
 Well, you sha n t have your own way with him, 
 anyhow. Mr. Brown, where is he? " 
 
 " You two goin to march right into his bed 
 room? " screamed the irate Abijah. The women 
 answered not. They were already in the kitchen. 
 Brown hastened after them. 
 
 " It s all right, ladies," he said. " Right this 
 way, please." 
 
 He led the way to the chamber of the sick man. 
 Mr. Atkins turned on his bed of pain, caught a 
 glimpse of the visitors, and sat up. 
 
 " What in time? " he roared. 
 
 " Seth," said Brown, benignly, " this is Mrs. 
 Stover of Eastboro. I think you know her. And 
 Mrs. Hains of Boston. These ladies have heard 
 of your sickness, and, having had experience in such 
 cases, have kindly offered to stay with you and 
 help in any way they can. Mrs. Stover, I will 
 
 104
 
 THE PICNIC 
 
 leave him in your hands. Please call me if I can be 
 of any assistance." 
 
 Without waiting for further comment from the 
 patient, whose face was a picture, he hastened to 
 the kitchen, choking as he went. Mr. Stover met 
 him at the outer door. 
 
 u Now you ve done it ! " wailed the little man. 
 "Now you ve done it! Didn t I tell you? Oh, 
 this ll be a hell of a picnic! " 
 
 He stalked away, righteous indignation overcom 
 ing him. Brown sat down in a rocking chair and 
 shook with emotion. From the direction of the 
 sick room came the sounds of three voices, each 
 trying to outscream the other. The substitute as 
 sistant listened to this for a while, and, as he did so, 
 a new thought struck him. He remembered a story 
 he had read in a magazine years before. He 
 crossed to the pantry, found an empty bottle, rinsed 
 it at the sink, stepped again to the pantry, and, en 
 tering it, closed the door behind him. There he 
 busied himself with the molasses jug, the soft-soap 
 bucket, the oil can, the pepper shaker, and a few 
 other utensils and their contents. Footsteps in the 
 kitchen caused him to hurriedly reenter that apart 
 ment. Mrs. Stover was standing by the range, her 
 face red. 
 
 105
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 "Oh, there you are, Mr. Brown!" she ex 
 claimed. "I wondered where you d gone to." 
 
 " How is he? " inquired Brown, the keenest anx 
 iety in his utterance. 
 
 " H m ! he d do well enough if he had the right 
 treatment. I cal late he s better now, even as tis; 
 but, when a person has to lay and hear over and 
 over again that what ails em is nothin but imag 
 ination, it ain t to be wondered at that they get 
 mad. What he needs is some sort of soothin medi 
 cine, and I only wish twan t so fur over to home. 
 I ve got just what he needs there." 
 
 " I was thinking " began Brown. 
 
 " What was you thinkin ? " 
 
 " I was wondering if some of my Stomach 
 Balm wouldn t help him. It s an old family re 
 ceipt, handed down from the Indians, I believe. I 
 always have a bottle with me and . . . Still, I 
 wouldn t prescribe, not knowing the disease." 
 
 Mrs. Stover s eyes sparkled. Patent medicines 
 were her hobby. 
 
 " Hum ! " she said. " Stomach Balm sounds 
 good. And he says his trouble is principally stom 
 ach. Some of them Indian medicines are mighty 
 powerful. Have you did you say you had a bot 
 tle with you, Mr. Brown? " 
 
 106
 
 THE PICNIC 
 
 The young man went again to the pantry and 
 returned with the bottle he had so recently found 
 there. Now, however, it w r as two thirds full of a 
 black sticky mixture. Mrs. Stover removed the 
 cork and took an investigating sniff. 
 
 " It smells powerful," she said, hopefully. 
 
 " It is. Would you like to taste it?" handing 
 her a tablespoon. He watched as she swallowed a 
 spoonful. 
 
 "Ugh! oh!" she gasped; even her long suf 
 fering palate rebelled at that taste. " It I should 
 think that ought to help him." 
 
 " I should think so. It may be the very thing 
 he needs. At any rate, it can t hurt him. It s quite 
 harmless." 
 
 Mrs. Stover s face was still twisted, under the 
 influence of the "Balm"; but her mind was 
 made up. 
 
 " I m goin to try it," she declared. " I don t 
 care if every New Thoughter in creation says no. 
 He needs medicine and needs it right away." 
 
 " The dose," said Mr. Brown, gravely, " is two 
 tablespoonfuls every fifteen minutes. I do hope it 
 will help him. Give him my sympathy my deep 
 est sympathy, Mrs. Stover, please." 
 
 The plump lady disappeared in the direction of 
 107
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 the sick room. The substitute assistant lingered 
 and listened. He heard a shrill pow-wow of femi 
 nine voices. Evidently " New Thought " and the 
 practice of medicine had once more clashed. The 
 argument waxed and waned. Followed the click 
 of a spoon against glass. And then came a gasp, 
 a gurgle, a choking yell; and high upon the salty 
 air enveloping Eastboro Twin-Lights rose the 
 voice of Mr. Seth Atkins, expressing his opinion of 
 the " Stomach Balm " and those who adminis 
 tered it. 
 
 John Brown darted out of the kitchen, dodged 
 around the corner of the house, tiptoed past the 
 bench by the bluff, where Mr. Stover sat gloomily 
 meditating, and ran lightly, down the path to the 
 creek and the wharf. The boathouse at the end 
 of the wharf offered a convenient refuge. Into 
 the building he darted, closed the door behind him, 
 and collapsed upon a heap of fish nets. 
 
 At three-thirty that afternoon, Mr. Atkins, ap 
 parently quite recovered, was sitting in the kitchen 
 rocker, reading a last week s newspaper, one of 
 a number procured on his most recent trip to the 
 village. The Stovers and their guest had departed. 
 Their buggy was out of sight beyond the dunes. 
 A slight noise startled the lightkeeper, and he 
 
 108
 
 THE PICNIC 
 
 looked up. His helper was standing in the door 
 way, upon his face an expression of intense and 
 delighted surprise. 
 
 " What? " exclaimed Mr. Brown. " What? Is 
 it really you ? " 
 
 Seth put down the paper and nodded. 
 
 " Um-hm," he observed drily, " it s really me." 
 
 " Up? and well?" queried Brown. 
 
 " Um-hm. Pretty well, considerin , thank you. 
 Been for a stroll up Washin ton Street, have you? 
 Or a little walk on the Common, maybe? " 
 
 The elaborate sarcasm of these questions was 
 intended to be withering. Mr. Brown, however, 
 did not wither. Neither did he blush. 
 
 " I have been," he said, " down at the boathouse. 
 I knew you were in safe hands and well looked 
 after, so I went away. I couldn t remain here and 
 hear you suffer." 
 
 "Hum! hear me suffer, hey? Much obliged, 
 I m sure. What have you been doin there all this 
 time? I hoped you was that is, I begun to be 
 afraid you was dead. Thought your sympathy for 
 me had been too much for you, maybe." 
 
 Brown mournfully shook his head. " It was 
 almost," he said, solemnly. " I think I dropped 
 asleep. I was quite overcome." 
 
 109
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " Hum! Better take a dose of that Stomach 
 Balm, hadn t you ? That ll liven you up, I ll guar 
 antee." 
 
 " No, thank you. The sight of you, well and 
 strong again, is all the medicine I need. We must 
 keep the Balm in case you have another attack. 
 By the way, I notice the dinner dishes haven t been 
 washed. I ll do them at once. I know you must 
 be tired, after your illness and the exertion of 
 showing your guests about the lights." 
 
 Atkins did not answer, although he seemed to 
 want to very much. However, he made no objec 
 tion when his helper, rolling up his sleeves, turned 
 to the sink and the dish washing. 
 
 Seth was silent all the rest of the afternoon and 
 during supper. But that evening, as Brown sat 
 on the bench outside, Atkins joined him. 
 
 "Hello!" said Seth, as cheerfully as if noth 
 ing had happened. 
 
 " Hello ! " replied the assistant, shortly. He 
 had been thinking once more, and his thoughts 
 were not pleasant. 
 
 " I s pose you cal late," began Atkins, " that 
 maybe I ve got a grudge against you on account of 
 this mornin and that Balm and such. I ain t." 
 
 " That s good. I m glad to hear it." 
 1 10
 
 THE PICNIC 
 
 " Yes. After the fust dose of that stuff for 
 thunder sakes what did you put in it? I was about 
 ready to murder you, but I ve got over that. I 
 don t blame you for gettin even. We are even, 
 you know." 
 
 " I m satisfied, if you are." 
 
 " I be. But what I don t understand is why you 
 didn t want to show them folks around." 
 
 " Oh, I don t know. I had my reasons, such as 
 they were. Why didn t you want to do it your 
 self?" 
 
 Seth crossed his legs and was silent for a mo 
 ment or two. Then he spoke firmly and as if his 
 mind was made up. 
 
 " Young feller," he said, " I don t know whether 
 you realize it or not, and perhaps I shouldn t be 
 the one to mention it but you re under some ob 
 ligations to me." 
 
 His companion nodded. " I realize that," he 
 said. 
 
 Yes, but maybe you don t realize the amount 
 of the obligations. I m riskin my job keepin you 
 here. If it wa n t for the superintendent bein such 
 a friend of mine, there d have been a reg lar as 
 sistant keeper app inted long ago. The gov ment 
 don t pick up its lightkeepers same as you would 
 
 ii i
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 farm hands. There s civil service to be gone 
 through, and the like of that. But you wanted to 
 stay, and I ve kept you, riskin my own job, as I 
 said. And now I cal late we d better have a plain 
 understandin . You ve got to know just what your 
 job is. I m goin to tell you." 
 
 He stopped, as if to let this sink in. Brown 
 nodded again. " All right," he observed, care 
 lessly; " go on and tell me; I m listening." 
 
 Your job around the lights you know already, 
 part of it. But there s somethin else. Whenever 
 men folks come here, I ll do my share of 
 showin the place off. But when women come 
 women, you understand you ve got to be guide. 
 I ll forgive you to-day s doin s. I tried to play a 
 joke on you, and you evened it up with a better one 
 on me. That s all right. But, after this, showin 1 
 the lights to females is your job, and you ve got to 
 do it or get out. No hard feelin s at all, and I d 
 really hate to lose you, but that s got to be as I say." 
 
 He rose, evidently considering the affair settled. 
 Brown caught his coat and pulled him back to the 
 bench. 
 
 " Wait, Atkins," he said. " I m grateful to you 
 for your kindness, I like you and I d like to please 
 you ; but if what you say is final, then as they used 
 
 I 12
 
 THE PICNIC 
 
 to say in some play or other * I guess you ll have 
 to hire another boy. 
 
 " What? You mean you ll quit? " 
 
 " Rather than do that yes." 
 
 "But why?" 
 
 " For reasons, as I told you. By the way, you 
 haven t told me why you object to acting as guide 
 to females." 
 
 " Because they are females. They re women, 
 darn em ! " 
 
 Before his helper could comment on this decla 
 ration, it was repeated. The lightkeeper shook 
 both his big fists in the air. 
 
 " Darn em ! Darn all the women ! " shouted 
 Seth Atkins. 
 
 " Amen," said John Brown, devoutly. 
 
 Seth s fists dropped into his lap. " What? " he 
 cried; " what did you say? " 
 
 " I said Amen." 
 
 " But but . . . why . . . you didn t 
 mean it ! " 
 
 " Didn t I ? " bitterly. " Humph ! " 
 
 Seth breathed heavily, started to speak once 
 more, closed his lips on the words, rose, walked 
 away a few paces, returned, and sat down. 
 
 " John Brown," he said, solemnly, " if you re
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 jokin , the powers forgive you, for I won t. If you 
 ain t, I I . . . See here, do you remember 
 what you asked me that night when you struck me 
 for the assistant keeper s job? You asked me if 
 I was married? " 
 
 Brown assented wonderingly. " Why, yes," he 
 said, " I believe I did." 
 
 " You did. And I ain t been so shook up for 
 many a day. Young feller, I m goin to tell you 
 what no other man in Ostable County knows. I 
 am married. I ve got a wife livin ."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 OUT OF THE BAG 
 
 I M married, and I ve got a wife livin ," contin 
 ued Seth; adding hurriedly and fiercely, 
 " don t you say nothin to me ! Don t you 
 put me out. I m goin to tell you ! I m goin to 
 tell you all of it all, by time ! I am, if I die for 
 it." 
 
 He was speaking so rapidly that the words were 
 jumbled together. He knocked his hat from his 
 forehead with a blow of his fist and actually panted 
 for breath. Brown had never before seen him in 
 this condition. 
 
 " Hold on ! Wait," he cried. " Atkins, you 
 needn t do this ; you mustn t. I am asking no ques 
 tions. We agreed to " 
 
 " Hush up! " Seth waved both hands in the air. 
 " Don t you talk ! Let me get this off my chest. 
 Good heavens alive, I ve been smotherin myself 
 with it for years, and, now I ve got started, I ll
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 blow off steam or my b iler ll bust. I m goin to 
 tell you. You listen 
 
 " Yes, sir, I m a married man," he went on. " I 
 wa n t always married, you understand. I used to 
 be single once. Once I was single; see? " 
 
 " I see," said Brown, repressing a smile. 
 
 Seth was not aware that there was anything hu 
 morous in his statement. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " I was single and and happy, 
 by jiminy! I was skipper of a mack rel schooner 
 down Cape Ann way, never mind where, and Seth 
 Atkins is only part of my name; never mind that, 
 neither. I sailed that schooner and I run that 
 schooner I run her; and when I said boo all 
 hands aboard jumped, I tell you. When I ve got 
 salt water underneath me, I m a man. But I told 
 you that afore. 
 
 " However, this is what I didn t tell you nor 
 nobody else in this part of the state : I stayed sin 
 gle till I got to be past forty. Everybody set me 
 down as an old bach. Then I met a woman; yes, 
 sir, I met a woman." 
 
 He made this assertion as if it was something 
 remarkable. His companion on the bench made 
 no comment. 
 
 " She was a widow woman," went on Seth, u and 
 116
 
 OUT OF THE BAG 
 
 she had a little property left her by her first hus 
 band. Owned a house and land, she did, and had 
 some money in the bank. Some folks cal lated I 
 married her for that, but they cal lated wrong. I 
 wanted her for herself. And I got her. Her 
 name was Emeline. I always thought Emeline was 
 a sort of pretty name." 
 
 He sighed. Brown observed that Emeline was 
 a very pretty name, indeed. 
 
 "Um-hm. That s what I thought, and Emeline 
 was a real pretty woman, for her age and heft 
 she was fleshy. She had some consider ble preju 
 dice against my goin to sea, so I agreed to stay on 
 shore a spell and farm it, as you might say. We 
 lived in the house she owned and was real happy 
 together. She bossed me around a good deal, but 
 I didn t mind bein bossed by her. Twas a change, 
 you see, for I d always been used to bossin other 
 folks. So I humored her. And, bein on land 
 made me lose my my grip or somethin ; cause 
 I seemed to forget how to boss. But we was 
 happy, and then then Bennie D. come. Consarn 
 him ! " 
 
 His teeth shut with a snap, and he struck his 
 knee with his fist. " Consarn him I " he repeated, 
 and was silent. 
 
 9 117
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 The substitute assistant ventured to jog his 
 memory. 
 
 41 Who was Bennie D. ? " he asked. 
 
 44 What? Hey? Bennie D.? Oh, he was her 
 brother-in-law, her husband s brother from up Bos 
 ton way. He was a genius at least, he said he 
 was and an inventor. The only invention I ever 
 could 1 arn he d invented to a finish was how to live 
 without workin , but he d got that brought to a 
 science. However, he was forever fussin over 
 some kind of machine that was sartin sure to give 
 power to the universe, when twas done, and Erne- 
 line s husband his name was Abner thought the 
 world and all of him. Fore he died he made Eme- 
 line promise to always be kind to Bennie D., and 
 she said she would. Abner left him a little money, 
 and he spent it travelin 4 for his health. I don t 
 know where he traveled to, but, wherever twas, 
 the health must have been there. He was the 
 healthiest critter ever I see and the laziest. 
 
 " Well, his travels bein over, down he comes 
 to make his sister-in-law a little visit. And he stays 
 on and stays on. He never took no shine to me 
 I judge he figgered I hadn t no business sharin 
 Abner s property and I never took to him, much. 
 
 44 Emeline noticed Bennie D. and me wa n t fall- 
 118
 
 OUT OF THE BAG 
 
 in on each other s necks any to speak of, and it 
 troubled her. She blamed me for it. Said Bennie 
 was a genius, and geniuses had sensitive natures 
 and had to be treated with consideration and differ 
 ent from other folks. And that promise to Abner 
 weighed on her conscience, I cal late. Anyhow, she 
 petted that blame inventor, and it made me mad. 
 And yet I didn t say much not so much as I d 
 ought to, I guess. And Bennie D. was always 
 heavin out little side remarks about Emeline s 
 bein fitted for better things than she was gettin , 
 and how, when his invention was perfected, he d 
 see that she didn t slave herself to death, and so on 
 and so on. And he had consider ble to say about 
 folks tryin to farm when they didn t know a cu 
 cumber from a watermelon, and how farmin 
 was a good excuse for doin nothin , and such. 
 And I didn t have any good answer to that, 
 cause I do know more about seaweed than I do 
 cucumbers, and the farm wasn t payin and I 
 knew it. 
 
 " If he d said these things right out plain, I 
 guess likely I d have give him what he deserved. 
 But he didn t; he just hinted and smiled and acted 
 superior and pityin . And if I got mad and hove 
 out a little sailor talk by accident, he d look as sorry 
 
 119
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 and shocked as the Come-Outer parson does when 
 there s a baby born to a Universalist family. He d 
 get up and shut the door, as if he was scart the 
 neighbors morals would suffer though the only 
 neighbor within hearin was an old critter that used 
 to run a billiard saloon in Gloucester, and his mor 
 als had been put out of their misery forty years 
 afore and he d suggest that Emeline better leave 
 the room, maybe. And then I d feel ashamed and 
 wouldn t know what to do, and twould end, 
 more n likely, by my leavin it myself. 
 
 You can see how matters was driftin . I could 
 see plain enough, and I cal late Emeline could, too 
 I ll give her credit for that. She didn t begin to 
 look as happy as she had, and that made me feel 
 worse than ever. One time, I found her cryin in 
 the wash room, and I went up and put my arm 
 round her. 
 
 " Emeline, I says, don t; please don t. Don t 
 cry. I know I ain t the husband I d ought to be to 
 you, but I m doin my best. I m tryin to do it. I 
 ain t a genius, I says. 
 
 " She interrupted me quick, sort of half 
 laughin and half cryin . No, Seth, says she, 
 * you ain t, that s a fact. 
 
 " That made me sort of mad. * No, I ain t, I 
 120
 
 OUT OF THE BAG 
 
 says again; and if you ask me, I d say one in the 
 house was enough, and to spare. 
 
 4 1 know you don t like Bennie, she says. 
 Taint that, says I, which was a lie. It ain t 
 that, I says; but somehow I don t seem to fit 
 around here. Bennie and me, we don t seem to 
 belong together. 
 
 He is Abner s brother, she says, and I 
 promised Abner. / can t tell him to go. / can t 
 tell him to leave this house, his brother s house. 
 
 " Now, consarn it, there was another thing. It 
 was Abner s house, or had been afore he died, and 
 now twas hers. If I ever forgot that fact, which 
 wa n t by no means likely to happen, Bennie D. 
 took occasions enough to remind me of it. So I 
 was set back again with my canvas flappin , as you 
 might say. 
 
 No, says I, course you can t. He s your 
 brother-in-law. 
 
 But you are my husband, she says, lookin 
 at me kind of queer. Anyhow, it seems kind of 
 queer to me now. I ve thought about that look a 
 good deal since, and sometimes I ve wondered if 
 if ... However, that s all past and by. 
 
 Yes, I says, pretty average bitter, but sec 
 ond husbands don t count for much. 
 
 in
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " Some of em don t seem to, that s a fact, she 
 says. 
 
 " By jimmy, I says, / don t count for much in 
 this house. 
 
 " Yes? says she. And whose fault is that? 
 
 : Well, I was mad. I tell you what I can do, 
 I sings out. I can quit this landlubber s job where 
 I m nothin but a swab, and go to sea again, where 
 I m some account. That s what I can do. 
 
 " She turned and looked at me. 
 
 You promised me never to go to sea again, 
 she says. 
 
 Humph ! says I ; some promises are hard to 
 keep. 
 
 I keep mine, hard or not, says she. Would 
 you go away and leave me? 
 
 " You ve got Brother Bennie, says I. He s 
 a genius; I ain t nothin but a man. 
 
 " She laughed, pretty scornful. * Are you sartin 
 you re that? she wanted to know. 
 
 Not since I been livin here, I ain t, I says. 
 And that ended that try of makin up. 
 
 " And from then on it got worse and worse. 
 There wan t much comfort at home where the in 
 ventor was, so I took to stayin out nights. Went 
 down to the store and hung around, listenin to 
 
 122
 
 OUT OF THE BAG 
 
 fools gabble, and wishin I was dead. And the 
 more I stayed out, the more Bennie D. laughed 
 and sneered and hinted. And then come that ridic - 
 lous business about Sarah Ann Christy. That 
 ended it for good and all." 
 
 Seth paused in his long story and looked out 
 across the starlit sea. 
 
 "Who was Sarah Ann?" asked Brown. The 
 lightkeeper seemed much embarrassed. 
 
 44 She was a born fool," he declared, with em 
 phasis; " born that way and been developin extry 
 foolishness ever since. She was a widow, too; 
 been good lookin once and couldn t forget it, and 
 she lived down nigh the store. When I d be goin 
 down or comin back, just as likely as not she was 
 settin on the piazza, and she d hail me. I didn t 
 want to stop and talk to her, of course." 
 
 44 No, of course not." 
 
 44 Well, I didn t. And I didn t have to talk. 
 Couldn t if I wanted to; she done it all. Her 
 tongue was hung on ball-bearin hinges and was a 
 self-winder guaranteed to run an hour steady every 
 time she set it goin . Talk! my jiminy crimps, 
 how that woman could talk! I couldn t get away; 
 I tried to, but, my soul, she wouldn t let me. And, 
 if twas a warm night, she d more n likely have a 
 
 123
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 pitcher of lemonade or some sort of cold wash 
 alongside, and I must stop and taste it. By time, 
 I can taste it yet ! 
 
 Well, there wa n t no harm in her at all; she 
 was just a fool that had to talk to somebody, males 
 preferred. But my stayin out nights wasn t helpin 
 the joyfulness of things to home, and one evenin 
 one evenin . . . Oh, there ! I started to tell 
 you this and I might s well get it over. 
 
 This evenin when I came home from the store 
 I see somethin was extry wrong soon s I struck the 
 settin room. Emeline was there, and Bennie D., 
 and I give you my word, I felt like turnin up my 
 coat collar, twas so frosty. Twas hotter n a 
 steamer s stoke-hole outside, but that room was 
 forty below zero. 
 
 " Nobody said nothin , you know that was the 
 worst of it; but I d have been glad if they had. 
 Finally, I said it myself. Well, Emeline, says I, 
 1 here I be. 
 
 " No answer, so I tried again. Well, Erne- 
 line, says I, * I ve fetched port finally. 1 
 
 " She didn t answer me then, but Bennie D. 
 laughed. He had a way of laughin that made 
 other folks want to cry or kill him. For choice 
 I d have done the killin first. 
 
 124
 
 OUT OF THE BAG 
 
 " More nautical conversation, sister, says he. 
 He knows how fond you are of that sort of thing/ 
 " You see, Emeline never did like to hear me 
 talk sailor talk; it reminded her too much that I 
 used to be a sailor, I s pose. And that inventor 
 knew she didn t like it, and so he rubbed it in every 
 time I made a slip. Twas just one of his little 
 ways; he had a million of em. 
 
 " But I tried once more. Emeline, I says, * I m 
 home. Can t you speak to me? 
 
 Then she looked at me. Yes, Seth, says she, 
 I see you are home. 
 
 At last, put in brother-in-law, * " There is no 
 place like home " when the other places are shut 
 up. And he laughed again. 
 
 4 Stop, Bennie, says Emeline, and he stopped. 
 That was another of his little ways to do 
 anything she asked him. Then she turned to 
 me. 
 
 Seth, she asks, where have you been? 
 * Oh, down street, says I, casual. It s tum 
 ble warm out. 
 
 " She never paid no attention to the weather sig 
 nals. * Where bouts down street ? she wanted to 
 know. 
 
 4 Oh, down to the store, I says. 
 125
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " You go to the store a good deal, don t you/ 
 says she. Bennie D. chuckled, and then begged her 
 pardon. That chuckle stirred my mad up. 
 
 I go where folks seem to be glad to see me, 
 I says. Where they treat me as if I was some 
 body. 
 
 So you was at the store the whole evenin ? 
 she asks. 
 
 Course I was, says I. Where else would I 
 be? 
 
 " She looked at me hard, and her face sort of 
 set. She didn t answer, but took up the sewin in 
 her lap and went to work on it. I remember she 
 dropped it once, and Bennie D. jumped to pick it 
 up for her, quick as a wink. I set down in the 
 rockin chair and took the Gloucester paper. But 
 I didn t really read. The clock ticked and ticked, 
 and twas so still you could hear every stroke of 
 the pendulum. Finally, I couldn t stand it no 
 longer. 
 
 " What on earth is the matter? I sings out. 
 * What have I done this time? Don t you want 
 me to go to the store? Is that it? 
 
 " She put down her sewin . Seth, says she, 
 quiet but awful cold, I want you to go anywheres 
 that you want to go. I never ll stand in your 
 
 126
 
 OUT OF THE BAG 
 
 way. But I want you tell the truth about it 
 afterwards. 
 
 " * The truth ? says I. * Don t I always tell you 
 the truth ? 
 
 u No, says she. You ve lied to me tonight. 
 You ve been callin on the Christy woman, and you 
 know it. 
 
 " Well, you could have knocked me down with 
 a baby s rattle. I d forgot all about that fool 
 Sarah Ann. I cal late I turned nineteen different 
 shades of red, and for a minute I couldn t think of 
 a word to say. And Bennie D. smiled, wicked as 
 the Old Harry himself. 
 
 How how did you how do you know I see 
 Sarah Ann Christy ? I hollered out, soon s I could 
 get my breath. 
 
 4 Because you were seen there, says she. 
 
 " Who see me? 
 
 I did, says she. I went down street myself, 
 on an errand, and, bein as you weren t here to go 
 with me, Bennie was good enough to go. It ain t 
 pleasant for a woman to go out alone after dark, 
 and and I have never been used to it, she says. 
 
 That kind of hurt me and pricked my con 
 science, as you may say. 
 
 You know I d been tickled to death to go with 
 127
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 you, Emeline, I says. Any time, you know it. 
 But you never asked me to go with you. 
 
 4 How long has it been since you asked to go 
 with me ? she says. 
 
 Do you really want me to go anywheres, 
 Emeline ? says I, eager. Do you ? I s posed you 
 
 didn t. If you d asked 
 
 Why should I always do the askin ? Must 
 a wife always ask her husband? Doesn t the hus 
 band ever do anything on his own responsibility? 
 Seth, I married you because I thought you was a 
 strong, self-reliant man, who would advise me and 
 
 protect me and 
 
 That cussed inventor bust into the talk right 
 here. I cal late he thought twas time. 
 
 " Excuse me, sister, he says; * don t humiliate 
 yourself afore him. Remember you and me saw 
 him tonight, saw him with our own eyes, settin 
 on a dark piazza with another woman. Drinkin 
 with her and 
 
 " Drinkin ! I yells. 
 
 " Yes, drinkin , says he, solemn. 4 1 don t 
 wonder you are ashamed of it. 
 
 " Ashamed! I ain t ashamed. 
 
 " * You hear that, sister ? Now I hope you re 
 convinced. 
 
 128
 
 OUT OF THE BAG 
 
 ""Twa n t nothin but lemonade I was drinkinV 
 I hollers, pretty nigh crazy. * She asked me to 
 stop and have a glass cause twas so hot. And as 
 for callin on her, I wa n t. I was just passin by, 
 and she sings out what a dreadful night twas, and 
 I said twas, too, and she says won t I have some- 
 thin cold to drink. That s all there was to it. 
 
 " Afore Emeline could answer, Bennie comes 
 back at me again. 
 
 Perhaps you ll tell us this was the first time 
 you have visited her, he purrs. 
 
 " Well, that was a sockdolager, cause twa n t 
 the first time. I don t know how many times twas. 
 I never kept no account of em. Too glad to get 
 away from her everlastin tongue-clackin . But 
 when twas put right up to me this way, I I de 
 clare I was all fussed up. I felt sick and I guess 
 I looked so. Emeline was lookin at me and seem- 
 in ly waitin for me to say somethin ; yet I couldn t 
 say it. And Bennie D. laughed, quiet but wicked. 
 
 That laugh fixed me. I swung round and lit 
 into him. 
 
 4 You mind your own business, I roars. 
 Ain t you ashamed, makin trouble with a man s 
 wife in his own house? 
 
 * I was under the impression the house be- 
 129
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 longed to my sister-in-law, he says. And again I 
 was knocked off my pins. 
 
 " You great big loafer! I yelled at him; set- 
 tin here doin nothin but raisin the divil gener 
 ally! I_I_ 
 
 " He jumped as if I d stuck a brad-awl into him. 
 The shocked expression came across his face again, 
 and he runs to Emeline and takes her arm. 
 
 Sister, sister, he says, quick, but gentle, this 
 is no place for you. Language like that is ... 
 there ! there ! don t you think you d better leave the 
 room ? 
 
 " She didn t go. As I remember it now, it keeps 
 comin back to me that she didn t go. She just 
 stood still and looked at me. And then she says: 
 Seth, why did you lie to me ? 
 
 " I didn t lie, I shouts. I forgot, I tell you. 
 I never thought that windmill of a Christy woman 
 was enough importance to remember. I didn t lie 
 to you I never did. Oh, Emeline, you know I 
 didn t. What s the matter with you and me, any 
 way? We used to be all right and now we re all 
 wrong. 
 
 11 One of us is, says Bennie D. That was the 
 final straw that choked the camel. 
 
 " Yes, I says to him, that s right, one of us 
 130
 
 is, and I don t know which. But I know this: 
 you and I can t stay together in this house any 
 longer. 
 
 " I can see that room now, as twas when I said 
 that. Us three lookin at each other, and the clock 
 a-tickin , and everything else still as still. I 
 choked, but I kept on. 
 
 " I mean it, I says. Either you clear out of 
 this house or I do. 
 
 " And, while the words was on my lips, again it 
 came to me strong that it wa n t really my house at 
 all. I turned to my wife. 
 
 " Emeline, says I, * it s got to be. You must 
 tell him to go, or else 
 
 " She d been lookin at me again with that kind 
 of queer look in her eyes, almost a hopeful look, 
 seem s if twas, and yet it couldn t have been, of 
 course. Now she drawed a long breath. 
 
 4 1 can t tell him to go, Seth, says she. * I 
 promised to give him a home as long as I had one. 
 
 "I set my jaws together. All right, I says; 
 then I m goin . Good by. 
 
 " And I went. Yes, sir, I went. Just as I was, 
 without any hat or dunnage of any kind. When I 
 slammed the back door it seemed as if I heard her 
 sing out my name. I waited, but I guess I was mis-
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 taken, for she didn t call it again. And and I 
 never set eyes on her since. No, sir, not once." 
 
 The lightkeeper stopped. John Brown said 
 nothing, but he laid a hand sympathetically on the 
 older man s shoulder. Seth shuddered, straight 
 ened, and went on. 
 
 " I cleared out of that town that very night," 
 he said. Walked clear into Gloucester, put up at 
 a tavern there till mornin , and then took the cars 
 to Boston. I cal lated fust that I d ship as mate or 
 somethin on a foreign voyage, but I couldn t; 
 somehow I couldn t bring myself to do it. You see, 
 I d promised her I wouldn t ever go to sea again, 
 and so well, I was a dum idiot, I s pose, but I 
 wouldn t break the promise. I knew the superin 
 tendent of lighthouses in this district, and I d been 
 an assistant keeper when I was younger. I told 
 him my yarn, and he told me about this job. I 
 changed my name, passed the examination and 
 come directly here. And here I ve stayed ever 
 since." 
 
 He paused again. Brown ventured to ask an 
 other question. 
 
 "And your and the lady?" he asked. 
 "Where is she?" 
 
 " I don t know. Livin in her house back there 
 132
 
 OUT OF THE BAG 
 
 on Cape Ann, I s pose. She was, last I knew. I 
 never ask no questions. I want to forget to for 
 get, by time ! ... Hi hum ! . . . Well, 
 now you know what nobody this side of Boston 
 knows. And you can understand why I m willin 
 to be buried alive down here. Cause a woman 
 wrecked my life ; I m done with women ; and to this 
 forsaken hole no women scarcely ever come. But, 
 when they do come, you must understand that I ex 
 pect you to show em round. After hearin what 
 I ve been through, I guess you ll be willin to do 
 that much for me." 
 
 He rose, evidently considering the affair settled. 
 Brown stroked his chin. 
 
 " I m sorry, Atkins," he observed, slowly; " and 
 I certainly do sympathize with you. But but, 
 as I said, I guess you ll have to hire another 
 boy! " 
 
 " What? What do you mean? " 
 
 u I mean that you re not the only woman-hater 
 on the beach." 
 
 " Hey? Has a woman given you the go by? " 
 
 " No. The other way around, if anything. 
 Look here, Atkins ! I m not in the habit of discuss 
 ing my private affairs with acquaintances, but 
 you ve been frank with me and well, hang it ! I ve 
 10 133
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 got to talk to somebody. At least, I feel that way 
 just now. Let s suppose a case. Suppose you were 
 a young fellow not long out of college a young 
 fellow whose mother was dead and whose dad was 
 rich, and head over heels in money-making, and 
 with the idea that his will was no more to be dis 
 puted than a law of the Almighty. Just suppose 
 that, will you? " 
 
 " Huh! Well, twill be hard supposin , but I ll 
 try. Heave ahead." 
 
 " Suppose that you d never been used to working 
 or supporting yourself. Had a position, a nominal 
 one, in your dad s office but absolutely no responsi 
 bility, all the money you wanted, and so on. Sup 
 pose because your father wanted you to and her 
 people felt the same you had become engaged to 
 a girl, a nice enough girl, too, in her way. But 
 then suppose that little by little you came to realize 
 that her way wasn t yours. You and she liked each 
 other well enough, but the whole thing was a fam 
 ily arrangement, a money arrangement, a perfectly 
 respectable, buy-and-sell affair. That and nothing 
 else. And the more you thought about it, the surer 
 you felt that it was so. But when you told your 
 governor he got on his ear and sailed into you, and 
 you sailed back, until finally he swore that you 
 
 134
 
 OUT OF THE BAG 
 
 should either marry that girl or he d throw you 
 out of his house and office to root for yourself. 
 What would you do ? " 
 
 " Hey? Land sakes ! I don t know. / always 
 had to root, so I ain t a competent judge. Go on, 
 you ve got me interested." 
 
 " Well, I said I d root, that s all. But I didn t 
 have the nerve to go and tell the girl. The engage 
 ment had been announced, and all that, and I knew 
 what a mess it would make for her. I sat in my 
 room, among the things I was packing in my grip 
 to take with me, and thought and thought. If I 
 went to her there would be a scene. If I said I had 
 been disinherited she would want to know why 
 naturally. I had quarreled with the governor 
 yes, but why? Then I should have to tell her the 
 real reason : I didn t want to marry her or anybody 
 else on such a bargain-counter basis. That seemed 
 such a rotten thing to say, and she might ask why it 
 had taken me such a long time to find it out. No, 
 I just couldn t tell her that. So, after my think 
 was over, I wrote her a note saying that my father 
 and I had had a disagreement and he had chucked 
 me out, or words to that effect. Naturally, under 
 the circumstances, marriage was out of the ques 
 tion, and I released her from the engagement. 
 
 135
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 Good by and good luck or something similar. I 
 mailed the letter and left the town the next morn- 
 ing." 
 
 He paused. The lightkeeper made no comment. 
 After a moment the young man continued. 
 
 " I landed in Boston," he said, " full of conceit 
 and high-minded ideas of working my own way up 
 the ladder. But in order to work up, you ve got 
 to get at least a hand-hold on the bottom rung. I 
 couldn t get it. Nobody wanted a genteel loafer, 
 which was me. My money gave out. I bought a 
 steamboat passage to another city, but I didn t have 
 enough left to buy a square meal. Then, by bull 
 luck, I fell overboard and landed here. And here 
 I found the solution. I m dead. If the governor 
 gets soft-hearted and gets private detectives on my 
 trail, they ll find I disappeared from that steamer, 
 that s all. Drowned, of course. She ll think so, 
 too. Good riddance to bad rubbish is the gen 
 eral verdict. I can stay here a year or so, and then, 
 being dead and forgotten, can go back to civiliza 
 tion and hustle for myself. But a woman is at the 
 bottom of my trouble, and I never want to see an 
 other. So, if my staying here depends upon my see 
 ing them, I guess, as I ve said twice already, you ll 
 have to hire another boy. 
 
 -36
 
 OUT OF THE BAG 
 
 He, too, rose. Seth laid a big hand on his shoul 
 der. 
 
 " Son," said the lightkeeper, " I m sorry for 
 you; I cal late I know how you feel. I like you 
 fust-rate, and if it s a possible thing, I ll fix it so s 
 you can stay right here long s you want to. As for 
 women folks that do come why, we ll dodge em 
 if we can, and share responsibility if we must. But 
 there s one thing you ve got to understand. You re 
 young, and maybe your woman hate ll wear off. If 
 it does, out you go. I can t have any sparkin or 
 lovemakin around these premises." 
 
 The assistant snorted contemptuously. 
 
 " If ever you catch me being even coldly famil 
 iar with a female of any age," he declared, " I 
 hereby request that you hit me, politely, but firmly, 
 with that axe," pointing to the kindling hatchet 
 leaning against the door post. 
 
 Seth chuckled. " Good stuff ! " he exclaimed. 
 " And, for my part, if ever you catch me gettin 
 confectionery with a woman, I ... well, don t 
 stop to pray over me; just drown me, that s all I 
 ask. It s a bargain. Shake ! " 
 
 So they shook, with great solemnity.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 NEIGHBORS AND WASPS 
 
 AND now affairs at the lights settled down 
 into a daily routine in which the light- 
 keeper and his helper each played his 
 appointed part. All mysteries now being solved, 
 and the trust between them mutual and without 
 reserve, they no longer were on their guard in 
 each other s presence, but talked freely on all sorts 
 of topics, and expressed their mutual dislike of 
 woman with frequency and point. No regular 
 assistant was appointed or seemed likely to be, for 
 the summer, at least. Seth and his friend, the su 
 perintendent, held another lengthy conversation 
 over the wire, and, while Brown s uncertain status 
 remained the same, there was a tacit understanding 
 that, by the first of September, if the young man 
 was sufficiently " broken in," the position vacated 
 by Ezra Payne should be his if he still wanted it. 
 4 You may change your mind by that time," ob- 
 138
 
 NEIGHBORS AND WASPS 
 
 served Seth. " This ain t no place for a chap with 
 your trainin , and I know it. It does well enough 
 for an old derelict like me, with nobody to care a 
 hang whether he lives or dies, but you re different. 
 And even for me the lonesomeness of it drives me 
 most crazy sometimes. Fve noticed you ve been 
 havin blue streaks more often than when you first 
 came. I cal late that by fall you ll be headin some- 
 wheres else, Mr. John Brown, " with significant 
 emphasis upon the name. 
 
 Brown stoutly denied being " bluer " than 
 usual, and his superior did not press the point. 
 Seth busied himself in his spare time with the work 
 on the Daisy M. and with his occasional trips be 
 hind Joshua to the village. Brown might have 
 made some of these trips, but he did not care to. 
 Solitude and seclusion he still desired, and there 
 were more of these than anything else at the Twin- 
 Lights. 
 
 The lightkeeper experimented with no more 
 dogs, but he had evidently not forgotten the life- 
 saving man s warning concerning possible thieves, 
 for he purchased a big spring-lock in Eastboro and 
 attached it to the door of the boathouse on the 
 little wharf. The lock was, at first, a good deal 
 more of a nuisance than an advantage, for the key 
 
 139
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 was always being forgotten or mislaid, and, on one 
 occasion, the door blew shut with Atkins inside the 
 building, and he pounded and shrieked for ten 
 minutes before his helper heard him and descended 
 to the rescue. 
 
 June crawled by, and July came. Crawled is the 
 proper word, for John Brown had never known 
 days so long or weeks so unending as those of that 
 early summer. The monotony was almost never 
 broken, and he began to find it deadly. He in 
 vented new duties about the lights and added swim 
 ming and walks up and down the beach to his lim 
 ited list of recreations. 
 
 The swimming he especially enjoyed. The cove 
 made a fine bathing place, and the boathouse was 
 his dressing room, though the fragrance of the 
 ancient fish nets stored within it was not that of 
 attar of roses. A cheap bathing suit was one of the 
 luxuries Atkins had bought for him, by request, 
 in Eastboro. Seth bought the suit under protest, 
 for he scoffed openly at his helper s daily bath. 
 
 " I should think," the lightkeeper declared over 
 and over again, " that you d had salt water soak 
 enough to last you for one spell ; a feller that come 
 as nigh drownin as you done ! " 
 
 Seth did not care for swimming; the wash- 
 140
 
 NEIGHBORS AND WASPS 
 
 tub every Saturday night furnished him with baths 
 sufficient. 
 
 He was particular to warn his helper against the 
 tide in the inlet: "The cove s all right," he said, 
 " but you want to look out and not try to swim 
 in the crick where it s narrow, or in that deep hole 
 by the end of the wharf, where the lobster car s 
 moored. When the tide s comin in or it s dead 
 high water, the current s strong there. On the ebb 
 it ll snake you out into the breakers sure as I m 
 settin here tellin you. The cove s all right and 
 good and safe; but keep away from the narrer part 
 of the crick." 
 
 Swimming was good fun, and walking, on pleas 
 ant days, was an aid in shaking off depression; but, 
 in spite of his denials and his attempts at appear 
 ing contented, the substitute assistant realized that 
 he was far from that happy condition. He did 
 not want to meet people, least of all people of his 
 own station in life his former station. Atkins 
 was a fine chap, in his way; but . . . Brown was 
 lonely . . . and when one is lonely, one thinks 
 of what might have been, and, perhaps, regrets. 
 Regrets, unavailing regrets, are the poorest com 
 panions possible. 
 
 The lightkeeper, too, seemed lonely, which, con- 
 141
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 sidering his years of experience in his present sit 
 uation, was odd. He explained his loneliness one 
 evening by observing that he cal lated he missed the 
 painting chaps. 
 
 14 What painting chaps? " asked Brown. 
 
 " Oh, them two young fellers that always used 
 to come to the cottage what you call the bun 
 galow across the cove there, the ones I told 
 you about. They was real friendly, sociable 
 young chaps, and I kind of liked to have em 
 runnin in and out. Seems queer to have it July, 
 and they not here to hail me and come over 
 to borrow stuff. And they was forever settin 
 around under white sunshades, sloppin paint onto 
 paper. I most wish they hadn t gone to Europe. 
 I cal late you d have liked em, too." 
 
 " Perhaps," said the helper, doubtfully. 
 
 " Oh, you would; no perhaps about it. It don t 
 seem right to see the bungalow all shuttered up and 
 deserted this time of year. You d have liked to 
 meet them young painters; they was your kind." 
 
 Yes, I know. Perhaps that s why I shouldn t 
 like to meet them." 
 
 " Hey? . . . Oh, yes, yes; I see. I never 
 thought of that. But tain t likely they d know 
 you ; they hailed from Boston, not New York." 
 
 142
 
 NEIGHBORS AND WASPS 
 
 " How did you know I came from New York? 
 I didn t tell you that." 
 
 " No, you didn t, that s a fact. But you said 
 you left the city where you lived and came to Bos 
 ton, so I sort of guessed New York. But that s 
 all right; I don t know and I don t care. Names 
 and places you and me might just as well not tell, 
 even to each other. If we don t tell them, we can 
 answer don t know to questions and tell the 
 truth; hey?" 
 
 One morning about a week later, Brown, his 
 dish washing and sweeping done, was busy in the 
 light-room at the top of the right hand tower, pol 
 ishing the brass of the lantern. The curtains were 
 drawn on the landward side, and those toward the 
 sea open. Seth, having finished his night watch 
 ing and breakfast, was audibly asleep in the house. 
 Brown rubbed and polished leisurely, his thoughts 
 far away, and a frown on his face. For the thou 
 sandth time that week he decided that he was a 
 loafer and a vagabond, and that it would have been 
 much better for himself, and creation generally, if 
 he had never risen after the plunge over the steam 
 er s rail. 
 
 He pulled the cloth cover over the glittering 
 lantern and descended the iron stair to the ground 
 
 143
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 floor. When he emerged into the open air, he 
 heard a sound which made him start and listen. 
 The sound was the distant rattle of wheels from 
 the direction of the village. Was another " pic 
 nic " coming? He walked briskly to the corner of 
 the house and peered down the winding road. A 
 carriage was in sight certainly, but it was going, 
 not coming. He watched it move further away 
 each moment. Someone not the grocer or a 
 tradesman was driving to the village. But where 
 had he been, and who was he ? Not Seth, for Seth 
 was asleep he could hear him. 
 
 The driver of the carriage, whoever he was, had 
 not visited the lights. And, as Atkins had said, 
 there was nowhere else to go on that road. Brown, 
 puzzled, looked about him, at the sea, the lights, 
 the house, the creek, the cove, the bluff on the other 
 side of the cove, the bungalow ah ! the bungalow I 
 
 For the door of the bungalow was open, and one 
 or two of the shutters were down. The carriage 
 had brought some person or persons to the bunga 
 low and left them there. Instantly, of course, 
 Brown thought of the artists from Boston. Prob 
 ably they had changed their minds and decided to 
 summer at Eastboro after all. His frown deep 
 ened. 
 
 144
 
 NEIGHBORS AND WASPS 
 
 Then, from across the cove, from the bungalow, 
 came a shrill scream, a feminine scream. The as 
 sistant started, scarcely believing his ears. Before 
 he could gather his wits, a stout woman, with a 
 checked apron in her hand, rushed out of the bun 
 galow door, looked about, saw him, and waved the 
 apron like a flag. 
 
 " Hi ! " she screamed. " Hi, you ! Mr. Light- 
 houseman ! come quick I do please come here quick 
 and help us ! " 
 
 There was but one thing to do, and Brown did 
 it instinctively. He raced through the beach grass, 
 down the hill, in obedience to the call. As he ran, 
 he wondered who on earth the stout woman could 
 be. Seth had said that the artists did their own 
 housekeeping. 
 
 " Hurry up ! " shrieked the stout woman, danc 
 ing an elephantine fandango in front of the bunga 
 low. " Come on! " 
 
 To run around the shore line of the cove would 
 have taken a good deal of time. However, had the 
 tide been at flood there would have been no other 
 way excepting by boat to reach the cottage. 
 But the tide was out, and the narrowest portion of 
 the creek, the stream connecting the cove with the 
 ocean, was but knee deep. Through the water
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 splashed the substitute assistant and clambered \. p 
 the bank beyond. 
 
 " Quick! " screamed the woman. " They ll eat 
 us alive! " 
 
 "Who? What?" panted Brown. 
 
 " Wasps ! They re in there ! The room s full 
 of em. If there s one thing on earth I m scart of, 
 it s . . . Don t stop to talk ! Go in!" 
 
 She indicated the door of a room adjoining the 
 living room of the little cottage. From behind the 
 door came sounds of upsetting furniture and sharp 
 slaps. Evidently the artists were having a lively 
 time. But they must be curious chaps to be afraid 
 of wasps. Brown opened the door and entered, 
 partly of his own volition, partly because he was 
 pushed by the stout woman. Then he gasped in 
 astonishment. 
 
 The wasps were there, dozens of them, and they 
 had built a nest in the upper corner of the room. 
 But they were not the astonishing part of the pic 
 ture. A young woman was there, also; a young 
 woman with dark hair and eyes, the sleeves of a 
 white shirtwaist rolled above her elbows, and a 
 wet towel in her right hand. She was skipping 
 lightly about the room, slapping frantically at the 
 humming insects. 
 
 146
 
 NEIGHBORS AND WASPS 
 
 " Mrs. Bascom," she panted, " don t stand there 
 screaming. Get another towel and " 
 
 Then she turned and saw Brown. For an instant 
 she, too, seemed astonished. But only for an in 
 stant. 
 
 " Oh, I m so glad you came ! " she exclaimed. 
 " Here ! take this ! you must hit quick and hard." 
 
 " This " was the towel. The assistant took it 
 mechanically. The young lady did not wait to give 
 further orders. She rushed out of the room and 
 shut the door. Brown was alone with the wasps, 
 and they were lively company. When, at last, the 
 battle was over, the last wasp was dead, the nest 
 was a crumpled gray heap over in the corner, and 
 the assistant s brow was ornamented with four red 
 and smarting punctures, which promised to shortly 
 become picturesque and painful lumps. Rubbing 
 these absently with one hand, and bearing the 
 towel in the other, he opened the door and stepped 
 out into the adjoining room. 
 
 The two women were awaiting him. He found 
 them standing directly in front of him as he 
 emerged. 
 
 "Have you have you killed them?" begged 
 the younger of the pair. 
 
 " Be they all dead? " demanded the other. 
 147
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 Brown nodded solemnly. " I guess so," he said. 
 " They seem to be." 
 
 " Oh, I m so glad ! " cried the dark haired girl. 
 " I m we are so much obliged to you." 
 
 " If there s any critters on earth," declared the 
 stout woman, " that I can t stand, it s wasps and 
 hornets and such. Mice, I don t mind " 
 
 " I do," interrupted her companion with empha 
 sis. 
 
 " But when I walked into that room and seen 
 that nest in the corner I was pretty nigh knocked 
 over and," she added, " it takes consider ble to 
 do that to me." 
 
 The assistant looked at her. " Yes," he said, 
 absently, " I should think it might. That is, I 
 mean I I beg your pardon." 
 
 He paused and wiped his forehead with the 
 towel. The young lady burst into a peal of laugh 
 ter, in which the stout woman joined. The laugh 
 was so infectious that even Brown was obliged to 
 smile. 
 
 " I apologize," he stammered. " I didn t mean 
 that exactly as it sounded. I m not responsible 
 mentally yet I guess." 
 
 44 I don t wonder." It was the stout woman who 
 answered. The girl had turned away and was 
 
 148
 
 NEIGHBORS AND WASPS 
 
 looking out the window ; her shoulders shook. " I 
 shouldn t think you would be. Hauled in bodily, 
 as you might say, and shut up in a room to fight 
 wasps ! And by folks you never saw afore and 
 don t know from Adam ! You needn t apologize. 
 I d forgive you if you said somethin a good deal 
 worse n that. I m long past the age where I m 
 sensitive about my weight, thank goodness." 
 
 " And we are so much obliged to you." The 
 girl was facing him once more, and she was serious, 
 though the corners of her mouth still twitched. 
 The whole affair is perfectly ridiculous," she said, 
 " but Mrs. Bascom was frightened and so was I 
 when I had time to realize it. Thank you again." 
 
 You re quite welcome, I m sure. No trouble 
 at all." 
 
 The assistant turned to go. His brain was be 
 ginning to regain a little of its normal poise, and 
 he was dimly conscious that he had been absent 
 from duty quite long enough. 
 
 " Maybe you d like to know who tis you ve 
 helped," observed the stout woman. " And, con- 
 siderin that we re likely to be next-door neighbors 
 for a spell, I cal late introductions are the proper 
 thing. My name s Bascom. I m housekeeper for 
 Miss Ruth Graham. This is Miss Graham." 
 
 11 149
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 The young lady offered a hand. Brown took it. 
 
 " Graham ? " he repeated. " Where ? " Then, 
 remembering a portion of what Seth had told him, 
 he added, " I see! the the artist? " 
 
 " My brother is an artist. He and his friend, 
 Mr. Hamilton, own this bungalow. They arc 
 abroad this summer, and I am going to camp here 
 for a few weeks Mrs. Bascom and I. I paint a 
 little, too, but only for fun." 
 
 Brown murmured a conventionality concerning 
 his delight at meeting the pair, and once more 
 headed for the door. But Mrs. Bascom s curiosity 
 would not permit him to escape so easily. 
 
 " I thought," she said, " when I see you standin 
 over there by the lights, that you must be one of 
 the keepers. Not the head keeper I knew you 
 wa n t him but an assistant, maybe. But I guess 
 you re only a visitor, Mister Mister ?" 
 
 " Brown." 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Brown. I guess you ain t no keeper, 
 are you ? " 
 
 u I am the assistant keeper at present. Yes." 
 
 "You don t say!" Mrs. Bascom looked sur 
 prised. So, too, did Miss Graham. " You don t 
 look like a lighthouse keeper," continued the 
 former. Oh, I don t mean your clothes ! " notic- 
 
 150
 
 ing the young man s embarrassed glance at his wet 
 and far from immaculate garments. " I mean the 
 way you talk and act. You ain t been here long, 
 have you ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 44 Just come this summer? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I thought so. You ain t a Cape Codder? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " I was sure you wa n t. Where do you come 
 from?" 
 
 Brown hesitated. Miss Graham, noticing his 
 hesitation, hastened to end the inquisition. 
 
 " Mr. Brown can t stop to answer questions, 
 Mrs. Bascom," she said. " I m sure he wants to 
 get back to his work. Good morning, Mr. Brown. 
 No doubt we shall see each other often, being the 
 only neighbors in sight. Call again do. I sol 
 emnly promise that you shall have to fight no more 
 wasps." 
 
 " Say ! " The stout woman took a step forward. 
 " Speakin of wasps . . . stand still a minute, 
 Mr. Brown, won t you. What s them lumps on 
 your forehead? Why, I do believe you ve been 
 bit. You have, sure and sartin ! " 
 
 Miss Graham was very much concerned. " Oh,
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 no!" she exclaimed; "I hope not. Let me 
 see." 
 
 " No, indeed ! " The assistant was on the step 
 by this time and moving rapidly. " Nothing at all. 
 No consequence. Good morning." 
 
 He almost ran down the hill and crossed the 
 creek at the wading place. As he splashed through, 
 the voice of the housekeeper reached his ears. 
 
 " Cold mud s the best thing," she screamed. 
 " Put it on thick. It takes out the smart. Good 
 and thick, mind! " 
 
 For the next hour or two the lightkeeper s helper 
 moved about his household tasks in a curious frame 
 of mind. He was thoroughly angry or thought 
 he was and very much disturbed. Neighbors of 
 any kind were likely to be a confounded nuisance, 
 but two women! Heavens! And the stout 
 woman was sure to be running in for calls and to 
 borrow things. As for the other, she seemed a 
 nice girl enough, but he never wanted to see an 
 other girl, nice or otherwise. Her eyes were pretty, 
 so was her hair, but what of it? Oh, hang the 
 luck ! Just here he banged his swollen forehead 
 on the sharp edge of the door, and found relief in 
 profanity. 
 
 Seth Atkins was profane, also, when he heard 
 152
 
 NEIGHBORS AND WASPS 
 
 the news. Brown said nothing until his superior 
 discovered with his own eyes that the bungalow 
 was open. Then, in answer to the lightkeeper s 
 questions, came the disclosure of the truth. 
 
 "Women!" roared Seth. "You say there s 
 two women goin to live there ? By Judas ! I don t 
 believe it 1 " 
 
 " Go and see for yourself, then," was the 
 brusque answer. 
 
 " I sha n t, neither. Who told you? " 
 
 " They did." 
 
 " They did? Was you there ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 What for? I thought you swore never to go 
 nigh a woman again." 
 
 " I did, but well, it wasn t my fault. I " 
 
 "Yes? Goon." 
 
 " I went because I couldn t help myself. Went 
 to help some one else, in fact. I expected to find 
 Graham and that other artist. But " 
 
 " Well, go on." 
 
 " I was stung," said Mr. Brown, gloomily, and 
 rubbed his forehead.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE BUNGALOW GIRL 
 
 DURING the following day the occupants 
 of the lightkeeper s dwelling saw little 
 or nothing of the newcomers at the 
 bungalow. Brown, his forehead resembling a 
 section of a relief map of the Rocky Moun 
 tains, remained indoors as much as possible, work 
 ing when there was anything to do, and read 
 ing back-number magazines when there was not. 
 Seth went, as usual, to his room soon after 
 noon. His slumbers must, however, have been fit 
 ful ones, for several times the substitute assistant, 
 turning quickly, saw the bedroom door swing si 
 lently shut. The third time that this happened he 
 ran to the door and threw it open in season to catch 
 Mr. Atkins in an undignified dive for the bed. A 
 tremendous snore followed the dive. The young 
 man regarded him in silence for a few moments, 
 during which the snores continued. Then he shook 
 his head. 
 
 154
 
 THE BUNGALOW GIRL 
 
 "Humph!" he soliloquized; "I must phone 
 for the doctor at once. Either the doctor or the 
 superintendent. If he has developed that habit, 
 he isn t fit for this job." 
 
 He turned away. The slumberer stirred uneas 
 ily, rolled over, opened one eye, and sat up. 
 
 " Hi ! " he called. " Come back here ! Where 
 you goin ? " 
 
 Brown returned, looking surprised and anxious. 
 
 44 Oh! " he exclaimed, " are you awake? " 
 
 44 Course I m awake ! What a fool question that 
 is. Think I m settin up here and talkin in my 
 sleep?" 
 
 " Well, I didn t know." 
 
 14 Why didn t you know? And, see here! what 
 did you mean by sayin you was goin to phone the 
 doctor or the superintendent, one or t other? Yes, 
 you said it. I heard you." 
 
 44 Oh, no! you didn t." 
 
 44 Tell you I did. Heard you with my own 
 ears." 
 
 14 But how could you? You weren t awake." 
 
 44 Course I was awake! Couldn t have heard 
 you unless I was, could I ? What ails you ? Them 
 stings go clear through to your brains, did they? " 
 
 Again Brown shook his head. 
 
 155
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " This is dreadful ! " he murmured. " He walks 
 in his sleep, and snores when he s awake. I must 
 call the doctor." 
 
 " What what " The lightkeeper s wrath 
 
 was interfering with his utterance. He swung his 
 legs over the side of the bed and sputtered incoher 
 ently. 
 
 " Be calm, Atkins," coaxed the assistant. " Don t 
 complicate your diseases by adding heart trouble. 
 Three times today I ve caught you peeping at me 
 through the crack of that door. Within fifteen 
 seconds of the last peep I find you snoring. There 
 fore, I say " 
 
 " Aw, belay ! I was only only just lookin out 
 to see what time it was." 
 
 " But you must have done it in your sleep, be 
 cause " 
 
 " I never. I was wide awake as you be." 
 
 " But why did you snore? You couldn t have 
 fallen asleep between the door and the bed. And 
 you hadn t quite reached the bed when I got here." 
 
 " I II Aw, shut up ! " 
 
 Brown smiled blandly. " I will," he said, " pro 
 vided you promise to keep this door shut and don t 
 do any more spying." 
 
 " Spyin ? What do you mean by that? "
 
 THE BUNGALOW GIRL 
 
 Just what I said. You and I had a discussion 
 concerning that same practice when I fell over the 
 bank at the Slough a while ago. I was not spying 
 then, but you thought I was, and you didn t like it. 
 Now I think you are, and / don t like it." 
 
 Wh what what would I be spy in on you 
 for? Wh what reason would I have for doin 
 it?" 
 
 14 No good reason; because I have no intention 
 of visiting our new neighbors none whatever. 
 That being understood, perhaps you ll shut the 
 door and keep it shut." 
 
 Seth looked sheepish and guilty. 
 
 Well," he said, after a moment s reflection, 
 " I beg your pardon. But I couldn t help feelin 
 kind of uneasy. I I ought to know better, I 
 s pose ; but, with a young, good-lookin girl landed 
 unexpected right next to us, I I " 
 
 " How did you know she was good-looking? I 
 didn t mention her looks." 
 
 " No, you didn t, but but . . . John 
 Brown, I ve been young myself, and I know that 
 at your age most any girl s good-lookin . There ! " 
 
 He delivered this bit of wisdom with emphasis 
 and a savage nod of the head. Brown had no an 
 swer ready, that is, no relevant answer. 
 
 157
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " You go to bed and shut the door," he repeated, 
 turning to go. 
 
 " All right, I will. But don t you forget our 
 agreement." 
 
 " I have no intention of forgetting it." 
 
 What are you goin to do? " 
 
 " Do ? What do you mean ? " 
 
 " I mean what are you goin to do now that 
 things down here s changed, and you and me ain t 
 alone, same as we was? " 
 
 " I don t know. I m not sure that I sha n t leave 
 clear out." 
 
 What? Clear out? Run away and leave me 
 alone to to ... By time ! I didn t think you 
 was a deserter." 
 
 The substitute assistant laughed bitterly. 
 You needn t worry," he said. " I couldn t go 
 far, even if I wanted to. I haven t any money." 
 
 1 That s so." Seth was evidently relieved. 
 "All right," he observed; "don t you worry. 
 Twon t be but a couple of months anyway, and 
 we ll fight it through together. But ain t it a 
 shame ! Ain t it an everlastin shame that this had 
 to happen just as we d come to understand each 
 other and was so contented and friendly ! Well, 
 there s only one thing to do; that s to make the 
 
 158
 
 THE BUNGALOW GIRL 
 
 best of it for us and the worst for them. We ll 
 keep to ourselves and pay no attention to em no 
 more n if they wa n t there. We ll forget em 
 altogether; hey? ... I say we ll forget em 
 altogether, won t we? " 
 
 Brown s answer was short and sharp. 
 
 Yes," he said, and slammed the door behind 
 him. Seth slowly shook his head before he laid 
 it on the pillow. He was not entirely easy in his 
 mind, even yet. 
 
 However, there was no more spying, and the 
 lightkeeper did not mention the bungalow tenants 
 when he appeared at supper time. After the meal 
 he bolted to the lights, and was on watch in the 
 tower when his helper retired. 
 
 Early the next afternoon Brown descended the 
 path to the boathouse. He had omitted his swim 
 the day before. Now, however, he intended to 
 have it. Simply because those female nuisances 
 had seen fit to intrude where they had no business 
 was no reason why he should resign all pleasure. 
 He gave a quick glance upward at the opposite 
 bank as he reached the wharf. There was no sign 
 of life about the bungalow. 
 
 He entered the boathouse, undressed, and 
 donned his bathing suit. In a few minutes he was 
 
 159
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 ready, and, emerging upon the wharf, walked 
 briskly back along the shore of the creek to where 
 it widened into the cove. There he plunged in, 
 and was soon luxuriating in the cool, clear water. 
 
 He swam with long, confident strokes, those of 
 a practiced swimmer. This was worth while. It 
 was the one place where he could forget that he 
 was no longer the only son of a wealthy father, 
 heir to a respected name which was not Brown 
 a young man with all sorts of brilliant prospects; 
 could forget that he was now a disinherited vaga 
 bond, a loafer who had been unable to secure a re 
 spectable position, an outcast. He swam and dove 
 and splashed, rejoicing in his strength and youth 
 and the freedom of all outdoors. 
 
 Then, as he lay lazily paddling in deep water, he 
 heard the rattle of gravel on the steep bank of the 
 other side of the cove. Looking up, he saw, to his 
 huge disgust, a female figure in a trim bathing suit 
 descending the bluff from the bungalow. It was 
 the girl who had left him to fight the wasps. Her 
 dark hair was covered with a jauntily tied colored 
 handkerchief, and, against the yellow sand of the 
 bluff, she made a very pretty picture. Not that 
 Brown was interested, but she did, nevertheless. 
 
 She saw him and waved a hand. " Good morn- 
 160
 
 ing," she called. " Beautiful day for a swim, isn t 
 it?" 
 
 Yes," growled the young man, brusquely. He 
 turned and began to swim in the opposite direction, 
 up the cove. The girl looked after him, raised a 
 puzzled eyebrow, and then, with a shrug, waded 
 into the water. The next time the assistant looked 
 at her, she was swimming with long, sweeping 
 strokes down the narrow creek to the bend and the 
 deep hole at the end of the wharf. Round that 
 bend and through that hole the tide whirled, like a 
 rapid, out into the miniature bay behind Black 
 Man s Point. It was against that tide that Seth 
 Atkins had warned him. 
 
 And the girl was swimming directly toward the 
 dangerous narrows. Brown growled an exclama 
 tion of disgust. He had no mind to continue the 
 acquaintance, and yet he couldn t permit her to do 
 that. 
 
 " Miss Graham ! " he called. " Oh, Miss Gra 
 ham ! " 
 
 She heard him, but did not stop. 
 
 Yes?" she called in answer, continuing to 
 swim. "What is it?" 
 
 " You mustn t shouted Brown. Then he 
 remembered that he must not shout. Shouting 
 
 161
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 might awaken the lightkeeper, and the latter would 
 misunderstand the situation, of course. So he cut 
 his warning to one word. 
 
 "Wait!" he called, and began swimming 
 toward her. She did not come to meet him, but 
 merely ceased swimming and turned on her back 
 to float. And, floating, the tide would carry her 
 on almost as rapidly as if she assisted it. That 
 tide did not need any assistance. Brown swung on 
 his side and settled into the racing stroke, the 
 stroke which had won him cups at the athletic 
 club. 
 
 He reached her in a time so short that she was 
 surprised into an admiring comment. 
 
 " Oh ! " she exclaimed, " you can swim! " 
 
 He did not thank her for the compliment. 
 There was no time for that, even if he had felt 
 like it. 
 
 You shouldn t be here," he said sharply. 
 
 She looked at him. 
 
 " Why, what do you mean? " she demanded. 
 
 " It isn t safe. A little farther, and the tide 
 would carry you out to sea. Come back, back up 
 to the cove at once." 
 
 He expected her to ask more questions, but she 
 did not. Instead she turned and struck out in si- 
 
 162
 
 THE BUNGALOW GIRL 
 
 lence. Against the tide, even there, the pull was 
 tremendous. 
 
 "Shall I help you? "he asked. 
 
 " No, I can make it." 
 
 And she did. It was his turn to be surprised 
 into admiration. 
 
 " By Jove ! " he panted, as they swung into the 
 quiet water of the cove and stood erect in the shal 
 lows, " that was great ! You are a good swimmer." 
 
 Thank you," she answered, breathlessly. " It 
 was a tug, wasn t it? Thank you for warning me. 
 Now tell me about the dangerous places, please." 
 
 He told her, repeating Seth s tales of the tide s 
 strength. 
 
 " But it is safe enough here?" she asked. 
 
 " Oh, yes! perfectly safe anywhere this side of 
 the narrow part the creek." 
 
 " I m so glad. This water is glorious, and I 
 began to be afraid I should have to give it up." 
 
 " The creek, and even the bay itself are safe 
 enough at flood," he went on. " I often go there 
 then. When the tide is coming in it is all right 
 even for " 
 
 He paused. She finished the sentence for him. 
 " Even for a girl, you were going to say." She 
 waded forward to where the shoal ended and the 
 
 163
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 deeper part began. There she turned to look at 
 him over her shoulder. 
 
 14 I m going to that beach over there," she said, 
 pointing across the cove. " Do you want to 
 race?" 
 
 Without waiting to see whether he did or not, 
 she struck out for the beach. And, without stop 
 ping to consider why he did it, the young man fol 
 lowed her. 
 
 The race was not so one-sided. Brown won it by 
 some yards, but he had to work hard. His com 
 petitor did not give up when she found herself 
 falling behind, but was game to the end. 
 
 " Well," she gasped, " you beat me, didn t you ? 
 I never could get that side stroke, and it s ever so 
 much faster." 
 
 44 It s simple enough. Just a knack. I ll teach 
 you if you like." 
 
 " Will you ? That s splendid." 
 
 41 You are the strongest swimmer, Miss Graham, 
 for a girl, that I ever saw. You must have prac 
 ticed a great deal." 
 
 44 Yes, Horace my brother taught me. He 
 is a splendid swimmer, one of the very best." 
 
 44 Horace Graham ? Why, you don t mean Hor 
 ace Graham of the Harvard Athletic? " 
 
 164
 
 THE BUNGALOW GIRL 
 
 " Yes, I do. He is my brother. But how . . . 
 Do you know him? " 
 
 The surprise in her tone was evident. Brown 
 bit his lip. He remembered that Cape Cod light- 
 keepers helpers were not, as a usual thing, sup 
 posed to be widely acquainted in college athletic 
 circles. 
 
 " I have met him," he stammered. 
 
 " But where " she began; and then, " why, of 
 course ! you met him here. I forgot that he has 
 been your neighbor for three summers." 
 
 The assistant had forgotten it, too, but he was 
 thankful for the reminder. 
 
 Yes. Yes, certainly," he said. She regarded 
 him with a puzzled look. 
 
 " It s odd he didn t mention you," she observed. 
 " He has told me a great deal about the bungalow, 
 and the sea views, and the loneliness and the 
 quaintness of it all. That was what made me wish 
 to spend a month down here and experience it my 
 self. And he has often spoken," with an irrepres 
 sible smile, " of your of the lightkeeper, Mr. At 
 kins. That is his name, isn t it? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I want to meet him. Horace said he was 
 well, rather odd, but, when you knew him, a fine 
 12 165
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 fellow and full of dry humor. I m sure I should 
 like him." 
 
 Brown smiled, also and broadly. He mentally 
 pictured Seth s reception of the news that he was 
 " liked " by the young lady across the cove. And 
 then it occurred to him, with startling suddenness, 
 that he had been conversing very familiarly with 
 that young lady, notwithstanding the solemn inter 
 change of vows between the lightkeeper and him 
 self. 
 
 "I must be going," he said hastily; "good 
 morning, Miss Graham." 
 
 He waded to the shore and strode rapidly back 
 toward the boathouse. His companion called after 
 him. 
 
 " I shall expect you to-morrow afternoon," she 
 said. You ve promised to teach me that side 
 stroke, remember." 
 
 Brown dressed in a great hurry and climbed the 
 path to the lights at the double quick. All was 
 safe and serene in the house, and he breathed more 
 freely. Atkins was sound asleep, really asleep, in 
 the bedroom, and when he emerged he was evi 
 dently quite unaware of his helper s unpremedi 
 tated treason. Brown s conscience pricked him, 
 however, and he went to bed that night vowing 
 
 166
 
 over and over that he would be more careful there 
 after. He would take care not to meet the Graham 
 girl again. Having reached this decision, there re 
 mained nothing but to put her out of his mind en 
 tirely; which he succeeded in doing at a quarter 
 after eleven, when he fell asleep. Even then she 
 was not entirely absent, for he dreamed a ridicu 
 lous dream about her. 
 
 Next day he did not go for a swim, but remained 
 in the house. Seth, at supper, demanded to know 
 what ailed him. 
 
 You re as mum as the oldest inhabitant of a 
 deaf and dumb asylum," was the lightkeeper s 
 comment. " And ugly as a bull in fly time. What 
 ails you? " 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " Humph ! better take somethin for it, seems 
 to me. Little Stomach Balm, hey? No? Well, 
 go to bed ! Your room s enough sight better n 
 your company just now." 
 
 The helper s ill nature was in evidence again 
 at breakfast time. Seth endeavored to joke him 
 out of it, but, not succeeding, and finding his 
 best jokes received with groans instead of laugh 
 ter, gave it up in disgust and retired. The young 
 man cleared the table, piled the dishes in the
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 sink, heated a kettleful of water and began the 
 day s drudgery, drudgery which he once thought 
 was fun. 
 
 Why had he had the ill luck to fall overboard 
 from that steamer. Or why didn t he drown when 
 he did fall overboard? Then he would have been 
 comfortably dead, at all events. Why hadn t he 
 stayed in New York or Boston or somewhere and 
 kept on trying for a position, for work any kind 
 of work? He might have starved while trying, 
 but people who were starving were self-respecting, 
 and when they met other people for instance, sis 
 ters of fellows they used to know had nothing to 
 be ashamed of and needn t lie unless they wanted 
 to. He was a common loafer, under a false name, 
 down on a sandheap washing dishes. At this point 
 he dropped one of the dishes a plate and broke 
 it. 
 
 " D n ! " observed John Brown, under his 
 breath, but with enthusiasm. 
 
 He stooped to pick up the fragments of the plate, 
 and, rising once more to an erect position, found 
 himself facing Miss Ruth Graham. She was 
 standing in the doorway. 
 
 " Don t mind me, please," she said. " No doubt 
 I should feel the same way if it were my plate." 
 
 1 68
 
 Don t mind me, please, she said."
 
 THE BUNGALOW GIRL 
 
 The young man s first move, after recovery, was 
 to make sure that the door between the kitchen 
 and the hall leading to the lightkeeper s bedroom 
 was shut. It was, fortunately. The young lady 
 watched him in silence, though her eyes were shin 
 ing. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Brown," she observed, 
 gravely. 
 
 The assistant murmured a good morning, from 
 force of habit. 
 
 There s another piece you haven t picked up," 
 continued the visitor, pointing. 
 
 Brown picked up the piece. 
 
 " Is Mr. Atkins in? " inquired the girl. 
 
 41 Yes, he s he s in." 
 
 " May I see him, please? " 
 < j j 
 
 " If he s busy, I can wait." She seated her 
 self in a chair. " Don t let me interrupt you," 
 she continued. " You were busy, too, weren t 
 you?" 
 
 " I was washing dishes," declared Brown, sav 
 agely. 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 4 Yes. Washing and sweeping and doing scrub 
 woman s work are my regular employments." 
 
 169
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " Indeed ! Then I m just in time to help. Is 
 this the dish towel? " regarding it dubiously. 
 
 " It is, but I don t need any help, thank you." 
 
 " Of course you do. Everyone is glad to be 
 helped at doing dishes. I may as well make 
 myself useful while I m waiting for Mr. At 
 kins." 
 
 She picked up a platter and proceeded to wipe 
 it, quite as a matter of course. Brown, swearing 
 inwardly, turned fiercely to the suds. 
 
 " Did you wish to see Atkins on particular busi 
 ness?" he asked, a moment later. 
 
 "Oh, no; I wanted to make his acquaintance, 
 that s all. Horace told me so many interesting 
 things about him. By the way, was it last sum 
 mer, or the summer before, that you met my 
 brother here? " 
 
 No answer. Miss Graham repeated her ques 
 tion. " Was it last summer or the summer be 
 fore? " she asked. 
 
 " Oh er I don t remember. Last summer, I 
 think." 
 
 ;< Why, you must remember. How could any 
 one forget anything that happened down here? 
 So few things do happen, I should say. So you 
 met him last summer? " 
 
 170
 
 THE BUNGALOW GIRL 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Hum! that s odd." 
 
 " Shall I call Atkins? He s in his room." 
 
 " I say it is odd, because, when Mrs. Bascom 
 and I first met you, you told us this was your first 
 summer here." 
 
 There wasn t any answer to this; at least the as 
 sistant could think of none at the moment. 
 
 "Do you wish me to call Atkins?" he 
 asked, sharply. " He s asleep, but I can wake 
 him." 
 
 u Oh ! he s asleep. Now I understand why you 
 whisper even when you sw that is, when you 
 break a plate. You were afraid of waking him. 
 How considerate you are." 
 
 Brown put down the dishcloth. u It isn t alto 
 gether consideration for him or for myself," he 
 said grimly. " I didn t care to wake him unless 
 you took the responsibility." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because, Miss Graham, Seth Atkins took the 
 position of lightkeeper here almost for the sole 
 reason that no women ever came here. Mr. At 
 kins is a woman-hater of the most rabid type. I ll 
 wake him up if you wish, but I won t be responsible 
 for the consequences." 
 
 171
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 The young lady stared at him in surprise, de 
 lighted surprise apparently, judging by the expres 
 sion of her face. 
 
 "A woman-hater?" she repeated. "Is he 
 really?" 
 
 " He is." Mr. Brown neglected to add that he 
 also had declared himself a member of the same 
 fraternity. Perhaps he thought it was not neces 
 sary. 
 
 " A woman-hater!" Miss Graham fairly bub 
 bled with mischievous joy. " Oh, jolly! now I m 
 crazy to meet him ! " 
 
 The assistant moved toward the hall door. 
 " Very good ! " he observed with grim determina 
 tion. " I think he ll cure your lunacy." 
 
 His hand was outstretched toward the latch, 
 when the young lady spoke again. 
 
 " Wait a minute," she said. " Perhaps I had 
 better not wake him now." 
 
 " Just as you say. The pleasure is or will be 
 entirely mine, I assure you." 
 
 " No o. On the whole, I think I ll wait until 
 later. I may call again. Good morning." 
 
 She moved across the threshold. Then, stand 
 ing on the mica slab which was the step to the 
 kitchen door, she turned to say: 
 
 172
 
 THE BUNGALOW GIRL 
 
 * You didn t swim yesterday." 
 
 " No o. I I was busy." 
 
 " I see." 
 
 She paused, as if expecting him to say something 
 further on the subject. He was silent. Her man 
 ner changed. 
 
 " Good morning," she said, coldly, and walked 
 off. The assistant watched her as she descended 
 the path to the cove, but she did not once look 
 back. Brown threw himself into a chair. He had 
 never hated anyone as thoroughly as he hated him 
 self at the moment. 
 
 " What a cheerful liar she must think I am," 
 he reflected. " She caught me in that fool yarn 
 about meeting her brother here last summer; and 
 now, after deliberately promising to teach her that 
 stroke, I don t go near her. What a miserable liar 
 she must think I am! And I guess I am. By 
 George, I can t be such a cad. I ve got to make 
 good somehow. I must give her one lesson. I 
 must." 
 
 The tide served for bathing about three that 
 afternoon. At ten minutes before that hour the 
 substitute assistant keeper of Eastboro Twin- 
 Lights tiptoed silently to the bedroom of his su 
 perior and peeped in. Seth was snoring peacefully. 
 
 173
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 Brown stealthily withdrew. At three, precisely, 
 he emerged from the boathouse on the wharf, clad 
 in his bathing suit. 
 
 Fifteen minutes after three, Seth Atkins, in his 
 stocking feet and with suspicion in his eye, crept 
 along the path to the edge of the bluff. Crouching 
 behind a convenient sand dune he raised his head 
 and peered over it. 
 
 Below him was the cove, its pleasant waters a 
 smooth, deep blue, streaked and bordered with pale 
 green. But the water itself did not interest Seth. 
 In that water was his helper, John Brown, of no 
 where in particular, John Brown, the hater of fe 
 males, busily engaged in teaching a young woman 
 to swim. 
 
 Atkins watched this animated picture for some 
 minutes. Then, carefully crawling back up to 
 the path until he was well out of possible sight 
 from the cove, he rose to his feet, raised both 
 hands, and shook their clenched fists above his 
 head. 
 
 "The liar!" grated Mr. Atkins, between his 
 teeth. "The traitor! The young blackguard! 
 After tellin me that he ... And after my 
 doin everything for him that . . . Oh, by 
 Judas, wait! only wait till he comes back! / // 
 
 174
 
 THE BUNGALOW GIRL 
 
 1 arn him ! / // show him ! Oh, by jiminy 
 crimps ! " 
 
 He strode toward the doorway of the kitchen. 
 There he stopped short. A woman was seated in 
 the kitchen rocker; a stout woman, with her back 
 toward him. The room, in contrast to the bright 
 sunshine without, was shadowy, and Seth, for an 
 instant, could see her but indistinctly. However, 
 he knew who she must be the housekeeper at the 
 bungalow " Basket " or " Biscuit " his helper had 
 said was her name, as near as he could remember it. 
 The lightkeeper ground his teeth. Another female ! 
 Well, he would teach this one a few things! 
 
 He stepped across the threshold. 
 
 " Ma am," he began, sharply, " perhaps you ll 
 tell me what you " 
 
 He stopped. The stout w r oman had, at the 
 sound of his step, risen from the chair, and turned 
 to face him. And now she was staring at him, 
 her face almost as white as the stone-china cups 
 and saucers on the table. 
 
 "Why . . . why . . . Sethi" she gasped. 
 
 The lightkeeper staggered back until his shoul 
 ders struck the doorpost. 
 
 "Good Lord! "he cried; "good . . . Lord! 
 Why why Emeline! " 
 
 175
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 For over a minute the pair stared at each other, 
 white and speechless. Then Mrs. Bascom hurried 
 to the door, darted out, and fled along the path 
 around the cove to the bungalow. Atkins did not 
 follow her; he did not even look in the direction 
 she had taken. Instead, he collapsed in the rock 
 ing-chair and put both hands to his head.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE BUNGALOW WOMAN 
 
 WHEN, an hour later, the swimming 
 teacher, his guilty conscience pricking 
 him, and the knowledge of having 
 been false to his superior strong within him, came 
 sneaking into the kitchen, he was startled and 
 horrified to find the lightkeeper awake and dressed. 
 Mentally he braced himself for the battery of em 
 barrassing questions which, he felt sure, he should 
 have to answer. It might be that he must face 
 something more serious than questions. Quite pos 
 sible Seth, finding him absent, had investigated 
 and seen. Well, if he had, then he had, that was 
 all. The murder would be out, and Eastboro 
 Twin-Lights would shortly be shy a substitute as 
 sistant keeper. 
 
 But there were no embarrassing questions. At 
 kins scarcely noticed him. Seated in the rocker, 
 he looked up as the young man entered, and imme- 
 
 177
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 diately looked down again. He seemed to be in 
 a sort of waking dream and only dimly conscious 
 of happenings about him. 
 
 " Hello! " hailed the assistant, with an assump 
 tion of casual cheerfulness. 
 
 " Hey? Oh! how be you? " was Mr. Atkins s 
 reply. 
 
 " I ve been for my dip," explained Brown. 
 u The water was fine to-day." 
 
 " Want to know ! " 
 
 4 You re up early, aren t you? " 
 
 44 Hey? Yes, I guess likely I be." 
 
 What s wrong? Not sick, are you?" 
 
 14 No. Course I ain t sick. Say ! " Seth seemed 
 to take a sudden interest in the conversation, " you 
 come straight up from the cove, have you?" 
 
 "Yes. Why?" 
 
 4 You ain t been hangin around outside here, 
 have you? " 
 
 14 Hanging around outside? What do you 
 mean? " 
 
 4 Nothin . Why do you stand there starin at 
 me as if I was some sort of dime show curiosity? 
 Anything queer about me? " 
 
 44 No. I didn t know I was staring." The 
 young man was bewildered by this strange behav- 
 
 178
 
 THE BUNGALOW WOMAN 
 
 ior. He was prepared for suspicion concerning 
 his own actions; but Seth seemed rather to be de 
 fending himself from suspicion on the part of his 
 helper. 
 
 " Humph! " The llghtkeeper looked keenly at 
 him for a moment. Then he said : 
 
 " Well, ain t there nothin to do but stand 
 around? Gettin pretty nigh to supper time, ain t 
 it? Put the kettle on and set the table." 
 
 It was not supper time, but Brown obeyed or 
 ders. Seth went to cooking. He spoke perhaps 
 three words during the culinary operations, and a 
 half dozen more during the meal, of which he ate 
 scarcely a mouthful. After it was over, he put 
 on his cap and went out, not to his usual lounging 
 spot, the bench, but to walk a full half mile along 
 the edge of the bluff and there sit in the seclusion 
 of a clump of bayberry bushes and gaze stonily at 
 nothing in particular. Here he remained until the 
 deepening dusk reminded him that it was time the 
 lights were burning. Returning, he lit the lanterns 
 and sat down in the room at the top of the left- 
 hand tower to think, and think, and think. 
 
 The shadows deepened; the last flush of twilight 
 faded from the western sky; the stars came out; 
 night and the black silence of night shrouded East- 
 
 179
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 boro Twin-Lights. The clock in the tower room 
 ticked on to nine and then to ten. Still Seth sat, 
 a huddled, dazed figure in the camp chair, by the 
 great lantern. At last he rose and went out on the 
 iron balcony. He looked down at the buildings 
 below him; they were black shapes without a glim 
 mer. Brown had evidently gone to bed. In the 
 little stable Joshua thumped the side of his stall 
 once or twice dreaming, perhaps, that he was 
 again pursued by the fly-papered Job and sub 
 sided. Atkins turned his gaze across the inlet. In 
 the rear window of the bungalow a dim light still 
 burned. As he watched, it was extinguished. He 
 groaned aloud, and, with his arms on the railing, 
 thought and thought. 
 
 Suddenly he heard sounds, faint, but perceptible, 
 above the low grumble of the surf. They were 
 repeated, the sounds of breaking sticks, as if some 
 one was moving through the briers and bushes be 
 yond the stable. Some one was moving there, com 
 ing along the path from the upper end of the cove. 
 Around the corner of the stable a bulky figure ap 
 peared. It came on until it stood beneath the bal 
 cony. 
 
 "Seth," called a low voice; "Seth, are you 
 there?"
 
 THE BUNGALOW WOMAN 
 
 For a moment the agitated lightkeeper could not 
 trust his voice to answer. 
 
 " Seth," repeated the voice; " Seth." 
 
 The figure was moving off in the direction of 
 the other tower. Then Seth answered. 
 
 " Here here I be," he stammered, in a hoarse 
 whisper. "Who is it?" 
 
 He knew who it was, perfectly well; the question 
 was quite superfluous. 
 
 " It s me," said the voice. " Let me in, I ve got 
 to talk to you." 
 
 Slowly, scarcely certain that this was not a part 
 of some dreadful nightmare, Seth descended the 
 iron ladder to the foot of the tower, dragged his 
 faltering feet to the door, and slowly swung it 
 open. The bulky figure entered instantly. 
 
 " Shut the door," said Mrs. Bascom. 
 
 "Hey? What?" stammered Seth. 
 
 " I say, shut that door. Hurry up ! Land sakes, 
 hurry! Do you suppose I want anybody to know 
 I m here?" 
 
 The lightkeeper closed the door. The clang re 
 verberated through the tower like distant thunder. 
 The visitor started nervously. 
 
 "Mercy!" she exclaimed; "what a racket! 
 What made you slam it? " 
 18 181
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " Didn t," grumbled Seth. " Any kind of a 
 noise sounds up in here." 
 
 " I should think as much. It s enough to wake 
 the dead." 
 
 "Ain t nobody but the dead to wake in this 
 place." 
 
 44 Yes, there is; there s that young man of yours, 
 that Brown one. He ain t dead, is he? " 
 
 " Humph ! he s asleep, and that s next door to 
 dead with him." 
 
 " Well, I m glad of it. My nerves are pretty 
 steady as a general thing, but I declare I m all of 
 a twitter to-night and no wonder. It s darker 
 than a pocket in here. Can t we have a light? " 
 
 Atkins stumbled across the stone floor and took 
 the lantern from the hook by the stairs. He struck 
 a match, and it went out; he tried another, with the 
 same result. Mrs. Bascom fidgeted. 
 
 " Mercy on us! " she cried; " what does ail the 
 thing?" 
 
 Seth s trembling fingers could scarcely hold the 
 third match. He raked it across the whitewashed 
 wall and broke the head short off. 
 
 Thunder to mighty!" he snarled, under his 
 breath. 
 
 44 But what does " 
 
 182
 
 THE BUNGALOW WOMAN 
 
 ;< What does? What do you s pose? You ain t 
 the only one that s got nerves, are you? " 
 
 The next trial was successful, and the lantern 
 was lighted. With it in his hand, he turned and 
 faced his caller. They looked at each other. Mrs. 
 Bascom drew a long breath. 
 
 " It is you," she said. " I couldn t scarcely be 
 lieve it. It is really you." 
 
 Seth s answer was almost a groan. " It s you," 
 he said. " You down here." 
 
 This ended the conversation for another minute. 
 Then the lady seemed to awake to the realities of 
 the situation. 
 
 Yes," she said, " it s me and it s you. We re 
 here, both of us. Though why on earth you should 
 be, I don t know." 
 
 "Me? Me? Why, I belong here. But you 
 what in time sent you here ? Unless," with return 
 ing suspicion, " you came because I 
 
 He paused, warned by the expression on his call 
 er s face. 
 
 What was that? " she demanded. 
 
 " Nothin ." 
 
 " Nothin , I guess. If you was flatterin your 
 self with the idea that I came here to chase after 
 you, you never was more mistaken in your life, or 
 
 183
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 ever will be. You set down. You and I have got 
 to talk. Set righ$ down." 
 
 The lightkeeper hesitated. Then he obeyed or 
 ders by seating himself on an oil barrel lying on 
 its side near the wall. The lantern he placed on 
 the floor at his feet. Mrs. Bascom perched on one 
 of the lower steps of the iron stairs. 
 
 " Now," she said, " we ve got to talk. Seth Bas 
 com " 
 
 Seth started violently. 
 
 " What is it? " asked the lady. " Why did you 
 jump like that? Nobody comin , is there? " 
 
 " No. No ... But I couldn t help jumpin 
 when you called me that name." 
 
 That name? It s your name, isn t it? Oh," 
 she smiled slightly; " I remember now. You ve 
 taken the name of Atkins since we saw each other 
 last." 
 
 " I didn t take it; it belonged to me. You know 
 my middle name. I just dropped the Bascom, 
 that s all." 
 
 " I see. Just as you dropped some other re 
 sponsibilities. Why didn t you drop the whole 
 christenin and start fresh? Why did you hang on 
 to Seth ? " 
 
 The lightkeeper looked guilty. Mrs. Bascom s 
 184
 
 THE BUNGALOW WOMAN 
 
 smile broadened. " I know," she went on. " You 
 didn t really like to drop it all. It was too much 
 of a thing to do on your hook, and there wasn t 
 anybody to tell you to do it, and so you couldn t 
 quite be spunky enough to " 
 
 He interrupted her. " That wa n t the reason, * 
 he said shortly. 
 
 ;< What was the reason ? " 
 
 * You want to know, do you? " 
 
 11 Yes, I do." 
 
 " Well, the * Bascom part wa n t mine no more 
 not all mine. I d given it to you." 
 
 " O oh ! oh, I see. And you ran away from 
 your name as you ran away from your wife. I see. 
 And . . . why, of course ! you came down here 
 to run away from all the women. Miss Ruth said 
 this mornin she was told I don t know who by 
 that the lightkeeper was a woman-hater. Are 
 you the woman-hater, Seth? " 
 
 Mr. Atkins looked at the floor. " Yes, I be," 
 he answered, sullenly. " Do you wonder?" 
 
 " I don t wonder at your runnin away; that I 
 should have expected. But there," more briskly, 
 u this ain t gettin us anywhere. You re here and 
 I m here. Now what s your idea of the best thing 
 to be done, under the circumstances? " 
 
 185
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 Seth shifted his feet. " One of us better 
 go somewheres else, if you ask me," he de 
 clared. 
 
 " Run away again, you mean? Well, I sha n t 
 run away. I m Miss Ruth s housekeeper for the 
 summer. I answered her advertisement in the Bos 
 ton paper and we agreed as to wages and so on. 
 I like her and she likes me. Course if I d known 
 my husband was in the neighborhood, I shouldn t 
 have come here; but I didn t know it. Now I m 
 here and I ll stay my time out. What are you 
 goin to do? " 
 
 " I m goin to send in my resignation as keeper 
 of these lights. That s what I m goin to do, and 
 I ll do it to-morrow." 
 
 " Run away again? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 Why? Why? Emeline Bascom, do you ask 
 me that?" 
 
 " I do, yes. See here, Seth, we ain t children, 
 nor sentimental young folks. We re sensible, or 
 we d ought to be. Land knows we re old enough. 
 I shall stay here and you ought to. Nobody knows 
 I was your wife or that you was my husband, and 
 nobody needs to know it. We ain t even got the 
 
 186
 
 THE BUNGALOW WOMAN 
 
 same names. We re strangers, far s folks know, 
 and we can stay strangers." 
 
 " But but to see each other every day 
 and " 
 
 "Why not? We ve seen each other often enough 
 so that the sight won t be so wonderful. And we ll 
 keep our bein married a secret. I sha n t boast of 
 it, for one." 
 
 " But but to see each other " 
 
 " Well, we needn t see each other much. Why, 
 we needn t see each other any, unless I have to run 
 over to borrer somethin , same as neighbors have 
 to every once in a while. I can guess what s trou- 
 blin you; it s young Brown. You ve told him 
 you re a woman-hater, haven t you ? " 
 
 " Yes, I have." 
 
 " Humph! Is he one, too?" 
 
 The lightkeeper s mouth was twisted with a vio 
 lent emotion. He remembered his view of that 
 afternoon s swimming lesson. 
 
 " He said he was," he snarled. " He pretends 
 he is." 
 
 Mrs. Bascom smiled. " I want to know," she 
 said. " Umph ! I thought . . . However, it s 
 no matter. Perhaps he is. Anyhow he can pretend 
 to be and you can pretend to believe him. That ll 
 
 187
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 be the easiest way, I guess. Of course," she added, 
 " I ain t tellin you what to do with any idea that 
 you ll do it because I say so. The time for that is 
 all past and gone. But it seems to me that, for 
 once in my life, I d be man enough to stick it out. 
 I wouldn t run away again." 
 
 Seth did not answer. He scowled and stared at 
 the circle of lantern light on the stone floor. Mrs. 
 Bascom rose from her seat on the stairs. 
 
 " Well," she observed, " I must be gettin back 
 to the house if I want to get any sleep to-night. I 
 doubt if I get much, for a body don t get over a 
 shock, such as I ve had, in a minute. But I m goin 
 to get over it and I m goin to stay right here and 
 do my work; I m goin to go through with what 
 seems to be my duty, no matter how hard it is. 
 I ve done it afore, and I ll do it again. I ve prom 
 ised, and I keep my promises. Good night." 
 
 She started toward the door. Her husband 
 sprang from the oil barrel. 
 
 " Hold on," he cried; " you wait a minute. I ve 
 got somethin to say." 
 
 She shook her head. " I can t wait," she said; 
 " I ve got to go." 
 
 " No, you ain t, neither. You can stay a spell 
 longer, if you want to." 
 
 188
 
 THE BUNGALOW WOMAN 
 
 " Perhaps, but I don t want to." 
 
 "Why not? What are you afraid of?" 
 
 "Afraid! I don t know as I m afraid of any 
 thing that is," with a contemptuous sniff, " noth- 
 in I see around here." 
 
 Then what are you runnin away for? " 
 
 This was putting the matter in a new light. Mrs. 
 Bascom regarded her husband with wrathful 
 amazement, which slowly changed to an amused 
 smile. 
 
 " Oh," she said, u if you think I m runnin away, 
 why " 
 
 " I don t see what else tis. If I ain t scart to 
 have you here, I don t see why you should be scart 
 to stay. Set down on them stairs again ; I want to 
 talk to you." 
 
 The lady hesitated an instant and then returned 
 to her former seat. Seth went back to his barrel. 
 
 " Emeline," he said. " I ll stay here on my 
 job." 
 
 She looked surprised, but she nodded. 
 
 " I m glad to hear it," she said. " I m glad 
 you ve got that much spunk." 
 
 Yup ; well, I have. I came down here to get 
 clear of everybody, women most of all. Now the 
 
 one woman that that " 
 
 189
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 That you specially wanted to get clear 
 of " 
 
 "No! No I that ain t the truth, and you know 
 it. She set out to get clear of me and I let her 
 have her way, same as I done in everything else." 
 
 " She didn t set out to get clear of you." 
 
 " She did." 
 
 " No, she didn t." 
 
 " I say she did." 
 
 Mrs. Bascom rose once more. " Seth Bascom," 
 she declared, " if all you wanted me to stay here 
 for is to be one of a pair of katydids, hollerin at 
 each other, I m goin . I m no bug; I m a woman." 
 
 " Emeline, you set down. You ve hove out a 
 whole lot of hints about my not bein a man be 
 cause I run away from your house. Do you think 
 I d have been more of a man if I d stayed in it? 
 Stayed there and been a yaller dog to be kicked out 
 of one corner and into another by you and and 
 that brother-in-law of yours. That s all I was a 
 dog." 
 
 " Humph! if a dog s the right breed and big 
 enough it s his own fault if he s kicked twice." 
 
 " Not if he cares more for his master than he 
 does for himself taint." 
 
 " Why, yes, it is. He can make his master re- 
 190
 
 THE BUNGALOW WOMAN 
 
 spect him by provin he ain t the kind of dog to 
 kick. And maybe one of his masters his real mas 
 ter, for he hadn t ought to have but one might 
 be needin the right kind of watchdog around 
 the house. Might be in trouble her himself, I 
 mean; and be hopin and prayin for the dog 
 to protect her him, I should say. And then 
 the " 
 
 " Emeline, what are you talkin about? " 
 
 " Oh, nothin , nothin . Seth, what s the use of 
 us two settin here at twelve o clock at night and 
 quarrelin over what s past and settled? I sha n t 
 do it, for one. / don t want to quarrel with you." 
 
 Seth sighed. " And I don t want to quarrel with 
 you, Emeline," he agreed. " As you say, there s 
 no sense in it. Dear ! dear ! this, when you come to 
 think of it, is the queerest thing altogether that 
 ever was in the world, I guess. Us two had all 
 creation to roam round in, and we landed at East- 
 boro Twin-Lights. It seems almost as if Provi 
 dence done it, for some purpose or other." 
 
 "Yes; or the other critter, for his purposes. 
 How did you ever come to be keeper of a light, 
 Seth?" 
 
 Why why I don t know. I used to be ia 
 the service, fore I went to sea much. You re- 
 
 191
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 member I told you I did. And I sort of drifted 
 down here. I didn t care much what became of 
 me, and I wanted a lonesome hole to hide in, and 
 this filled the bill. I ve been here ever since I left 
 left where I used to be. But, Emeline, how 
 did you come here? You answered an advertise 
 ment, you told me ; but why ? " 
 
 4 Cause I wanted to do somethin to earn my 
 livin . I was alone, and I rented my house and 
 boarded. But boardin ain t much comfort, spe 
 cially when you board where everybody knows you, 
 and knows your story. So I " 
 
 "Wait a minute. You was alone, you say? 
 Where was was he?" 
 
 "He?" 
 
 " Yes. You know who I mean." 
 
 He would not speak the hated name. His wife 
 spoke it for him. 
 
 "Bennie?" she asked. "Oh, he ain t been 
 with me for most two year now. He he went 
 away. He s in New York now. And I was alone 
 and I saw Miss Graham s advertisement for a 
 housekeeper and answered it. I needed the money 
 and " 
 
 " Hold on ! You needed the money ? Why, 
 you had money." 
 
 192
 
 THE BUNGALOW WOMAN 
 
 " Abner left me a little, but it didn t last forever. 
 
 And " 
 
 You had more n a little. I wrote to bank 
 folks there and turned over my account to you. 
 And I sent em a power of attorney turnin over 
 some stocks you know what they was to you, 
 too. I done that soon s I got to Boston. Didn t 
 they tell you ?" 
 
 " Yes, they told me." 
 
 Well, then, that ought to have helped along." 
 
 You don t s pose I took it, do you ? " 
 
 "Why why not?" 
 
 " Why not ! Do you s pose I d use the money 
 that belonged to the husband that run off and left 
 me? I ain t that kind of a woman. The money 
 and stocks are at the bank yet, I s pose; anyhow 
 they re there for all of me." 
 
 The lightkeeper s mouth opened and stayed open 
 for seconds before he could use it as a talking ma 
 chine. He could scarcely believe what he had 
 heard. 
 
 " But but I wanted you to have it," he gasped. 
 " I left it for you." 
 
 " Well, I didn t take it; tain t likely ! " with fiery 
 indignation. " Did you think I could be bought off 
 like a a mean oh, I don t know what? " 
 
 193
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " But but I left it at the bank for you. 
 What what ll I do with it?" 
 
 " I don t know, I m sure. You might give it to 
 Sarah Ann Christy; I wouldn t wonder if she was 
 less particular than I be." 
 
 Seth s guns were spiked, for the moment. He 
 felt the blood rush to face, and his fists, as he 
 brandished them in the air, trembled. 
 
 " I I you you " he stammered. "I I 
 you think I " 
 
 He knew that his companion would regard his 
 agitation as an evidence of conscious guilt, and this 
 knowledge did not help to calm him. He strode 
 up and down the floor. 
 
 " Look out," said Mrs. Bascom, coldly, " you ll 
 kick over the lantern." 
 
 Her husband stopped in his stride. " Darn the 
 lantern ! " he shouted. 
 
 " S-sh-sh ! you ll wake up the Brown man." 
 
 This warning was more effective. But Seth was 
 still furious. 
 
 " Emeline Bascom," he snarled, shaking his fore 
 finger in her face, " you ve said over and over that 
 I wa n t a man. You have, haven t you?" 
 
 She was looking at his shirt cuff, then but a few 
 inches from her nose. 
 
 194
 
 THE BUNGALOW WOMAN 
 
 " Who sewed on that button? " she asked. 
 
 This was so unexpected that his wrath was, for 
 the instant, displaced by astonishment. 
 
 " What ? " he asked. " What button ? " 
 
 " That one on your shirt sleeve. Who sewed it 
 on?" 
 
 " Why, I did, of course. What a crazy question 
 that is!" 
 
 She smiled. " I guessed you did," she said. 
 " Nobody but a man would sew a white button on 
 a white shirt or one that was white once with 
 black thread." 
 
 He looked at the button and then at her. His 
 anger returned. 
 
 " You said I wa n t a man, didn t you? " he de 
 manded. 
 
 " Yes, I did. But I ll have to take part of it 
 back. You re half a man anyhow; that sewin 
 proves it." 
 
 " Huh ! I want to know. Well, maybe I ain t 
 a man; maybe I m only half a one. But I ain t a 
 fool! I ain t a fool!" 
 
 She sighed wearily. " Well, all right," she ad 
 mitted. " I sha n t argue it." 
 
 You needn t. I ain t or anyhow I ain t an 
 everlastin fool. And nobody but the everlastin - 
 
 195
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 est of all fools would chase Sarah Ann Christy. / 
 didn t. That whole business was just one of your 
 your Bennie D. s lies. You know that, too." 
 
 " I know some one lied; I heard em. They de 
 nied seein Sarah Ann, and I saw em with her 
 with my own eyes I saw em. . . . But there, 
 there," she added ; " this is enough of such talk. 
 I m goin now." 
 
 " I didn t lie; I forgot." 
 
 " All right, then, you forgot. I ain t jealous, 
 Seth. I wa n t even jealous then. Even then I give 
 you a chance, and you didn t take it you forgot * 
 instead. I m goin back to the bungalow, but afore 
 I go let s understand this : you re to stay here at the 
 lights, and I stay where I am as housekeeper. We 
 don t see each other any oftener than we have to, 
 and then only when nobody else is around. We 
 won t let my Miss Graham nor your Brown nor 
 anybody know we ve ever met afore or are 
 meetin now. Is that it?" 
 
 Seth hesitated. " Yes," he said, slowly, " I 
 guess that s it. But," he added, anxiously, " I 
 I wish you d be specially careful not to let that 
 young feller who s workin for me know. Him 
 
 and me had a a sort of agreement and and I 
 j " 
 
 196 
 

 
 THE BUNGALOW WOMAN 
 
 " He sha n t know. Good-by." 
 
 She fumbled with the latch of the heavy door. 
 He stepped forward and opened it for her. The 
 night was very dark; a heavy fog, almost a rain, 
 had drifted in while they were together. She 
 didn t seem to notice or mind the fog or blackness, 
 but went out and disappeared beyond the faint 
 radiance which the lantern cast through the open 
 door. She blundered on and turned the corner of 
 the house ; then she heard steps behind her. 
 
 Who is it? " she whispered, in some alarm. 
 
 " Me," whispered the lightkeeper, gruffly. " I ll 
 go with you a ways." 
 
 No, of course you won t. I m goin alone." 
 
 ; It s too dark for you to go alone. You ll lose 
 the way." 
 
 I m goin alone, I tell you ! Go back. I don t 
 want you." 
 
 " I know you don t; but I m goin . You ll fetch 
 up in the cove or somewheres if you try to navigate 
 this path on your own hook." 
 
 " I sha n t. I m used to findin my own way, 
 and I m goin alone as I ve had to do for a good 
 while. Go back." 
 
 She stopped short. Seth stopped, also. 
 
 " Go back," she insisted, adding scornfully: " I 
 14 197
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 don t care for your help at all. I m particular about 
 my company." 
 
 " I ain t," sullenly. " Anyhow, I m goin to pi 
 lot you around the end of that cove. You sha n t 
 say I let you get into trouble when I might have 
 kept you out of it." 
 
 " Say? Who would I say it to? Think I m so 
 proud of this night s cruise that I ll brag of it? 
 Will you go back? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 They descended the hill, Mrs. Bascom in ad 
 vance. She could not see the path, but plunged an 
 grily on through the dripping grass and bushes. 
 
 " Emeline Emeline," whispered Seth. She 
 paid no attention to him. They reached the foot 
 of the slope and suddenly the lady realized that 
 her shoes, already wet, were now ankle deep in 
 water. And there seemed to be water amid the 
 long grass all about her. 
 
 "Why? What in the world?" she exclaimed 
 involuntarily. " What is it? " 
 
 " The salt marsh at the end of the cove," an 
 swered the lightkeeper. " I told you you d fetch 
 up in it if you tried to go alone. Been tryin to 
 tell you you was off the track, but you wouldn t 
 listen to me." 
 
 198
 
 THE BUNGALOW WOMAN 
 
 And she would not listen to him now. Turning, 
 she splashed past him. 
 
 " Hold on," he whispered, seizing her arm. 
 " That ain t the way." 
 
 She shook herself from his grasp. 
 
 " Will you let me be, and mind your own busi 
 ness? " she hissed. 
 
 " No, I won t. I ve set out to get you home, 
 and I ll do it if I have to carry you." 
 
 "Carry me? You? "You dare!" 
 
 His answer was to pick her up in his arms. She 
 was no light weight, and she fought and wriggled 
 fiercely, but Seth was big and strong and he held 
 her tight. She did not scream ; she was too anxious 
 not to wake either the substitute assistant or Miss 
 Graham, but she made her bearer all the trouble she 
 could. They splashed on for some distance; then 
 Seth set her on her feet, and beneath them was dry 
 ground. 
 
 There!" he grumbled, breathlessly. "Now 
 I cal late you can t miss the rest of it. There s the 
 bungalow right in front of you." 
 
 You you " she gasped, chokingly. 
 
 u Ugh ! " grunted her husband, and stalked off 
 into the dark.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 BEHIND THE SAND DUNE 
 
 A FOG last night, wasn t there ? " inquired 
 Brown. Breakfast was over, and Seth 
 was preparing for his day s sleep. 
 " Yes, some consider ble," was the gruff an 
 swer; then, more sharply, " How d you know? 
 Twas all gone this mornin ." 
 " Oh, I guessed, that s all." 
 "Humph! Guessed, hey? You wa n t up in 
 the night, was you? " 
 
 " No. Slept like a top all through." 
 "Humph! . . . Well, that s good; sleep s a 
 good thing. Cal late I ll turn in and get a little 
 myself." 
 
 He moved toward the living room. At the 
 door he paused and asked another question. 
 
 " How d you er guess there was fog last 
 night?" he inquired. 
 
 "Oh, that was easy; everything grass and 
 200
 
 BEHIND THE SAND DUNE 
 
 bushes were so wet this morning. Those boots 
 of yours, for example," pointing to the pair the 
 lightkeeper had just taken off, " they look as if 
 you had worn them wading." 
 
 His back was toward his superior as he spoke, 
 therefore he did not see the start which the latter 
 gave at this innocent observation, nor the horrified 
 glare at the soaked boots. But he could not help 
 noticing the change in Seth s voice. 
 
 " Wa wadin ? " repeated Atkins faintly. 
 " What s that you say? " 
 
 " I said the boots were as wet as if you had been 
 wading. Why?" 
 
 " Wha what made you say a fool thing like 
 that? How could I go wadin on top of a light 
 house? " 
 
 "I don t know. . . . There, there!" impa 
 tiently, " don t ask any more questions. I didn t 
 say you had been wading, and I didn t suppose you 
 really had. I was only joking. What is the mat 
 ter with you? " 
 
 " Nothin . . . nothin . So you was just jok- 
 in , hey? Ha, ha! Yes, yes, wadin up in a light 
 house would be a pretty good joke. I I didn t 
 see it at first, you know. Ha, ha ! I thought you 
 must be off your head. Thought you d been swim- 
 
 201
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 min too much or somethin . So long, I m goin* 
 to bed." 
 
 But now it was the helper s turn to start and 
 stammer. 
 
 " Wait ! " he cried. " What what did you say 
 about my er swimming, was it?" 
 
 " Oh, nothin , nothin . I was just jokin , same 
 as you was about the wadin . Ha, ha ! " 
 
 "Ha, ha!" 
 
 Both laughed with great heartiness. The door 
 shut between them, and each stared doubtfully at 
 his side of it for several moments before turning 
 away. 
 
 That forenoon was a dismal one for John 
 Brown. His troublesome conscience, stirred by 
 Seth s reference to swimming, was again in full 
 working order. He tried to stifle its reproaches, 
 tried to give his entire attention to his labors about 
 the lights and in the kitchen, but the consciousness 
 of guilt was too strong. He felt mean and trait 
 orous, a Benedict Arnold on a small scale. He had 
 certainly treated Atkins shabbily; Atkins, the man 
 who trusted him and believed in him, whom he 
 had loftily reproved for " spying " and then be 
 trayed. Yet, in a way his treason, so far, had been 
 unavoidable. He had promised had even offered 
 
 202
 
 BEHIND THE SAND DUNE 
 
 to teach the Graham girl the " side stroke." He 
 had not meant to make such an offer or promise, 
 but Fate had tricked him into it, and he could not, 
 as a gentleman, back out altogether. He had been 
 compelled to give her one lesson. But he need 
 not give her another. He need not meet her again. 
 He would not. He would keep the agreement 
 with Seth and forget the tenants of the bungalow 
 altogether. Good old Atkins! Good old Seth, 
 the woman-hater ! How true he was to his creed, 
 the creed which he, Brown, had so lately pro 
 fessed. It was a good creed, too. Women were 
 at the bottom of all the world s troubles. They 
 deserved to be hated. He would never, never 
 
 " Well, by George ! " he exclaimed aloud. 
 
 He was looking once more at the lightkeeper s 
 big leather boots. One of them was lying on its 
 side, and the upturned sole and heel were thickly 
 coated with blue clay. He crossed the room, 
 picked up the boots and examined them. Each was 
 smeared with the clay. He put them down again, 
 shook his head, wandered over to the rocking-chair 
 and sat down. 
 
 Seth had cleaned and greased those boots be 
 fore he went to bed the day before; Brown had 
 seen him doing it. He had put them on after 
 
 203
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 supper, just before going on watch; the substitute 
 assistant had seen him do that, also. Therefore, 
 the clay must have been acquired sometime dur 
 ing the evening or night just past. And certainly 
 there was no clay at the " top of the lighthouse," 
 or anywhere in the neighborhood except at one 
 spot the salt marsh at the inner end of the cove. 
 Seth must have visited that marsh in the nighttime. 
 But why? And, if he had done so, why did he 
 not mention the fact? And, now that the helper 
 thought of it, why had he been so agitated at the 
 casual remark concerning wading? What was he 
 up to? Now that the Daisy M. and story of the 
 wife were no longer secrets, what had Seth Atkins 
 to conceal? 
 
 Brown thought and guessed and surmised, but 
 guesses and surmises were fruitless. He finished 
 his dishwashing and began another of the loathed 
 housekeeping tasks, that of rummaging the pantry 
 and seeing what eatables were available for his 
 luncheon and the evening meal. 
 
 He spread the various odds and ends on the 
 kitchen table, preparatory to taking account of 
 stock. A part of a slab of bacon, a salt codfish, 
 some cold clam fritters, a few molasses cookies, 
 and half a loaf of bread. He had gotten thus fav 
 
 204
 
 BEHIND THE SAND DUNE 
 
 In the inventory when a shadow darkened the door 
 way. He turned and saw Mrs. Bascom, the 
 bungalow housekeeper. 
 
 " Good mornin ," said Mrs. Bascom. 
 
 Brown answered coldly. Why on earth was it 
 always his luck to be present when these female 
 nuisances made their appearance? And why 
 couldn t they let him alone, just as he had deter 
 mined to let them alone in the future? Of 
 course he was glad that the caller was not Miss 
 Graham, but this one was bad enough. 
 
 " Morning," he grunted, and took another dish, 
 this one containing a section of dry and ancient 
 cake, Seth s manufacture, from the pantry. 
 
 1 What you doin ? Gettin breakfast this time 
 of day?" asked the housekeeper, entering the 
 kitchen. She had a small bowl in her hand. 
 
 " No," replied Brown. 
 
 "Dinner, then? Pretty early for that, ain t 
 it?" 
 
 " I am not getting either breakfast or dinner 
 or supper, madam," replied the helper, with em 
 phasis. " Is there anything I can do for you? " 
 
 Well, I don t know but there is. I come over 
 hopin you might. How s the stings?" 
 
 44 The what?" 
 
 205
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " The wasp bites." 
 
 u They re all right, thank you." 
 
 " You re welcome, I m sure. Did you put the 
 cold mud on em, same as I told you to? " 
 
 " No. . . . What was it you wanted? " 
 
 Mrs. Bascom looked about for a seat. The 
 rocker was at the opposite side of the room, and 
 the other chair contained a garment belonging to 
 Mr. Atkins, one which that gentleman, with char 
 acteristic disregard of the conventionalities, had 
 discarded before leaving the kitchen and had for 
 gotten to take with him. The lady picked up 
 the garment, looked at it, and sat down in the 
 chair. 
 
 "Your boss is to bed, I s pose likely?" she 
 asked. 
 
 You mean Mr. Atkins? I suppose likely he 
 is." 
 
 " Um. I judged he was by " with a glance at 
 the garment which she still held " the looks of 
 things. What in the world are you doin cleanin 
 house?" 
 
 The young man sighed wearily. Yes," he 
 said with forced resignation, " something of that 
 sort." 
 
 " Seein what there was to eat, I guess." 
 206
 
 BEHIND THE SAND DUNE 
 
 " You guess right. You said you had an errand, 
 I think." 
 
 " Did I ? Well, I come to see if I couldn t . . . 
 What s that stuff? Cake?" 
 
 She rose, picked up a slice of the dry cake, broke 
 it between her fingers, smelled of it, and replaced it 
 on the plate. 
 
 Tis cake, ain t it? " she observed; " or it was, 
 sometime or other. Who made it? You? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Oh, your boss, Mr. er Atkins, hey?" 
 
 Yes. Considering that there are only two of 
 us here, and I didn t make it, it would seem pretty 
 certain that he must have." 
 
 "Yes, I guess that s right; unless twas some 
 that washed ashore from Noah s Ark, and it s too 
 dry for that. What on earth are these? " picking 
 up one of the molasses cookies; " stove lids? " 
 
 Brown grinned, in spite of his annoyance. 
 
 " Those are supposed to be cookies," he ad 
 mitted. 
 
 " Are they? Yes, yes. Mr. Atkins responsible 
 for them ? " 
 
 " No o. I m afraid those are one of my ex 
 periments, under Mr. Atkins s directions and or 
 ders. I m rather proud of those cookies, myself." 
 
 207
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 "You d ought to be. There, there!" with a 
 smile, " I guess you think I m pretty free with mj" 
 criticism and remarks, don t you? You must ex 
 cuse me. Housekeepin specially the cookin 
 part is my hobby, as you might say, and I was 
 interested to see how a couple of men got along 
 with the job. I mustn t set around and keep you 
 from your work. You might want to make some 
 more cookies, or somethin ." 
 
 The substitute assistant laughed aloud. " I 
 wasn t thinking of it," he said; "but I shall be 
 glad to make the attempt if it would afford you 
 amusement." 
 
 Mrs. Bascom laughed, too. " I guess you re bet 
 ter natured than I thought you was," she observed. 
 " It might amuse me some, I will admit, but I 
 ain t got the time. I came to borrow some butter, 
 if you ve got any to spare. Down here we re as 
 far from supplies as the feller that run the Ark 
 I was mentionin , old Noah himself." 
 
 Brown took the bowl from her hands and went 
 to the pantry to get the butter. When he turned 
 again she was standing by the door, one hand hid 
 den beneath her apron. She took the bowl with 
 the other. 
 
 " Much obliged," she said. " I ll fetch this 
 208
 
 BEHIND THE SAND DUNE 
 
 back soon s the grocery cart comes. Miss Gra 
 ham made arrangements to have him drive 
 across every Saturday. Or, rather, I arranged 
 for it myself. Her head s too full of paintin 
 and scenery to think of much else. I tell her you 
 can t eat an ile paintin unless you re born a 
 goat. Good-by." 
 
 She went away. Brown chuckled and went on 
 with his account of stock. 
 
 Seth " turned out " rather early that day. At 
 half past one he appeared in the kitchen, partially 
 dressed. 
 
 Where in time is my shirt?" he demanded 
 impatiently. 
 
 "Your what?" 
 
 " My shirt. I thought I took it off out here. 
 Could have sworn I did. Guess likely I didn t, 
 though. Must be gettin absent-minded." 
 
 He was on his way back to the bedroom when 
 his helper called. 
 
 " You did take it off out here," he cried. " It 
 was on that chair there. I remember seeing it. 
 Probably it has fallen on the floor somewhere." 
 
 Atkins returned, grumbling that the kitchen 
 floor was a " healthy place to heave a shirt." 
 
 "Where is it?" he asked after a hurried 
 209
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 search. " I can t find it nowheres. Didn t put it 
 in the fire, did ye? " 
 
 " Of course I didn t. I saw it. ... Why, I 
 remember that woman s picking it up when she 
 sat down." 
 
 " Woman ? What woman ? " 
 That Baskin Buskin whatever her name is. 
 The housekeeper at the bungalow." 
 
 " Was she here? " Seth s question was al 
 most a shout. His helper stared at him. 
 
 Yes," he answered; " she was. She came to 
 borrow some butter." 
 
 " To to borrow butter? " 
 
 " Why, yes. You didn t think I invited her in 
 for a morning call, did you? Don t act as if you 
 had been struck by lightning. It s not so very 
 serious. We ve got to expect some trouble of that 
 kind. I got rid of her as soon as I could." 
 
 "You you did?" 
 
 " Yes, I did. You should thank me. I am on 
 duty during the day, and I suppose most of that 
 sort of thing will fall on me. You re lucky. Our 
 neighbors aren t likely to make many calls after 
 dark. . . . What s the matter now? Why are 
 you looking at me like that? " 
 
 Seth walked to the door and leaned against the 
 210
 
 BEHIND THE SAND DUNE 
 
 post. Brown repeated his question. " What is 
 the matter? " he asked. You act just as you did 
 when I first happened into this forsak this place. 
 If you ve got any more hideous secrets up your 
 sleeve I m going to quit." 
 
 " Secrets! " Atkins laughed, or tried to. " I 
 ain t got any secrets," he declared, :< any more than 
 you have." 
 
 The latter half of this speech shut off further 
 questioning. Brown turned hastily away, and the 
 lightkeeper went into his bedroom and finished 
 dressing. 
 
 "Find your shirt?" asked the young man an 
 hour or so later. 
 
 "Hey? Yes, yes; I found it." 
 
 " In your room? That s odd. I could have 
 sworn I saw it out here. Is that it you re wear- 
 ing?" 
 
 " Hey ? No. That was was sort of s iled, so I 
 put on my other one. I I cal late I ll go over and 
 work on the Daisy M. a spell, unless you need me." 
 
 " I don t need you. Go ahead." 
 
 The time dragged for John Brown after his 
 superior s departure. There was work enough to^ 
 be done, but he did not feel like doing it. He 
 wandered around the house and lights, gloomy, 
 
 211
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 restless and despondent. Occasionally he glanced 
 at the clock. 
 
 It was a beautiful afternoon, just the afternoon 
 for a swim, and he was debarred from swimming, 
 not only that day, but for all the summer days to 
 come. No matter what Seth s new secret might be, 
 it was surely not connected with the female sex, and 
 Brown would be true to the solemn compact be 
 tween them. He could not bathe in the cove be 
 cause Miss Graham would be there. 
 
 At four o clock he stood in the shadow of the 
 light tower looking across the cove. As he looked 
 he saw Miss Graham, in bathing attire, emerge 
 from the bungalow and descend the bluff. She did 
 not see him and, to make sure that she might not, 
 he dodged back out of sight. Then he saw some 
 thing else. 
 
 Out on the dunes back of the barn he caught a 
 glimpse of a figure darting to cover behind a clump 
 of bushes. The figure was a familiar one, but 
 what was it doing there ? He watched the bushes, 
 but they did not move. Then he entered the house, 
 went upstairs, and cautiously peered from the back 
 attic window. 
 
 The bushes remained motionless for some min 
 utes. Then they stirred ever so slightly, and above 
 
 212
 
 BEHIND THE SAND DUNE 
 
 them appeared the head of Seth Atkins. Seth 
 seemed to be watching the cove and the lights. 
 For another minute he peered over the bushes, first 
 at the bathing waters below and then at his own 
 dwelling. Brown ground his teeth. The light- 
 keeper was " spying " again, was watching to see 
 if he violated his contract. 
 
 But no, that could not be, for now Seth, ap 
 parently sure that the coast was clear, emerged 
 from his hiding place and ran in a stooping pos 
 ture until he reached another clump further off and 
 nearer the end of the cove. He remained there 
 an instant and then ran, still crouching, until he 
 disappeared behind a high dune at the rear of the 
 bungalow. And there he stayed; at least Brown 
 did not see him come out. 
 
 What he did see, however, was just as astonish 
 ing. The landward door of the bungalow opened,, 
 and Mrs. Bascom, the housekeeper, stepped out 
 into the yard. She seemed to be listening and 
 looking. Apparently she must have heard some 
 thing, for she moved away for some little dis 
 tance and stood still. Then, above the edge of the 
 dune, showed Seth s head and arm. He beckoned 
 to her. She walked briskly across the intervening 
 space, turned the ragged, grass-grown corner of 
 15 213
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 the knoll and disappeared, also. Brown, scarcely 
 believing his eyes, waited and watched, but he saw 
 no more. Neither Seth nor the housekeeper came 
 out from behind that dune. 
 
 But the substitute assistant had seen enough 
 quite enough. Seth Atkins, Seth, the woman-hater, 
 the man who had threatened him with all sorts of 
 penalties if he ever so much as looked at a female, 
 was meeting one of the sex himself, meeting her 
 on the sly. What it meant Brown could not imag 
 ine. Probably it explained the clay smears on the 
 boots and Seth s discomfiture of the morning; but 
 that was immaterial. The fact, the one essential 
 fact, was this : the compact was broken. Seth had 
 broken it. Brown was relieved of all responsi 
 bility. If he wished to swim in that cove, no mat 
 ter who might be there, he was perfectly free to 
 do it. And he would do it, by George ! He had 
 been betrayed, scandalously, meanly betrayed, and 
 it would serve the betrayer right if he paid him 
 in his own coin. He darted down the attic stairs, 
 ran down the path to the boathouse, hurriedly 
 changed his clothes for his bathing suit, ran along 
 the shore of the creek and plunged in. 
 
 Miss Graham waved a hand to him as he shook 
 the water from his eyes. 
 
 2*4
 
 BEHIND THE SAND DUNE 
 
 Over behind the sand dune a more or less in 
 teresting interview was taking place. Seth, having 
 made sure that his whistles were heard and his 
 signals seen, sank down in the shadow and awaited 
 developments. They were not long in coming. A 
 firm footstep crunched the sand, and Mrs. Bascom 
 appeared. 
 
 " Well," she inquired coldly, " what s the mat 
 ter now? " 
 
 Mr. Atkins waved an agitated hand. 
 
 " Set down," he begged. " Scooch down out of 
 sight, Emeline, for the land sakes. Don t stand 
 up there where everybody can see you." 
 
 The lady refused to " scooch." 
 
 " If I ain t ashamed of bein seen," she ob 
 served, " I don t know why you should be. What 
 are you doin over here anyhow; skippin round 
 in the sand like a hoptoad? " 
 
 The lightkeeper repeated his plea. 
 
 " Do set down, Emeline, please," he urged. " I 
 thought you and me d agreed that nobody d ought 
 to see us together." 
 
 Mrs. Bascom gathered her skirts about her and 
 with great deliberation seated herself upon a hum 
 mock. 
 
 ;< We did have some such bargain," she re- 
 215
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 plied. That s why I can t understand your 
 hidin at my back door and whistlin and wavin 
 like a young one. What did you come here for, 
 anyway? " 
 
 Seth answered with righteous indignation. 
 
 " I come for my shirt," he declared. 
 
 "Your shirt?" 
 
 " Yes, my other shirt. I left it in the kitchen 
 this mornin , and that that helper of mine says 
 you was in the chair along with it." 
 
 " Humph ! Did he have the impudence to say 
 I took it?" 
 
 " No o. No, course he didn t. But it s gone 
 and and " 
 
 "What would I want of your shirt? Didn t 
 think I was cal latin to wear it, did you? " 
 
 - No, but " 
 
 " I should hope not. I ain t a Doctor Mary 
 Walker, or whatever her name is." 
 
 " But you did take it, just the same. I m sartin 
 you did. You must have." 
 
 The lady s mouth relaxed, and there was a twin 
 kle in her eye. 
 
 "All right, Seth," she said. "Suppose I did; 
 what then? " 
 
 " I want it back, that s all." 
 216
 
 BEHIND THE SAND DUNE 
 
 11 You can have it. Now what do you s pose Z 
 took it for? " 
 
 " I I I don t know." 
 
 "You don t know? Humph! Did you think 
 I wanted to keep it as a souveneer of last night s 
 doin s?" 
 
 Her companion looked rather foolish. He 
 picked up a handful of sand and sifted it through 
 his fingers. 
 
 " No o," he stammered. " I I know how 
 partic lar you are you used to be about such 
 things, and I thought maybe you didn t like the 
 way that button was sewed on." 
 
 He glanced up at her with an embarrassed smile, 
 which broadened as he noticed her expression. 
 
 Well," she admitted, " you guessed right. 
 There s some things I can t bear to have in my 
 neighborhood, and your kind of sewin is one of 
 em. Besides, I owed you that much for keepin 
 me out of the wet last night." 
 
 " Oh ! I judged by the way you lit into me for 
 luggin you acrost that marsh that all you owed 
 me was a grudge. I did lug you, though, in spite 
 of your kickin , didn t I? " 
 
 He nodded with grim triumph. She smiled. 
 You did, that s a fact," she said. " I was 
 217
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 pretty mad at the time, but when I come to think 
 it over I felt diff rent. Anyhow I ve sewed on 
 those buttons the way they d ought to be." 
 
 " Much obliged. I guess they ll stay now for 
 a spell. You always could sew on buttons better n 
 anybody ever I see." 
 
 " Humph ! " . . . Then, after an interval of 
 silence: What are you grinnin to yourself 
 about?" 
 
 " Hey? . . . Oh, I was just thinkin how you 
 mended up that Rogers young one s duds when he 
 fell out of our Bartlett pear tree. He was the 
 raggedest mess ever I come acrost when I picked 
 him up. Yellin like a wild thing he was, and his 
 clothes half tore off." 
 
 " No wonder he yelled. Caught stealin pears 
 he expected to be thrashed for that and he 
 knew Melindy Rogers would whip him for tearin 
 his Sunday suit. Poor little thing ! Least I could 
 do was to make his clothes whole. I always pity a 
 child with a stepmother, special when she s Me- 
 lindy s kind." 
 
 " What s become of them Rogerses? Still livin 
 in the Perry house, are they? " 
 
 " No. Old Abel Perry turned em out of that 
 when the rent got behind. He s the meanest skin- 
 
 218
 
 BEHIND THE SAND DUNE 
 
 flint that ever strained skim milk. He got mar 
 ried again a year ago." 
 
 " No! Who was the victim? Somebody from 
 the Feeble-Minded Home? " 
 
 She gave the name of Mr. Perry s bride, and 
 before they knew it the pair were deep in village 
 gossip. For many minutes they discussed the 
 happenings in the Cape Ann hamlet, and then Seth 
 was recalled to the present by a casual glance at 
 his watch. 
 
 "Land!" he exclaimed. "Look at the time! 
 This talk with you has seemed so so natural and 
 old-timey, that . . . Well, I ve got to go." 
 
 He was scrambling to his feet. She also at 
 tempted to rise, but found it difficult. 
 
 " Here," he cried, " give me your hand. I ll 
 help you up." 
 
 " I don t want any help. Let me alone. Let 
 me alone, I tell you." 
 
 His answer was to seize her about the w r aist and 
 swing her bodily to her feet. She was flushed and 
 embarrassed. Then she laughed shortly and shook 
 her head. 
 
 What are you laughin at?" he demanded, 
 peering over the knoll to make sure that neither 
 John Brown nor Miss Graham was in sight. 
 
 219
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " Oh, not much," she answered. " You kind of 
 Xirprise me, Seth." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Cause you ve changed so." 
 
 "Changed? How?" 
 
 " Oh, changed, that s all. You seem to have 
 more spunk than you used to have." 
 
 " Humph ! Think so, do you? " 
 
 " Yes, I do. I think bein a lightkeeper must 
 be good for some folks some kind of folks." 
 
 " I want to know! " 
 
 " Yes, you better be careful, or you ll be a real 
 man some day." 
 
 His answer was an angry stare and a snort. 
 Then he turned on his heel and was striding off. 
 
 " Wait ! " she called. " Hold on ! Don t you 
 want your shirt? Stay here, and I ll go into the 
 house and fetch it." 
 
 He waited, sullen and reluctant, until she re 
 turned with the article of apparel in one hand and 
 the other concealed beneath her apron. 
 
 " Here it is," she said, presenting the shirt to 
 him. 
 
 " Thank you," he grumbled, taking it. " Much 
 obliged for sewin on the button." 
 
 " You re welcome. It squares us for your 
 220
 
 BEHIND THE SAND DUNE 
 
 pilotin me over the marsh, that s all. Twa n t 
 any favor; I owed it to you." 
 
 He was turning the shirt over in his hands. 
 
 Well," he began, then stopped and looked 
 fixedly at the garment. 
 
 " I see you ve mended that hole in the sleeve," 
 he said. " You didn t owe me that, did you? " 
 
 She changed color slightly. 
 
 " Oh," she said, with a toss of her head, " that s 
 nothin . Just for good measure. I never could 
 abide rags on anybody that that I had to look at 
 whether I wanted to or not." 
 
 Twas real good of you to mend it, Emeline. 
 Say," he stirred the sand with his boot, " you men 
 tioned that you cal lated I d changed some, was 
 more of a man than I used to be. Do you know 
 why?" 
 
 No. Unless," with sarcasm, " it was because 
 I wa n t around." 
 
 ;< It ain t that. It s because, Emeline, it s be 
 cause down here I m nigher bein where I belong 
 than anywheres else but one place. That place is at 
 sea. When I m on salt water I m a man you 
 don t believe it, but I am. On land I I don t 
 seem to fit in right. Keepin a light like this is 
 next door to bein at sea." 
 
 221
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " Seth, I want to ask you a question. Why didn t 
 you go to sea when you ran when you left me? 
 I s posed of course you had. Why didn t you? " 
 
 He looked at her in surprise. 
 
 " Go to sea ? " he repeated. " Go to sea ? How 
 could I? Didn t I promise you I d never go to 
 sea again? " 
 
 " Was that the reason? " 
 
 "Sartin. What else?" 
 
 She did not answer. There was an odd expres 
 sion on her face. He turned to go. 
 
 " Well, good-by," he said. 
 
 "Good-by. Er Seth." 
 
 " Yes; what is it?" 
 
 " I I want to tell you," she stammered, " that 
 I appreciated your leavin that money and stocks 
 at the bank in my name. I couldn t take em, of 
 course, but twas good of you. I appreciated it." 
 
 " That s all right." 
 
 "Wait. Here! Maybe you d like these." 
 She took the hand from beneath her apron 
 and extended it toward him. It held a pan heaped 
 with objects flat, brown, and deliciously fragrant. 
 He looked at the pan and its contents uncompre- 
 hendingly. 
 
 " What s them? " he demanded. 
 222
 
 BEHIND THE SAND DUNE 
 
 " They re molasses cookies. I ve been bakin , 
 and these are some extry ones I had left over. 
 You can have em if you want em." 
 
 "Why why, Emeline ! this is mighty kind of 
 you." 
 
 " Not a mite," sharply. " I baked a good many 
 more n Miss Ruth and I can dispose of, and that 
 poor helper man of yours ought to be glad to get 
 em after the cast-iron pound-weights that you and 
 he have been tryin to live on. Mercy on us ! the 
 thoughts of the cookies he showed me this mornin 
 have stayed in my head ever since. Made me feel 
 as if I was partly responsible for murder." 
 
 " But it s kind of you, just the same." 
 
 " Rubbish ! I d do as much for a pig any day. 
 There ! you ve got your shirt; now you d better go 
 home." 
 
 She forced the pan of cookies into his hand and 
 moved off. The lightkeeper hesitated. 
 
 ; I I ll fetch the pan back to-morrer," he called 
 after her in a loud whisper.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE LETTER AND THE PHONE 
 
 THE cookies appeared on the table that 
 evening. Brown noticed them at once. 
 
 "When did you bake these?" he 
 asked. 
 
 Atkins made no reply, so the question was re 
 peated with a variation. 
 
 " Did you bake these this afternoon? " inquired 
 the substitute assistant. 
 
 "Humph? Hey? Oh, yes, I guess so. Why? 
 Anything the matter with em? " 
 
 " Matter with them? No. They re the finest 
 things I ve tasted since I came here. New receipt, 
 isn t it?" 
 
 " Cal late so." 
 
 " I thought it must be. I ll take another." 
 He took another, and many others thereafter. 
 He and his superior cleared the plate between them. 
 Brown was prepared for questions concerning 
 224
 
 THE LETTER AND THE PHONE 
 
 his occupation of the afternoon and was ready with 
 some defiant queries of his own. But no occasion 
 arose for either defiance or cross-examination. Seth 
 never hinted at a suspicion nor mentioned the young 
 lady at the bungalow. Brown therefore remained 
 silent concerning what he had seen from the attic 
 window. He would hold that in reserve, and if 
 Atkins ever did accuse him of bad faith or breach 
 of contract he could retort in kind. His con 
 science was clear now he was no more of a traitor 
 than Seth himself and, this being so, he felt de 
 lightfully independent. If trouble came he was 
 ready for it, and in the meantime he should do as 
 he pleased. 
 
 But no trouble came. That day, and for many 
 days thereafter, the lightkeeper was sweetness it 
 self. He and his helper had never been more 
 anxious to please each other, and the house at Twin- 
 Lights was to all appearances an abode of per 
 fect trust and peace. Every day, w r hen Seth was 
 asleep or out of the way, " working on the Daisy 
 M.," the assistant swam to the cove, and every day 
 he met Miss Graham there ! During the first week 
 he returned from his dips expecting to be con 
 fronted by his superior, and ready with counter ac 
 cusations of his own. After this he ceased to care. 
 
 225
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 Seth did not ask a question and was so trustful 
 and unsuspecting that Brown decided his secret 
 was undiscovered. In fact, the lightkeeper was 
 so innocent that the young man felt almost wicked, 
 as if he were deceiving a child. He very nearly 
 forgot the meeting behind the sand dune, hav 
 ing other and much more important things to 
 think of. 
 
 July passed, and the first three weeks of August 
 followed suit. The weather, which had been glo 
 rious, suddenly gave that part of the coast a sur 
 prise party in the form of a three days storm. 
 It was an offshore gale, but fierce, and the light 
 house buildings rocked in its grasp. Bathing was 
 out of the question, and one of Seth s dories broke 
 its anchor rope and went to pieces in the break 
 ers. Atkins and Brown slept but little during the 
 storm, both being on duty the greater part of the 
 time. 
 
 The fourth day broke clear, but the wind had 
 changed to the east and the barometer threatened 
 more bad weather to come. When Seth came in 
 to breakfast he found his helper sound asleep in 
 a kitchen chair, his head on the table. The young 
 man was pretty well worn out. Atkins insisted 
 upon his going to bed for the forenoon. 
 
 226
 
 THE LETTER AND THE PHONE 
 
 11 Of course I sha n t," protested Brown. " It s 
 my watch, and you need sleep yourself." 
 
 " No, I don t, neither," was the decided answer. 
 " I slept between times up in the tower, off and 
 on. You go and turn in. I ve got to drive over 
 to Eastboro by and by, and I want you to be wide 
 awake while I m away. We ain t done with this 
 spell of weather yet. We ll have rain and an east 
 erly blow by night, see if we don t. You go right 
 straight to bed." 
 
 " I shall do nothing of the sort." 
 
 " Yes, you will. I m your boss and I order you 
 to do it. No back talk, now. Go! " 
 
 So Brown went, unwilling but very tired. He 
 was sound asleep in ten minutes. 
 
 Seth busied himself about the house, occasionally 
 stepping to the window to look out at the weather. 
 An observer would have noticed that before leav 
 ing the window on each of these occasions, his gaze 
 invariably turned toward the bungalow. His 
 thoughts were more constant than his gaze; they 
 never left his little cottage across the cove. In 
 fact, they had scarcely left it for the past month. 
 He washed the breakfast dishes, set the room in 
 order, and was turning once more toward the win 
 dow, when he heard a footstep approaching the 
 
 227
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 open door. He knew the step; it was one with 
 which he had been familiar during other and 
 happier days, and now, once more after all the 
 years and his savage determination to forget and 
 to hate it had the power to awaken strange emo 
 tions in his breast. Yet his first move was to run 
 into the living room and close his helper s cham 
 ber door. When he came back to the kitchen, 
 shutting the living-room door carefully behind him, 
 Mrs. Bascom was standing on the sill. She started 
 when she saw him. 
 
 44 Land sakes!" she exclaimed. "You? I 
 cal lated, of course, you was abed and asleep." 
 
 The lightkeeper waved his hands. 
 
 "S-sh-h!" he whispered. 
 
 " What shall I s-sh-h about ? Your young man s 
 gone somewhere, I s pose, else you wouldn t be 
 here." 
 
 " No, he ain t. He s turned in, tired out." 
 
 " Oh, then I guess I d better go back home. 
 Twas him I expected to see, else, of course, I 
 shouldn t have come." 
 
 " Oh, I know that," with a sigh. " Where s 
 your boss, Miss Graham? " 
 
 " She s gone for a walk along shore. I came 
 over to to bring back them eggs I borrowed." 
 
 228
 
 " Did you ? Where are they ? " 
 
 The housekeeper seemed embarrassed, and her 
 plump cheeks reddened. 
 
 " I I declare I forgot to bring em after all," 
 she stammered. 
 
 " I want to know. That s funny. You don t 
 often that is, you didn t use to forget things 
 hardly ever, Emeline." 
 
 " Hum ! you remember a lot, don t you." 
 
 " I remember more n you think I do, Emeline." 
 
 " That s enough of that, Seth. Remember what 
 I told you last time we saw each other." 
 
 " Oh, all right, all right. I ain t rakin up by 
 gones. I s pose I deserve all I m gettin ." 
 
 "I s pose you do. Well, long s I forgot the 
 eggs I guess I might as well be trottin back. . . . 
 You you ve been all right you and Mr. Brown, 
 I mean for the last few days, while the storm 
 was goin on? " 
 
 " Um-h m," gloomily. " How about you two 
 over to the bungalow? You ve kept dry and snug, 
 I judge." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I didn t know but you might be kind of nervous 
 and scart when twas blowin . All alone so." 
 
 " Humph ! I ve got used to bein alone. As 
 
 16 229
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 for Miss Ruth, I don t think she s scart of any- 
 thin ." 
 
 " Well, I was sort of nervous about you, if you 
 wa n t about yourself. Twas consider ble of a 
 gale of wind. I thought one spell I d blow out of 
 the top of the tower." 
 
 "So did I. I could see your shadow movin"round 
 up there once in a while. What made you come out 
 on the gallery in the worst of it night afore last? " 
 
 " Oh, the birds was smashin themselves to 
 pieces against the glass same as they always do in 
 a storm, and I ... But say! twas after 
 twelve when I came out. How d you come to see 
 me ? What was your doin up that time of night ? " 
 
 Mrs. Bascom s color deepened. She seemed put 
 out by the question. 
 
 " So much racket a body couldn t sleep," she 
 explained sharply. " I thought the shingles would 
 lift right off the roof." 
 
 " But you wa n t lookin at the shingles. You 
 was lookin at the lighthouses; you jest said so. 
 Emeline, was you lookin for me ? Was you wor 
 ried about me? " 
 
 He bent forward eagerly. 
 
 " Hush ! " she said, " you ll wake up the other 
 woman-hater." 
 
 230
 
 THE LETTER AND THE PHONE 
 
 " I don t care. I don t care if I wake up all 
 creation. Emeline, I believe you was worried 
 about me, same as I was about you. More n that," 
 he added, conviction and exultation in his tone, 
 44 I don t believe twas eggs that fetched you here 
 this mornin at all. I believe you came to find out 
 if we if I was all right. Didn t you?" 
 
 " I didn t come to see you, be sure of that," 
 with emphatic scorn. 
 
 44 I know. But you was goin to see Brown and 
 find out from him. Answer me. Answer me now, 
 didn t " 
 
 She stepped toward the door. He extended an 
 arm and held her back. 
 
 4 You answer me," he commanded. 
 
 She tried to pass him, but his arm was like an 
 iron bar. She hesitated a moment and then 
 laughed nervously. 
 
 44 You certainly have took to orderin folks 
 round since the old days," she said. 44 Why, yes, 
 then; I did come to find out if you hadn t got cold, 
 or somethin . You re such a child and I m such a 
 soft-headed fool I couldn t help it, I cal late? " 
 
 14 Emeline, s pose I had got cold. S pose you 
 found I was sick what then? " 
 
 Why why, then I guess likely I d have seen 
 231
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 the doctor on my way through Eastboro. I shall 
 be goin that way to-morrer when I leave here." 
 
 ;< When you leave here ? What do you mean 
 by that?" 
 
 Just what I say. Miss Graham s goin to Bos 
 ton to-morrer, and I m goin with her as tar as 
 the city." 
 
 " But but you re comin back ! " 
 
 " What should I come back here for? My sum 
 mer job s over. If you want to know, my prin 
 cipal reason for comin here this mornin was to 
 say good-by to Mr. Brown, of course." 
 
 Seth s arm dropped. He leaned heavily against 
 the doorpost. 
 
 " You re goin away! " he exclaimed. " You re 
 goin away! Where?" 
 
 " I don t know. Back home, I s pose. Though 
 what I ll do when I get there I don t know. I ve 
 sold the house, so I don t exactly know where I ll 
 put up. But I guess I ll find a place." 
 
 " You ve sold your house ? The house we used 
 to live in?" 
 
 u Yes. The man that s been hirin it has bought 
 it. I m glad, for I need the money. So good-by, 
 Seth. Tain t likely we ll meet again in this life." 
 
 She started toward the door once more, and this 
 232
 
 THE LETTER AND THE PHONE 
 
 time he was too greatly disturbed and shaken by 
 what she had told him to detain her. At the 
 threshhold she turned and looked at him. 
 
 " Good-by, Seth," she said again. " I hope 
 you ll be happy. And," with a half smile, " if I 
 was you I d stay keepin lights; it, or somethin 
 else, has improved you a whole lot. Good-by." 
 
 Then he sprang forward. " Emeline-" he cried, 
 " Emeline, wait. You mustn t go. I can t let you 
 go this way. I ... What s that?" 
 
 That " was the sound of horse s fee* and the 
 rattle of wheels. The lightkeeper ran to the win 
 dow. 
 
 " It s Henry G. s grocery cart," he said. " I 
 cal late he s fetchin some truck I ordered last week. 
 Do you want him to see you here? " 
 
 " I don t care. He don t know but what yof 
 and me are the best of friends. Yet, I don t 
 know. Maybe it s just as well he don t see me; 
 then there ll be no excuse for talk. I ll step inside 
 and wait." 
 
 She returned to the kitchen, and Seth went out 
 to meet the wagon. Its driver was the boy who 
 had brought the flypaper and "Jb-" 
 
 " Hello," hailed the youngster, pulling in his 
 steed; " how be you, Mr. Atkins? I ve got some 
 
 233
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 of them things you ordered. The rest ain t come 
 from Boston yet. Soon s they do, Henry G. ll 
 send em down. How you feelin these days? 
 Ain t bought no more dogs, have you? " 
 
 Seth curtly replied that he " wa n t speculatin in 
 dogs to no great extent any more," and took the 
 packages which the boy handed him. With them 
 was a bundle of newspapers and an accumulation 
 of mail matter. 
 
 " I fetched the mail for the bungalow, too," said 
 the boy. " There s two or three letters for that 
 Graham girl and one for Mrs. Bascom. She s 
 housekeeper there, you know." 
 
 " Yes. Here, you might s well leave their mail 
 along with mine. I ll see it s delivered, all right." 
 
 "Will you? Much obliged. Coin to take it 
 over yourself? Better look out, hadn t you ? That 
 Graham girl s a peach; all the fellers at the store s 
 talkin about her. Seems a pity she s wastin her 
 sassiety on a woman-hater like you; that s what 
 they say. You ain t gettin over your female hate, 
 are you ? Haw, haw ! " 
 
 Mr. Atkins regarded his questioner with stern 
 disapproval. 
 
 4 There s some things such as chronic sassi- 
 ness some folks never get over," he observed 
 
 234
 
 THE LETTER AND THE PHONE 
 
 caustically. * Though when green hides are too 
 fresh they can be tanned ; don t forget that, young 
 feller. Any more chatty remarks you ve got to 
 heave over? No? Well, all right; then I d be 
 trottin back home if I was you. Henry G. ll have 
 to shut up shop if you deprive him of your valu 
 able services too long. Good day to you." 
 
 The driver, somewhat abashed, gathered up the 
 reins. " I didn t mean to make you mad," he ob 
 served. " Anything in our line you want to 
 order?" 
 
 " No. I m cal latin to go to the village myself 
 this afternoon, and if I want any more groceries 
 I ll order em then. As for makin me mad well, 
 don t you flatter yourself. A moskeeter can pester 
 me, but he don t make me mad but once and his 
 funeral s held right afterwards. Now trot along 
 and keep in the shade much as you can. You re 
 so fresh the sun might spile you." 
 
 The boy, looking rather foolish, laughed and 
 drove out of the yard. Seth, his arms full, went 
 back to the kitchen. He dumped the packages 
 and newspapers on the table and began sorting the 
 letters. 
 
 l< Here you are, Emeline," he said. " Here s 
 Miss Graham s mail and somethin for you." 
 
 235
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 "For me?" The housekeeper was surprised. 
 " A letter for me ! What is it, I wonder ? Some- 
 thin about sellin the house maybe." 
 
 She took the letter from him and turned to the 
 light before opening it. Seth sat down in the 
 rocker and began inspecting his own assortment of 
 circulars and papers. Suddenly he heard a sound 
 from his companion. Glancing up he saw that 
 she was leaning against the doorpost, the open let 
 ter in her hand, and on her face an expression 
 which caused him to spring from his chair. 
 
 " What is it, Emeline? " he demanded. " Any 
 bad news? " 
 
 She scarcely noticed him until he spoke again. 
 Then she shook her head. 
 
 " No," she said slowly. " Nothin but but 
 what I might have expected." 
 
 " But what is it? It is bad news. Can t I help 
 you? Please let me, if I can. I I d like to." 
 
 She looked at him strangely, and then turned 
 away. " I guess nobody can help me," she an 
 swered. " Least of all, you." 
 
 "Why not? I d like to; honest, I would. If 
 it s about that house business maybe I " 
 
 " It ain t." 
 
 "Then what is it? Please, Emeline. I know 
 236
 
 THE LETTER AND THE PHONE 
 
 you don t think much of me. Maybe you ve 
 got good reasons; I m past the place where 
 I d deny that. I I ve been feelin meaner n 
 meaner every day lately. I I don t know s I 
 done right in runnin off and leavin you the way 
 I did. Don t you s pose you could give me another 
 chance? Emeline, I " 
 
 " Seth Bascom, what do you mean? " 
 
 Just what I say. Emeline, you and me was 
 mighty happy together once. Let s try it again. 
 I will, if you will." 
 
 She was staring at him in good earnest now. 
 
 "Why, Seth!" she exclaimed. "What are 
 you talkin about? You the chronic woman- 
 hater! " 
 
 That be blessed ! I wa n t really a woman- 
 hater. I only thought I was. And and I never 
 hated you. Right through the worst of it I never 
 did. Let s try it again, Emeline. You re in 
 trouble. You need somebody to help you. Give 
 me the chance." 
 
 There was a wistful look in her eyes; she seemed, 
 or so he thought, to be wavering. But she shook 
 her head. " I was in trouble before, Seth," she 
 said, " and you didn t help me then. You run off 
 and left me." 
 
 237
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " You just as much as told me to go. You know 
 you did." 
 
 11 No, I didn t." 
 
 " Well, you didn t tell me to stay." 
 
 " It never seemed to me that a husband if he 
 was a man would need to be coaxed to stay by 
 his wife." 
 
 " But don t you care about me at all? You used 
 to; I know it. And I always cared for you. What 
 is it? Honest, Emeline, you never took any stock 
 in that Sarah Ann Christy doin s, you know you 
 didn t; now, did you? " 
 
 She was close to tears, but she smiled in spite of 
 them. 
 
 Well, no, Seth," she answered. " I will con 
 fess that Sarah Ann never worried me much." 
 Then don t you care for me, Emeline? " 
 
 " I care for you much as I ever did. I never 
 stopped carin for you, fool that I am. But as 
 for livin with you again and runnin the risk 
 
 of " 
 
 4 You won t run any risk. You say I ve im 
 proved, yourself. Your principal fault with me was, 
 as I understand it, that I was too too somethin 
 or other. That I wa n t man enough. By jiminy 
 crimps, I ll show you that I m a man ! Give me 
 
 238
 
 THE LETTER AND THE PHONE 
 
 the chance, and nothin nor nobody can make me 
 leave you again. Besides, there s nobody to come 
 between us now. We was all right until that 
 that Bennie D. came along. He was the one that 
 took the starch out of me. Now he s out of the 
 way. He won t bother us any more and . . . 
 Why, what is it, Emeline?" 
 
 For she was looking at him with an expression 
 even more strange. And again she shook her head. 
 
 " I guess," she began, and was interrupted by 
 the jingle of the telephone bell. 
 
 The instrument was fastened to the kitchen wall, 
 and the lightkeeper hastened to answer the ring. 
 
 " Testin the wire after the storm, most likely," 
 he explained, taking the receiver from the hook. 
 " Hello! . . . Hello! . . . Yep, this is East- 
 boro Lights. . . . I m the lightkeeper, yes. 
 . . . Hey? . . . Miss Graham? . . . Right 
 next door. . . . Yes. . . . Who?" Then, 
 turning to his companion, he said in an astonished 
 voice: "It s somebody wants to talk with you, 
 Emeline." 
 
 " With me? " Mrs. Bascom could hardly be 
 lieve it. " Are you sure? " 
 
 " So they say. Asked me if I could get you to 
 the phone without any trouble. She s right here 
 
 239
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 now," he added, speaking into the transmitter. 
 44 I ll call her." 
 
 The housekeeper wonderingly took the receiver 
 from his hand. 
 
 " Hello! " she began. " Yes, this is Mrs. Bas- 
 com. . . . Who? . . . What? . . . Oh!" 
 
 The last exclamation was almost a gasp, but 
 Seth did not hear it. As she stepped forward to 
 the phone she had dropped her letter. Atkins 
 went over and picked it up. It lay face down 
 ward on the floor, and the last page, with the 
 final sentence and signature, was uppermost. He 
 could not help seeing it. " So we shall soon 
 be together as of old. Your loving brother, 
 Benjamin." 
 
 When Mrs. Bascom turned away from the 
 phone after a rather protracted conversation she 
 looked more troubled than ever. But Seth was 
 not looking at her. He sat in the rocking-chair 
 and did not move nor raise his head. She waited 
 for him to speak, but he did not. 
 
 " Well," she said with a sigh, " I guess I must 
 go. Good-by, Seth." 
 
 The lightkeeper slowly rose to his feet. " Erne- 
 line," he stammered, " you ain t goin with 
 out " 
 
 240
 
 THE LETTER AND THE PHONE 
 
 He stopped without finishing the sentence. She 
 waited a moment and then finished it for him. 
 
 " I ll answer your question, if that s what you 
 mean," she said. " And the answer is no. All 
 things considered, I guess that s best." 
 
 " But Emeline, I I " 
 
 " Good-by, Seth." 
 
 " Sha n t I," desperately, " sha n t I see you 
 again? " 
 
 I expect to be around here for another day or 
 so. But I can t see anythin to be gained by our 
 meetin . Good-by." 
 
 Taking her letter and those addressed to Miss 
 Graham from the table she went out of the kitchen. 
 Seth followed her as far as the door, then turned 
 and collapsed in the rocking-chair.
 
 41 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 JOHN BROWN CHANGES HIS NAME 
 
 SO we shall soon be together again as of 
 old. Your loving brother, Benjamin." 
 
 The sentence which had met his eyes 
 as he picked up the note which his caller had 
 dropped was still before them, burned into his 
 memory. Benjamin ! " Bennie D." ! the loathed 
 and feared and hated Bennie D., cause of all the 
 Bascom matrimonial heartbreaks, had written to 
 say that he and his sister-in-law were soon to be to 
 gether as they used to be. That meant that there 
 had been no quarrel, but merely a temporary sep 
 aration. That she and he were still friendly. That 
 they had been in correspondence and that the " in 
 ventor " was coming back to take his old place as 
 autocrat in the household with all his old influence 
 over Emeline. Seth s new-found courage and man 
 hood had vanished at the thought. Bennie D. s 
 name had scarcely been mentioned during the vari- 
 
 242
 
 "BROWN" CHANGES HIS NAME 
 
 ous interviews between the lightkeeper and his 
 wife. She had said her first husband s brother had 
 been in New York for two years, and her manner 
 of saying it led Seth to imagine a permanent sepa 
 ration following some sort of disagreement. And 
 now ! and now ! He remembered Bennie D. s supe 
 rior airs, his polite sneers, his way of turning every 
 trick to his advantage and of perverting and mis 
 representing his, Seth s, most innocent speech and 
 action into crimes of the first magnitude. He re 
 membered the meaning of those last few months in 
 the Cape Ann homestead. All his fiery determina 
 tion to be what he had once been Seth Bascom, 
 the self-respecting man and husband collapsed 
 and vanished. He groaned in abject surrender. 
 He could not go through it again; he was afraid. 
 Of any other person on earth he would not have 
 been, but the unexpected resurrection of Bennie D. 
 made him a hesitating coward. Therefore he was 
 silent when his wife left him, and he realized that 
 his opportunity was gone, gone forever. 
 
 In utter misery and self-hatred he sat, with his 
 head in his hands, beside the kitchen table until 
 eleven o clock. Then he rose, got dinner, and 
 called Brown to eat it. He ate nothing himself, 
 saying that he d lost his appetite somehow or other. 
 
 243
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 After the meal he harnessed Joshua to the little 
 wagon and started on his drive to Eastboro. " I ll 
 be back early, I cal late," were his last words as he 
 drove out of the yard. 
 
 After he had gone, and Brown had finished clear 
 ing away and the other housekeeping tasks which 
 were now such a burden, the substitute assistant 
 went out to sit on the bench and smoke. The 
 threatened easterly wind had begun to blow, and the 
 sky was dark with tumbling clouds. The young 
 man paid little attention to the weather, however. 
 All skies were gloomy so far as he was concerned, 
 and the darkest day was no blacker than his 
 thoughts. Occasionally he glanced at the bungalow, 
 and on one such occasion was surprised to see a car 
 riage, one of the turnouts supplied by the Eastboro 
 livery stable, roll up to its door and Mrs. Bas- 
 com, the housekeeper, emerge, climb to the seat 
 beside the driver, and be driven away in the direc 
 tion of the village. He idly wondered where she 
 was going, but was not particularly interested. 
 When, a half hour later, Ruth Graham left the 
 bungalow and strolled off along the path at the top 
 of the bluff, he was very much interested indeed. 
 He realized, as he had been realizing for weeks, 
 that he was more interested in that young woman 
 
 244
 
 " BROWN " CHANGES HIS NAME 
 
 than in anything else on earth. Also, that he had 
 no right miserable outcast that he was to be 
 interested in her; and certainly it would be the 
 wildest insanity to imagine that she could be in 
 terested in him. 
 
 For what the lightkeeper might say or do, in 
 the event of his secret being discovered, he did not 
 care in the least. He was long past that point. 
 And for the breaking of their solemn compact he 
 did not care either. Seth might or might not have 
 played the traitor; that, too, was a matter of no 
 importance. Seth himself was of no importance; 
 neither was he. There was but one important per 
 son in the w r hole world, and she was strolling along 
 the bluff path at that moment. Therefore he left 
 his seat on the bench, hurried down the slope to 
 the inner end of the cove, noting absently that the 
 tide of the previous night must have been unusu 
 ally high, climbed to the bungalow, turned the 
 corner, and walked slowly in the direction of the 
 trim figure in the blue suit, which was walking, 
 even more slowly, just ahead of him. 
 
 It may be gathered that John Brown s feelings 
 
 concerning the opposite sex had changed. They 
 
 had, and he had changed in other ways, also. How 
 
 much of a change had taken place he did not him- 
 
 17 245
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 self realize, until this very afternoon. He did not 
 realize it even then until, after he and the girl in 
 blue had met, and the customary expressions of sur 
 prise at their casual meeting had been exchanged, 
 the young lady seated herself on a dune overlook 
 ing the tumbling sea and observed thoughtfully: 
 
 " I shall miss all this " with a wave of her 
 hand toward the waves " next week, when I am 
 back again in the city." 
 
 Brown s cap was in his hand as she began to 
 speak. After she had finished he stooped to pick 
 up the cap, which had fallen to the ground. 
 
 You are going away next week?" he said 
 slowly. 
 
 We are going to-morrow. I shall remain in 
 Boston for a few days. Then I shall visit a friend 
 in the Berkshires. After that I may join my 
 brother in Europe; I m not sure as to that." 
 
 " To-morrow? " 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 There was another one of those embarrassing 
 intervals of silence which of late seemed to occur 
 so often in their conversation. Miss Graham, as 
 usual, was the first to speak. 
 
 " Mr. Brown," she began. The substitute as 
 sistant interrupted her. 
 
 246
 
 "BROWN" CHANGES HIS NAME 
 
 " Please don t call me that," he blurted in 
 voluntarily. " It oh, confound it, it isn t my 
 
 name ! " 
 
 She should have been very much surprised. He 
 expected her to be. Instead she answered quite 
 calmly. 
 
 " I know it," she said. 
 
 "You do?" 
 
 "Yes. You are * Russ Brooks, aren t you?" 
 
 Russell Brooks, alias John Brown, dropped his 
 cap again, but did not pick it up. He swallowed 
 hard. 
 
 " How on earth did you know that? " he asked 
 as soon as he could say anything. 
 
 " Oh, it was simple enough. I didn t really 
 know; I only guessed. You weren t a real light- 
 keeper, that was plain. And you weren t used to 
 washing dishes or doing housework that," with 
 the irrepressible curl of the corners of her lips, 
 " was just as plain. When you told me that fib 
 about meeting my brother here last summer I was 
 sure you had met him somewhere, probably at col 
 lege. So in my next letter to him I described you 
 as well as I could, mentioned that you were as good 
 or a better swimmer than he, and asked for par 
 ticulars. He answered that the only fellow he 
 
 247
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 could think of who fitted your description was 
 4 Russ Brooks Russell, I suppose of New 
 York; though what Russ Brooks was doing as 
 lightkeeper s assistant at Eastboro Twin-Lights 
 he didn t know. Neither did I. But then, that 
 was not my business." 
 
 The substitute assistant did not answer: he 
 could not, on such short notice. 
 
 " So," continued the girl, " I felt almost as if 
 I had known you for a long time. You and 
 Horace were such good friends at college, and he 
 had often told me of you. I was very glad to meet 
 you in real life, especially here, where I had no 
 one but Mrs. Bascom to talk to; Mr. Atkins, by 
 reason of his aversion to my unfortunate sex, being 
 barred." 
 
 Mr. Brown s or Mr. Brooks next speech 
 harked back to her previous one. 
 
 " I ll tell you while I m here," he began. 
 
 " You needn t, unless you wish," she said. " I 
 have no right to know " adding, with character 
 istic femininity, " though I m dying to." 
 
 " But I want you to know. As I told Atkins 
 when I first came, I haven t murdered anyone and 
 I haven t stolen anything. I m not a crook run 
 ning from justice. I m just a plain idiot who fell 
 
 248
 
 "BROWN" CHANGES HIS NAME 
 
 overboard from a steamer and " bitterly 
 lk hadn t the good luck to drown." 
 
 She made no comment, and he began his story, 
 
 telling it much as he had told it to the lightkeeper. 
 
 There ! " he said in conclusion, " that s the 
 
 whole fool business. That s why I m here. No 
 
 need to ask what you think of it, I suppose." 
 
 She was silent, gazing at the breakers. He 
 drew his own conclusions from her silence. 
 
 " I see," he said. " Well, I admit it. I m a 
 low down chump. Still, if I had it to do over 
 again, I should do pretty much the same. A few 
 things differently, but in general the very same." 
 
 "What would you do differently?" she asked, 
 still without looking at him. 
 
 " For one thing, I wouldn t run away. I d stay 
 and face the music. Earn my living or starve." 
 
 " And now you re going to stay here? " 
 
 " No longer than I can help. If I get the ap 
 pointment as assistant keeper I ll begin to save 
 every cent I can. Just as soon as I get enough to 
 warrant risking it I ll head for Boston once more 
 and begin the earning or starving process. 
 And," with a snap of his jaws, " I don t intend 
 to starve." 
 
 41 You won t go back to your father? " 
 249
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " If he sees fit to beg my pardon and acknowl 
 edge that I was right not otherwise. And he 
 must do it of his own accord. I told him that 
 when I walked out of his office. It was my con 
 tribution to our fond farewell. His was that he 
 would see me damned first. Possibly he may." 
 
 She smiled. 
 
 You must have been a charming pair of pep 
 per pots," she observed. " And the young lady 
 what of her?" 
 
 " She knows that I am fired, cut off even with 
 out the usual shilling. That will be quite suf 
 ficient for her, I think." 
 
 " How do you know it will? How do you know 
 she might not have been willing to wait while you 
 earned that living you are so sure is coming? " 
 
 " Wait? She wait for me? Ann Davidson wait 
 for a man without a cent while he tried to earn a 
 good many dollars? Humph! you amuse me." 
 
 Why not? You didn t give her a chance. 
 You calmly took it for granted that she wanted 
 only money and social position and you walked off 
 and left her. How do you know she wouldn t 
 have liked you better for telling her just how you 
 felt. If a girl really cared for a man it seems to 
 me that she would be willing to wait for him, years 
 
 250
 
 "BROWN CHANGES HIS NAME 
 
 and years if it were necessary, provided that, dur 
 ing that time, he was trying his best for her." 
 
 " But but she isn t that kind of a girl." 
 
 " How do you know? You didn t put her to 
 the test. You owed her that. It seems to me you 
 owe it to her now." 
 
 The answer to this was on his tongue. It was 
 ready behind his closed lips, eager to burst forth. 
 That he didn t love the Davidson girl, never had 
 loved her. That during the past month he had 
 come to realize there was but one woman in the 
 wide world for him. And did that woman mean 
 what she said about waiting years and years 
 provided she cared? And did she care? 
 
 He didn t utter one word of this. He wanted 
 to, but it seemed so preposterous. Such an idiotic, 
 outrageous thing to ask. Yet it is probable that 
 he would have asked it if the young lady had given 
 him the chance. But she did not; after a side 
 long glance at his face, she hurriedly rose from the 
 rock and announced that she must be getting back 
 to the house. 
 
 I have some packing to do," she explained; 
 " and, besides, I think it is going to rain." 
 
 " But, Miss Graham, I " 
 
 A big drop of rain splashing upon his shoe con-
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 firmed the weather prophecy. She began to walk 
 briskly toward the bungalow, and he walked at her 
 side. 
 
 " Another storm," she said. " I should think 
 the one we have just passed through was sufficient 
 for a while. I hope Mrs. Bascom won t get wet." 
 
 " She has gone to the village, hasn t she? " 
 
 " Yes. She has received some message or 
 other I don t know how it came which sent her 
 off in a hurry. A livery carriage came for her. 
 She will be back before night." 
 
 " Atkins has gone, too. He had some errands, 
 I believe. I can t make out what has come over 
 him of late. He has changed greatly. He used 
 to be so jolly and good-humored, except when fe 
 male picnickers came. Now he is as solemn as an 
 owl. When he went away he scarcely spoke a 
 word. I thought he seemed to be in trouble, but 
 when I asked him, he shut me up so promptly that 
 I didn t press the matter." 
 
 " Did he? That s odd. Mrs. Bascom seemed 
 to be in trouble, too. I thought she had been cry 
 ing when she came out of her room to go to the 
 carriage. She denied it, but her eyes looked red. 
 What can be the matter? " 
 
 " I don t know." 
 
 252
 
 " Nor I. Mr. er Brooks Or shall I still 
 call you Brown ? " 
 
 " No. Brown is dead; drowned. Let him stay 
 
 so." 
 
 Very well. Mr. Brooks, has it occurred to 
 you that your Mr. Atkins is a peculiar character? 
 That he acts peculiarly?" 
 
 " He has acted peculiarly ever since I knew him. 
 But to what particular peculiarity do you refer? " 
 
 " His queer behavior. Several times I have 
 seen him I am almost sure it was he hiding or 
 crouching behind the sand hills at the rear of our 
 bungalow." 
 
 " You have? Why, I " 
 
 He hesitated. Before he could go on or she 
 continue, the rain came in a deluge. They reached 
 the porch just in time. 
 
 Well, I m safe and reasonably dry," she 
 panted. " I m afraid you will be drenched before 
 you get to the lights. Don t you want an um 
 brella?" 
 
 " No. No, indeed, thank you." 
 
 Well, you must hurry then. Good-by." 
 
 " But, Miss Graham," anxiously, " I shall see 
 you again before you go. To-morrow, at bathing 
 time, perhaps? " 
 
 253
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " Judging by the outlook just at present, bath 
 ing will be out of the question to-morrow." 
 
 " But I want to see you. I must." 
 
 She shook her head doubtfully. " I don t 
 know," she said. " I shall be very busy get 
 ting ready to leave; but perhaps we may meet 
 again." 
 
 " We must. I Miss Graham, I " 
 
 She had closed the door. He ran homeward 
 through the rain, the storm which soaked him 
 to the skin being but a trifle compared to the tor 
 nado in his breast. 
 
 He spent the balance of the day somehow, he 
 could not have told how. The rain and wind con 
 tinued; six o clock came, and Seth should have re 
 turned an hour before, but there was no sign of 
 him. He wondered if Mrs. Bascom had re 
 turned. He had not seen the carriage, but she 
 might have come while he was inside the house. 
 The lightkeeper s nonappearance began to worry 
 him a trifle. 
 
 At seven, as it was dark, he took upon himself 
 the responsibility of climbing the winding stairs 
 in each tower and lighting the great lanterns. It 
 was the first time he had done it, but he knew 
 how, and the duty was successfully accomplished. 
 
 254
 
 "BROWN" CHANGES HIS NAME 
 
 Then, as Atkins was still absent and there was 
 nothing to do but wait, he sat in the chair in the 
 kitchen and thought. Occasionally, and it showed 
 the trend of his thoughts, he rose and peered from 
 the window across the dark to the bungalow. In 
 the living room of the latter structure a light 
 burned. At ten it was extinguished. 
 
 At half past ten he went to Seth s bedroom, 
 found a meager assortment of pens, ink and note 
 paper, returned to the kitchen, sat down by the 
 table and began to write. 
 
 For an hour he thought, wrote, tore up what 
 he had written, and began again. At last the re 
 sult of his labor read something like this: 
 
 " DEAR Miss GRAHAM: 
 
 " I could not say it this afternoon, although if 
 you had stayed I think I should. But I must say 
 it now or it may be too late. I can t let you go 
 without saying it. I love you. Will you wait for 
 me? It may be a very long wait, although God 
 knows I mean to try harder than I have ever tried 
 for anything in my life. If I live I will make some 
 thing of myself yet, with you as my inspiration. 
 You know you said if a girl really cared for a man 
 she would willingly wait years for him. Do you 
 
 255
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 care for me as much as that? With you, or for 
 you, I believe I can accomplish anything. Do you 
 care? 
 
 " RUSSELL BROOKS." 
 
 He put this in an envelope, sealed and ad 
 dressed it, and without stopping to put on either 
 cap or raincoat went out in the night. 
 
 The rain was still falling, although not as heav 
 ily, but the wind was coming in fierce squalls. He 
 descended the path to the cove, floundering 
 through the wet bushes. At the foot of the hill he 
 was surprised to find the salt marsh a sea of water 
 not a vestige of ground above the surface. This 
 was indeed a record-breaking tide, such as he had 
 never known before. He did not pause to reflect 
 upon tides or such trivialities, but, with a growl 
 at being obliged to make the long detour, he 
 rounded the end of the cove and climbed up to 
 the door of the bungalow. Under the edge of that 
 door he tucked the note he had written. As soon 
 as this was accomplished he became aware that he 
 had expressed himself very clumsily. He had not 
 written as he might. A dozen brilliant thoughts 
 came to him. He must rewrite that note at all 
 hazards. 
 
 256
 
 "BROWN" CHANGES HIS NAME 
 
 So he spent five frantic minutes trying to coax 
 that envelope from under the door. But, in his 
 care to push it far enough, it had dropped beyond 
 the sill, and he could not reach it. The thing was 
 done for better or for worse. Perfectly certain 
 that it was for worse, he splashed mournfully back 
 to the lights. In the lantern room of the right- 
 hand tower he spent the remainder of the night, 
 occasionally wandering out on the gallery to note 
 the weather. 
 
 The storm was dying out. The squalls were less 
 and less frequent, and the rain had been succeeded 
 by a thick fog. The breakers pounded in the dark 
 below him, and from afar the foghorns moaned 
 and wailed. It was a bad night, a night during 
 which no lightkeeper should be absent from his 
 post. And where was Seth?
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 " BENNIE D." 
 
 SETH S drive to Eastboro was a dismal 
 journey. Joshua pounded along over the 
 wet sand or through ruts filled with water, 
 and not once during the trip was he ordered to 
 " Giddap " or " Show some signs of life." Not 
 until the first scattered houses of the village were 
 reached did the lightkeeper awaken from his 
 trance sufficiently to notice that the old horse was 
 limping slightly with the right forefoot. 
 
 " Hello! " exclaimed Seth. " What s the mat 
 ter with you, Josh? " 
 
 Joshua slopped on, but this was a sort of three- 
 legged progress. The driver leaned forward and 
 then pulled on the reins. 
 
 " Whoa ! " he ordered. " Stand still 1 " 
 Joshua stood still, almost with enthusiasm. 
 Seth tucked the end of the reins between the whip 
 socket and the dashboard, and swung out of the 
 
 258
 
 "BENNIE D." 
 
 wagon to make an examination. Lifting the lame 
 foot, he found the trouble at once. The shoe was 
 loose. 
 
 "Humph!" he soliloquized. " Cal late you 
 and me 11 have to give Benijah a job. Well," 
 climbing back into the vehicle, " I said I d never 
 give him another after the row we had about the 
 last, but I ain t got ambition enough to go clear 
 over to the Denboro blacksmith s. / don t care. 
 I don t care about nothin any more. Giddap." 
 
 Benijah Ellis s little, tumble-down blacksmith 
 shop was located in the main street of Eastboro, 
 if that hit-or-miss town can be said to possess a 
 main street. Atkins drove up to its door, before 
 which he found Benijah and a group of loungers 
 inspecting an automobile, the body of which had 
 been removed in order that the engine and run 
 ning gear might be the easier reached. The 
 blacksmith was bending over the car, his head 
 and shoulders down amidst the machinery; a big 
 wrench was in his hand, and other wrenches, ham 
 mers, and tools of various sizes were scattered 
 on the ground beside him. 
 
 " Hello, Benije," grunted Seth. 
 
 Ellis removed his nose from its close prox 
 imity to the gear shaft and straightened up. He 
 
 259
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 was a near-sighted, elderly man, and wore spec 
 tacles. Just now his hands, arms, and apron 
 were covered with grease and oil, and, as he 
 wiped his forehead with the hand not holding 
 the wrench, he left a wide mourning band 
 across it. 
 
 "Well?" he panted. "Who is it? Who 
 wants me? " 
 
 One of the loafers, who had been assisting the 
 blacksmith by holding his pipe while he dove into 
 the machinery, languidly motioned toward the 
 new arrival. Benijah adjusted his spectacles and 
 walked over to the wagon. 
 
 " Who is it? " he asked crossly. Then, as he 
 recognized his visitor, he grunted: "Ugh! it s 
 you, hey Well, what do you want? " 
 
 Want you to put a new shoe on this horse of 
 mine," replied Seth, not too graciously. 
 
 "Is that so! Well, I m busy." 
 
 " I don t care if you be. I guess you ain t so 
 busy you can t do a job of work. If you are, 
 you re richer n I ever heard you was." 
 
 " I want to know! Maybe I m particular who 
 I work for, Seth Atkins." 
 
 " Maybe you are. I ain t so particular; if I 
 was, I wouldn t come here, I tell you that. This 
 
 260
 
 "BENNIE D." 
 
 horse of mine s got a loose shoe, and I want him 
 attended to quick." 
 
 Thought you said you d never trust me with 
 another job." 
 
 ;< I ain t trustin you now. I ll be here while 
 it s done. And I ain t askin you to trust me, 
 neither. I ll pay cash cash, d ye understand?" 
 
 The bystanders grinned. Mr. Ellis s frown 
 deepened. " I m busy," he declared, with im 
 portance. " I ve got Mr. Delancey Barry s au 
 tomobile to fix, and I can t stop to bother with 
 horses specially certain kind of horses." 
 
 This sneer at Joshua roused his owner s ire. 
 He dropped the reins and sprang to the ground. 
 
 " See here, Benije Ellis," he growled, advanc 
 ing upon the repairer of automobiles, who re 
 treated a step or two with promptness. " I don t 
 care what you re fixin , nor whose it is, neither. 
 I guess twill be fixed all right when you get 
 through with it, but that ain t neither here nor 
 there. And it don t make no difference if it does 
 belong to Mr. Barry. If twas Elijah s chariot 
 of fire twould be just the same. That auto won t 
 be done this afternoon, and nobody expects it to 
 be. Here s my horse sufferin to be shod; I want 
 him shod and I ve got the money to pay for it. 
 18 261
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 When it s winter time you re around cryin that 
 you can t earn money to pay your bills. Now, 
 just because it s summer and there s city big- 
 bugs in the neighborhood innocent enough to let 
 you tinker with their autos though they ll never 
 do it but once I don t propose to be put off. If 
 you won t shoe this horse of mine I ll know it s 
 because you ve got so much money you don t need 
 more. And if that s the case, there s a whole 
 lot of folks would be mighty glad to know it- 
 Henry G. Goodspeed for one. I m goin up to 
 his store now. Shall I tell him?" 
 
 This was a shot in the bull s-eye. Mr. Ellis 
 owed a number of bills, had owed them for a 
 long time, and Mr. Goodspeed s was by no 
 means the smallest. The loafers exchanged 
 winks, and the blacksmith s manner became more 
 conciliatory. 
 
 " I didn t say I wouldn t do it for you, Seth," 
 he pleaded. u I m always willin to do your 
 work. You re the one that s been complainin ." 
 
 " Ugh ! Well, I m likely to complain some 
 more, but the complaint s one thing, and the 
 need s another. I m like Joel Knowles he said 
 when he couldn t get whisky he worried along 
 best he could with bay rum. I need a blacksmith, 
 
 262
 
 "BENNIE D." 
 
 and if I can t get a real one I ll put up with an 
 imitation. Will you shoe this horse for me?" 
 
 u Course I ll shoe him. But I can t do it this 
 minute. I ve got this consarned machine," wav 
 ing a hand toward the automobile, " out of door 
 here and all to pieces. And it s goin to rain. 
 Just let me put enough of it together so s I can 
 shove it into the shop out of the wet, and then 
 I ll tackle your job. You leave your horse and 
 team here and go do your other errands. He ll 
 be ready when you come back." 
 
 So on this basis the deal was finally made. 
 Seth was reluctant to trust the precious Joshua 
 out of his sight, but, after some parley, he agreed 
 to do so. The traces were unfastened, and the 
 animal was led into the shop, the carriage was 
 backed under a shed, and the lightkeeper went 
 away promising to be back in an hour. As soon 
 as he had gone, Ellis dived again into the vitals 
 of the auto. 
 
 The argument with the blacksmith had one 
 satisfactory result so far as Seth was concerned. 
 In a measure it afforded a temporary vent for 
 his feelings. He was moderately agreeable dur 
 ing his brief stay at the grocery store, and when 
 his orders were given and he found the hour 
 
 263
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 not half over, he strolled out to walk about the 
 village. And then, alone once more, all his mis 
 ery and heartache returned. He strode along, 
 his head down, scarcely speaking to acquaintances 
 whom he met, until he reached the railway sta 
 tion, where he sat down on the baggage truck to 
 mentally review, over and over again, the scene 
 with Emeline and the dreadful collapse of his new 
 born hopes and plans. 
 
 As he sat there, the door of the station opened 
 and a man emerged, a man evidently not a native 
 of Eastboro. He was dressed in a rather loud, 
 but somewhat shabby, suit of summer plaid, his 
 straw hat was set a trifle over one ear, and he 
 was smoking the stump of a not too fragrant 
 cigar. Altogether he looked like a sporting char 
 acter under a temporary financial cloud, but the 
 cloud did not dim his self-satisfaction nor shadow 
 his magnificent complaisance. He regarded the 
 section of Eastboro before him with condescend 
 ing scorn, and then, catching sight of the doleful 
 figure on the baggage truck, strolled over and ad 
 dressed it. 
 
 " I say, my friend," he observed briskly, " have 
 you a match concealed about your person? If 
 
 o, I " 
 
 264
 
 "BENNIE D." 
 
 He stopped short, for Mr. Atkins, after one 
 languid glance in his direction, had sprung from 
 the truck and was gazing at him as if he was 
 some apparition, some figure in a nightmare, in 
 stead of his blase self. And he, as he looked at 
 the lightkeeper s astounded countenance, dropped 
 the cigar stump from his fingers and stepped 
 backward in alarmed consternation. 
 
 You you you? " gasped Seth. 
 
 Fow/" repeated the stranger. 
 
 You! " cried Seth again; not a brilliant nor 
 original observation, but, under the circumstances, 
 excusable, for the nonchalant person in the plaid 
 suit was Emeline Bascom s brother-in-law, the 
 genius, the " inventor," the one person whom he 
 hated and feared more than anyone else in 
 the world Bennie D. himself. 
 
 There was a considerable interval during which 
 neither of the pair spoke. Seth, open-mouthed 
 and horror-stricken, was incapable of speech, and 
 the inventor s astonishment seemed to be coupled 
 with a certain nervousness, almost as if he feared 
 a physical assault. However, as the lightkeeper 
 made no move, and his fists remained open, the 
 nervousness disappeared, and Bennie D. character 
 istically took command of the situation. 
 
 265
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 "Hum!" he observed musingly. "Hum! 
 May I ask what you are doing here? " 
 
 " Huh hey? " was Seth s incoherent reply. 
 
 " I ask what you are doing here? Have you 
 followed me? " 
 
 " Fol-follered you? No." 
 4 You re sure of that, are you? " 
 Yes, I be." Seth did not ask what Bennie 
 D. was doing there. Already that question was 
 settled in his mind. The brother-in-law had found 
 out that Emeline was living next door to the man 
 she married, that her summer engagement was 
 over, and he had come to take her away. 
 
 Well?" queried the inventor sharply, "if 
 you haven t followed me, what are you doing 
 here? What do you mean by being here? " 
 
 " I belong here," desperately. " I work here." 
 
 "You do? And may I ask what particular 
 being is fortunate enough to employ you? " 
 
 " I m keeper down to the lighthouses, if 
 you want to know. But I cal late you know it 
 already." 
 
 Bennie D. s coolness was not proof against 
 this. He started. 
 
 : The lighthouses?" he repeated. "The 
 what is it they call them? the Twin-Lights?" 
 
 266
 
 "BENNIE D." 
 
 Yes. You know it; what s the use of askin 
 fool questions? " 
 
 The inventor had not known it until that mo 
 ment, and he took time to consider before making 
 another remark. His sister-in-law was employed 
 as housekeeper at some bungalow or other situ 
 ated in close proximity to the Twin-Lights; that 
 he had discovered since his arrival on the morn 
 ing train. Prior to that he had known only that 
 she was in Eastboro for the summer. Before 
 that he had not been particularly interested in 
 her location. Since the day, two years past, when, 
 having decided that he had used her and her 
 rapidly depleting supply of cash as long as was 
 safe or convenient, he had unceremoniously left 
 her and gone to New York to live upon money 
 supplied by a credulous city gentleman, whom his 
 smooth tongue had interested in his " inventions," 
 he had not taken the trouble even to write to Em- 
 eline. But within the present month the New 
 Yorker s credulity and his " loans " had ceased 
 to be material assets. Then Bennie D., face to 
 face with the need of funds, remembered his sis 
 ter and the promise given his dead brother that 
 he should be provided with a home as long as she 
 had one. 
 
 267
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 He journeyed to Cape Ann and found, to his 
 dismay, that she was no longer there. After 
 some skillful detective work, he learned of the 
 Eastboro engagement and wrote the letter a 
 piteous, appealing letter, full of brotherly love 
 and homesickness which, held back by the storm, 
 reached Mrs. Bascom only that morning. In it 
 he stated that he was on his way to her and was 
 counting the minutes until they should be together 
 once more. And he had, as soon after his arrival 
 in the village as possible, phoned to the Lights 
 and spoken with her. Her tone, as she answered, 
 was, he thought, alarmingly cold. It had made 
 him apprehensive, and he wondered if his in 
 fluence over her was on the wane. But now 
 now he understood. Her husband her hus 
 band, of all people had been living next door 
 to her all summer. No doubt she knew he 
 was there when she took the place. Perhaps 
 they had met by mutual agreement. Why, 
 this was appalling! It might mean anything. 
 And yet Seth did not look triumphant or 
 even happy. Bennie D. resolved to show no 
 signs of perturbation or doubt, but first to 
 find out, if he could, the truth, and then to act 
 accordingly. 
 
 268
 
 "BENNIE D." 
 
 " Mr. Bascom " he began. The lightkeeper, 
 greatly alarmed, interrupted him. 
 
 "Hush!" he whispered. "Don t say that. 
 That ain t my name down here." 
 "Indeed? What is your name?" 
 " Down here they call me Seth Atkins." 
 Bennie D. looked puzzled. Then his expres 
 sion changed. He was relieved. When he 
 phoned to the Lights using the depot phone 
 the station agent had seemed to consider his call 
 ing a woman over the lighthouse wire great fun. 
 The lightkeeper, so the agent said, was named 
 Atkins, and was a savage woman-hater. He 
 would not see a woman, much less speak to one; 
 it was a standing joke in the neighborhood, Seth s 
 hatred of females. That seemed to prove that 
 Emeline and her husband were not reconciled 
 and living together, at least. Possibly their being 
 neighbors was merely a coincidence. If so, he 
 might not have come too late. When he next 
 addressed his companion it was in a different tone 
 and without the " Mister." 
 
 " Bascom or er Atkins," he said sharply, 
 " I hoped I sincerely hoped that you and I 
 might not meet during my short stay here; but, 
 as we have met, I think it best that we should 
 
 269
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 understand each other. Suppose we walk over 
 to that clump of trees on the other side of the 
 track. We shall be alone there, and I can say 
 what is necessary. I don t wish even when I 
 remember your behavior toward my sister to 
 humiliate you in the town where you may be try 
 ing to lead a better life. Come." 
 
 He led the way, and Seth, yielding as of old 
 to this man s almost hypnotic command over him 
 and still bewildered by the unexpected meeting, 
 follow ed like a whipped dog. Under the shel 
 ter of the trees they paused. 
 
 " Now then," said Bennie D., " perhaps you ll 
 tell me what you mean by decoying my sister 
 down here in my absence, when I was not pres 
 ent to protect her. What do you mean by it? " 
 
 Seth stared at him uncomprehendingly. " De- 
 coyin her? " he repeated. " I never decoyed 
 her, I ve been here ever since I left left you 
 and her that night. I never asked her to come. 
 I didn t know she was cominV And she didn t 
 
 know I was here until until a month or so ago. 
 I __ 
 
 Bennie D. held up a hand. He was delighted 
 by this piece of news, but he did not show it. 
 " That will do," he said. " I understand all 
 
 270
 
 "BENNIE D." 
 
 that. But since then since then? What do you 
 mean by trying to influence her as you have ? An 
 
 swer me ! " 
 
 The lightkeeper rubbed his forehead. 
 
 " I ain t tried to influence her," he declared. 
 " She and me have scarcely seen each other. No 
 body knows that we was married, not even Miss 
 Graham nor the young feller that s that s my 
 helper at the lights. You must know that. She 
 must have wrote you. What are you talkin 
 about?" 
 
 She had not written; he had received no letters 
 from her during the two years, but again the 
 wily " genius " was equal to the occasion. He 
 looked wise and nodded. 
 
 " Of course," he said importantly. " Of 
 course. Certainly." 
 
 He hesitated, not knowing exactly what his 
 next move should be. And Seth, having had time 
 to collect, in a measure, his scattered wits, began 
 to do some thinking on his own account. 
 
 " Say," he said suddenly, " if you knew all this 
 aforehand, what are you askin these questions 
 for?" 
 
 " That," Bennie D. s gesture was one of lofty 
 disdain, " is my busin ess." 
 
 271
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " I want to know ! Well, then, maybe I ve got 
 some business of my own. Who made my busi 
 ness your business? Hey?" 
 
 " The welfare of my sister " 
 
 " Never you mind your sister. You re talk- 
 in with me now. And you ain t got me penned 
 up in a house, neither. By jiminy crimps! " His 
 anger boiled over, and, to the inventor s eyes, he 
 began to look alarmingly alive. " By jiminy 
 crimps ! " repeated Seth, " I ve been prayin all 
 these years to meet you somewheres alone, and 
 now I ve a good mind to to " 
 
 His big fist closed. Bennie D. stepped back 
 ward out of reach. 
 
 " Bascom " he cried, " don t " 
 
 " Don t you call me that! " 
 
 " Bascom " The inventor was thoroughly 
 frightened, and his voice rose almost to a shout. 
 
 The lightkeeper s wrath vanished at the sound 
 of the name. If any native of Eastboro, if the 
 depot master on the other side of the track, 
 should hear him addressed as " Bascom," the fat 
 would be in the fire for good and all. The secret 
 he had so jealously guarded would be out, and all 
 the miserable story would, sooner or later, be 
 known. 
 
 272
 
 "BENNIE D." 
 
 " Don t call me Bascom," he begged. Er 
 please don t." 
 
 Bennie D. s courage returned. Yet he realized 
 that if a trump card was to be played it must be 
 then. This man was dangerous, and, somehow or 
 other, his guns must be spiked. A brilliant idea 
 occurred to him. Exactly how much of the truth 
 Seth knew he was not sure, but he took the risk. 
 
 Very well then Atkins," he said contemptu 
 ously. ; I am not used to aliases not having 
 dealt with persons finding it necessary to employ 
 them and I forget. But before this disagree 
 able interview is ended I wish you to understand 
 thoroughly why I am here. I am here to protect 
 my sister and to remove her from your persecu 
 tion. I am here to assist her in procuring a di 
 vorce." 
 
 "A divorce! A divorce! Good heavens 
 above! " 
 
 Yes, sir," triumphantly, " a divorce from the 
 man she was trapped into marrying and who de 
 serted her. You did desert her, you can t deny 
 that. So long as she remains your wife, even in 
 name, she is liable to persecution from you. She 
 understands this. She and I are to see a lawyer 
 at once. That is why I am here." 
 
 273
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 Seth was completely overwhelmed. A divorce ! 
 A case for the papers to print, and all of Ostable 
 county to read ! 
 
 " I I I " he stammered, and then added 
 weakly, " I don t believe it. She wouldn t . . . 
 There ain t no lawyer here." 
 
 Then we shall seek the one nearest here. Em- 
 eline understands. I phoned her this morning." 
 
 " Was it you that phoned? " 
 
 " It was. Now er Atkins, I am disposed 
 to be as considerate of your welfare as possible. 
 I know that any publicity in this matter might 
 prejudice you in the eyes of your of the gov 
 ernment officials. I shall not seek publicity, solely 
 on your account. The divorce will be obtained 
 privately, provided provided you remain out of 
 sight and do not interfere. I warn you, therefore, 
 not to make trouble or to attempt to see my sis 
 ter again. If you do well, if you do, the conse 
 quences will be unpleasant for you. Do you un 
 derstand?" 
 
 Seth understood, or thought he did. He 
 groaned and leaned heavily against a tree trunk. 
 
 "You understand, do you?" repeated Bennie 
 D. " I see that you do. Very good then. I 
 have nothing more to say. I advise that you 
 
 274
 
 "BENNIE D." 
 
 remain er in seclusion for the next few days. 
 Good-by." 
 
 He gave a farewell glance at the crushed fig 
 ure leaning against the tree. Then he turned on 
 his heel and walked off. 
 
 Seth remained where he was for perhaps ten 
 minutes, not moving a muscle. Then he seemed 
 to awaken, looked anxiously in the direction of 
 the depot to make sure that no one was watching, 
 pulled his cap over his eyes, jammed his hands 
 into his pockets, and started to walk across the 
 fields. He had no fixed destination in mind, 
 had no idea where he was going except that he 
 must go somewhere, that he could not keep still. 
 
 He stumbled along, through briers and bushes, 
 paying no attention to obstacles such as fences or 
 stone walls until he ran into them, when he 
 climbed over and went blindly on. A mile from 
 Eastboro, and he was alone in a grove of scrub 
 pines. Here he stopped short, struck his hands 
 together, and groaned aloud: 
 
 " I don t believe it! I don t believe it! " 
 
 For he was beginning not to believe it. At 
 first he had not thought of doubting Bennie D. s 
 statement concerning the divorce. Now, as his 
 thoughts became clearer, his doubts grew. His 
 
 275
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 wife had not mentioned the subject in their morn 
 ing interview. Possibly she would not have done 
 so in any event, but, as the memory of her be 
 havior and speech became clearer in his mind, it 
 seemed to him that she could not have kept such 
 a secret. She had been kinder, had seemed to 
 him more yes, almost why, when he asked 
 her to be his again, to give him another chance, 
 she had hesitated. She had not said no at once, 
 she hesitated. If she was about to divorce him, 
 would she have acted in such a way? It hardly 
 seemed possible. 
 
 Then came the letter and the telephone mes 
 sage. It was after these that she had said no 
 with decision. Perhaps . . . was it possible 
 that she had known of her brother-in-law s com 
 ing only then? Now that he thought of it, she 
 had not gone away at once after the talk over the 
 phone. She had waited a moment as if for him 
 to speak. He, staggered and paralyzed by the 
 sight of his enemy s name in that letter, had not 
 spoken and then she . . . He did not believe 
 she was seeking a divorce ! It was all another of 
 Bennie D. s lies! 
 
 But suppose she was seeking it. Or suppose 
 for he knew the persuasive power of that glib 
 
 276
 
 "BENNIE D." 
 
 tongue only too well suppose her brother-in-law 
 should persuade her to do it. Should he sit still 
 in seclusion, as his late adviser had counseled 
 and let this irrevocable and final move be 
 made? After a divorce Seth s idea of divorces 
 were vague and Puritanical there would be no 
 hope. He and Emeline could never come to 
 gether after that. And he must give her up and 
 all his hopes of happiness, all that he had dreamed 
 of late, would be but dreams, never realities. No ! 
 he could not give them up. He would not. Pub 
 licity, scandal, everything, he could face, but he 
 would not give his wife up without a fight. What 
 should he do? 
 
 For a long time he paced up and down be 
 neath the pines trying to plan, to come to some 
 decision. All that he could think of was to re 
 turn to the Lights, to go openly to the bungalow, 
 see Emeline and make one last appeal. Bennie 
 D. might be there, but if he was well, by jim- 
 iny crimps, let him look out, that s all ! 
 
 He had reached this point in his meditations 
 when the wind, which had been steadily increas 
 ing and tossing the pinetops warningly, suddenly 
 became a squall which brought with it a flurry 
 of rain. He started and looked up. The sky 
 19 277
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 was dark, it was late in the afternoon, and the 
 storm he had prophesied had arrived. 
 
 Half an hour later he ran, panting and wet, 
 into the blacksmith s shop. The automobile 
 was standing in the middle of the floor, and Mr. 
 Ellis was standing beside it, perspiring and 
 troubled. 
 
 "Where s Joshua?" demanded Seth. 
 
 " Hey? " inquired the blacksmith absently. 
 
 "Where s my horse? Is he ready?" 
 
 Benijah wiped his forehead. 
 
 "Gosh!" he exclaimed. "By ... gosh!" 
 
 " What are you b goshin about? " 
 
 "Seth I don t know what you ll say to 
 me but but I declare I forgot all about your 
 horse." 
 
 You forgot about him? " 
 
 Yes. You see that thing? " pointing pathet 
 ically at the auto. " Well, sir, that pesky thing s 
 breakin my heart to say nothin of my back. 
 I got it apart all right, no trouble about that. 
 And by good rights I ve got it together again, 
 leastways it looks so. Yet, by time," in dis 
 tracted agitation, " there s a half bucket of bolts 
 and nuts and odds and ends that ain t in it yet 
 left over, you might say. And I can t find ary 
 
 278
 
 "BENNIE D." 
 
 place to put one of em. Do you wonder I for 
 get trifles? " 
 
 Trifles! the shoeing of Joshua a trifle! The 
 lightkeeper had been suffering for an opportu 
 nity to blow off steam, and the opportunity was 
 here. Benijah withered under the blast. 
 
 "S-sh-sh! sh-sh!" he pleaded. "Land sakes, 
 Seth Atkins, stop it ! I don t blame you for 
 bein mad, but you nor nobody else sha n t talk 
 to me that way. I ll fix your horse in five min 
 utes. Yes, sir, in five minutes. Shut up now, or 
 I won t do it at all ! " 
 
 He rushed over to the stall in the rear of the 
 shop, woke Joshua from the sweet slumber of 
 old age, and led him to the halter beside the 
 forge. The lightkeeper, being out of breath, had 
 nothing further to say at the moment. 
 
 What s the matter with all you lighthouse 
 folks?" asked Benijah, anxious to change the 
 subject. What s possessed the whole lot of 
 you to come to the village at one time? Whoa, 
 boy, stand still ! " 
 
 The whole lot of us?" repeated Seth. 
 1 What do you mean? " 
 
 " Mean I ve seen two of you at least this 
 afternoon. That Bascom woman, housekeeper 
 
 279
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 at the Graham bungalow she is, went past here 
 twice. Fust time she was in one of Snow s liv 
 ery buggies, Snow s boy drivin her. Then, about 
 an hour ago, she went by again, but the boy d 
 gone, and there was another feller pilotin the 
 team a stranger, nobody I ever see afore." 
 
 Seth s red face turned pale. "What?" he 
 cried. " Em Mrs. Bascom ridin with a stran 
 ger! What sort of a stranger?" 
 
 " Oh, a feller somewheres between twenty and 
 fifty. Smooth-faced critter with a checked suit 
 and a straw hat. . . . What on earth s the mat 
 ter with you now?" 
 
 For the lightkeeper was shaking from head 
 to foot. 
 
 " Did did which way was they goin ? 
 Back to the Lights or or where? " 
 
 " No, didn t seem to be goin to the Lights at 
 all. They went on the other road. Seemed to 
 be headin for Denboro if they kept on as they 
 started. . . . Seth Atkins, have you turned 
 loony?" 
 
 Seth did not answer. With a leap he landed 
 at Joshua s head, unhooked the halter, and ran 
 out of the shop leading the horse. The aston 
 ished blacksmith followed as far as the door. 
 
 280
 
 "BENNIE D." 
 
 Seth was backing the animal into his wagon, 
 which stood beneath the shed. He fastened the 
 traces with trembling fingers. 
 
 What in the world has struck you? " shouted 
 Ellis. " Ain t you goin to have that shoe fixed? 
 He can t travel that way. Seth ! Seth Atkins I 
 ... By time, he is crazy! " 
 
 Seth did not deny the charge. Climbing into 
 the wagon, he took up the reins. 
 
 " Are you sure and sartin twas the Denboro 
 road they took? " he demanded. 
 
 "Who took? That feller and the Bascom 
 woman? Course I am, but . . . Well, I swan! " 
 
 For the lightkeeper waited to hear no more. 
 He struck the unsuspecting Joshua with the end 
 of the reins and, with a jump, the old horse 
 started forward. Another moment, and the light 
 house wagon was splashing and rattling through 
 the pouring rain along the road leading to Den 
 boro.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE VOYAGE OF THE DAISY M. 
 
 DENBORO is many long miles from 
 Eastboro, and the road, even in the best 
 of weather, is not a good one. It winds 
 and twists and climbs and descends through 
 woods and over hills. There are stretches of 
 marshy hollows where the yellow clay needs but 
 a little moistening to become a paste which sticks 
 to wheels and hoofs and makes traveling, even 
 behind a young and spirited horse, a dishearten 
 ing progress. 
 
 Joshua was neither young nor spirited. And 
 the weather could not have been much worse. 
 The three days storm had soaked everything, 
 and the clay-bottomed puddles were near kin to 
 quicksands. As the lighthouse wagon descended 
 the long slope at the southern end of the village 
 and began the circle of the inner extremity of 
 Eastboro Back Harbor, Seth realized that his 
 
 282
 
 THE VOYAGE OF THE DAISY M. 
 
 journey was to be a hard one. The rain, driven 
 by the northeast wind, came off the water in 
 blinding gusts, and the waves in the harbor were 
 tipped with white. Also, although the tide was 
 almost at its lowest, streaks of seaweed across the 
 road showed where it had reached that forenoon, 
 and prophesied even a greater flood that night. 
 He turned his head and gazed up the harbor to 
 where it narrowed and became Pounddug Slough. 
 In the Slough, near its ocean extremity, his old 
 schooner, the Daisy M., lay stranded. He had 
 not visited her for a week, and he wondered if 
 the " spell of weather " had injured her to any 
 extent. This speculation, however, was but mo 
 mentary. The Daisy M. must look out for her 
 self. His business was to reach Judge Gould s, 
 in Denboro, before Mrs. Bascom and Bennie D. 
 could arrange with that prominent citizen and 
 legal light for the threatened divorce. 
 
 That they had started for Judge Gould s he 
 did not doubt for a moment. I shall seek the 
 nearest lawyer," Bennie D. had said. And the 
 judge was the nearest. They must be going 
 there, or why should they take that road? 
 Neither did he doubt now that their object was 
 to secure the divorce. How divorces were se- 
 
 283
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 cured, or how long it took to get one, Seth cL* 
 not know. His sole knowledge on that subject 
 was derived from the newspapers and comic 
 weeklies, and he remembered reading of places 
 in the West where lawyers with the necessary 
 blanks in their pockets met applicants at the ar 
 rival of one train and sent them away, rejoLing 
 and free, on the next. 
 
 "You jump right off the cars and then 
 Turn round and jump right on again." 
 
 This fragment of a song, sung at a " moving- 
 picture " show in the town hall, and resung many 
 times thereafter by Ezra Payne, John Brown s 
 predecessor as assistant keeper at the lights, re 
 curred to him as he urged the weary Joshua on 
 ward. So far as Seth knew, the Reno custom 
 might be universal. At any rate, he must get 
 to Judge Gould s before Emeline and her 
 brother-in-law left there. What he should do 
 when he arrived and found them there was im 
 material; he must get there, that was all. 
 
 Eastboro Back Harbor was left behind, and 
 the long stretch of woods beyond was entered. 
 Joshua, his hoofs swollen by the sticky clay to 
 yellow cannon balls, plodded on, but, in spite of 
 
 284
 
 THE VOYAGE OF THE DAISY M. 
 
 commands and pleadings the lightkeeper pos 
 sessed no whip and would not have used one if 
 he had he went slower and slower. He was 
 walking now, and limping sadly on the foot 
 where the loose shoe hung by its bent and broken 
 nails. 
 
 Five miles, six, seven, and the limp was worse 
 than ever. Seth, whose conscience smote him, 
 got out of the carriage into the rain and mud 
 and attempted repairs, using a stone as a ham 
 mer. This seemed to help matters some, but it 
 was almost dark when the granite block mark 
 ing the township line was passed, and the win 
 dows in the houses were alight when he pulled 
 up at the judge s door. 
 
 The judge himself answered the knock, or 
 series of knocks. He seemed much surprised to 
 find the keeper of Eastboro Twin-Lights stand 
 ing on his front step. 
 
 " Why, hello, Atkins! " he cried. " What in 
 the world are you doing over here? a night like 
 this!" 
 
 " Has has Mrs. Bascom been here? Is she 
 here now? " panted Seth anxiously. 
 
 "Mrs. Bascom? Who is Mrs. Bascom?" 
 
 " She she s a friend of mine. She and and 
 
 285
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 a relation of hers was comin over here to see 
 you on business. Ain t they here? Ain t they 
 been here? " 
 
 " No. No one has been here this afternoon. 
 I ve been in since one o clock, and not a soul has 
 called, on business or otherwise." 
 
 The lightkeeper could scarcely believe it. 
 You re sure? " he demanded. 
 
 " Certainly. If they came before one my wife 
 would have told me, I think. I ll ask her." 
 
 " No, no," hastily. " You needn t. If they 
 ain t been since one they ain t been. But I don t 
 understand. . . . There s no other lawyer nigh 
 here, is there? " 
 
 " No; none nearer than Bayport." 
 
 "My land I My land! Then then I m out 
 of soundin s somehow. They never came for it, 
 after all." 
 
 "Came for what?" 
 
 " Nothin , nothin , I guess," with a sickly 
 smile. " I ve made some sort of mistake, though 
 I don t know how. Benije must have . . . I ll 
 break that feller s neck; I will!" 
 
 The lawyer began to share the blacksmith s 
 opinion that his caller had gone crazy. 
 
 " Come in, Atkins," he urged. " Come in out 
 286
 
 THE VOYAGE OF THE DAISY M. 
 
 of the wet. What is the matter? What are you 
 doing here at this time of night so far from the 
 Lights? Is it anything serious? Come in and 
 tell me about it." 
 
 But Seth, instead of accepting the invitation, 
 stared at him aghast. Then, turning about, he 
 leaped down the steps, ran to the wagon and 
 climbed in. 
 
 " Giddap ! " he shouted. Poor, tired Joshua 
 lifted his clay-daubed hoofs. 
 
 "You re not going back?" cried Gould. 
 " Hold on, Atkins ! Wait!" 
 
 But Seth did not wait. Already he had turned 
 his horse s head toward Eastboro, and was driv 
 ing off. The lawyer stood still, amazedly looking 
 after him. Then he went into the house and 
 spent the next quarter of an hour trying to call 
 the Twin-Lights by telephone. As the north 
 east wind had finished what the northwest one 
 had begun and the wire was down, his attempt 
 was unsuccessful. He gave it up after a time 
 and sat down to discuss the astonishing affair 
 with his wife. He was worried. 
 
 But his worriment was as nothing compared 
 to Seth s. The lawyer s reference to the Lights 
 had driven even matrimonial troubles from th 
 
 287
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 Atkins mind. The lights! the Twin-Lights! It 
 was long past the time for them to be lit, and 
 there was no one to light them but Brown, a 
 green hand. Were they lit at all? If not, heaven 
 knew what might happen or had happened 
 already. 
 
 He had thought of this before, of course, had 
 vaguely realized that he was betraying his trust, 
 but then he had not cared. The Lights, his po 
 sition as keeper, everything, were side issues com 
 pared with the one thing to be done, the get 
 ting to Denboro. He had reached Denboro and 
 found his journey all a mistake; his wife and 
 Bennie D. had not, apparently, visited that vil 
 lage; perhaps had not even started for it. There 
 fore, in a measure relieved, he thought of other 
 things. He was many miles from his post of 
 duty, and now his sole idea was to get back 
 to it. 
 
 At ten o clock Mrs. Hepsibah Deacon, a 
 widow living in a little house in the woods on the 
 top of the hill on the Denboro side of Eastboro 
 Back Harbor, with no neighbors for a mile in 
 either direction, was awakened by shouts under 
 her bedroom window. Opening that window she 
 thrust forth her head. 
 
 288
 
 THE VOYAGE OF THE DAISY M. 
 
 "Who is it?* she demanded quaveringly. 
 "What s the matter? Is anything afire?" 
 
 From the blackness of the rain and fog emerged 
 a vague shape. 
 
 :t It s me, Mrs, Deacon; Seth Atkins, down to 
 the Lights, you know. I ve left my horse and 
 carriage in your barn. Josh he s the horse is 
 gone lame and played himself out. He can t 
 walk another step. I ve unharnessed him and 
 left him in the stall. He ll be all right. I ve 
 given him some water and hay. Just let him stay 
 there, if it ain t too much trouble, and I ll send 
 for him to-morrer and pay for his keep. It s all 
 right, ain t it? Much obliged. Good night." 
 
 Before the frightened widow could ask a ques 
 tion or utter a word he was gone, ploughing 
 down the hill in the direction of the Back Har 
 bor. When he reached the foot of that hill 
 where the road should have been, he found that 
 it had disappeared. The tide had risen and 
 covered it. 
 
 It was pitch-dark, the rain was less heavy, and 
 clouds of fog were drifting in before the wind. 
 Seth waded on for a short distance, but soon 
 realized that wading would be an impossibility. 
 Then, as in despair, he was about ready to give 
 
 289
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 up the attempt, a dark object came into view 
 beside him. It was a dory belonging to one of 
 the lobstermen, which, at the end of its long an 
 chor rope, had swung inshore until it floated 
 almost over the road. Seth seized it in time to 
 prevent collision with his knees. The thole pins 
 were in place, and the oars laid lengthwise on its 
 thwarts. As his hands touched the gunwale a 
 new idea came to him. 
 
 He had intended walking the rest of the way 
 to Eastboro, routing out the liveryman and hiring 
 a horse and buggy with which to reach the Lights. 
 Now he believed chance had offered him an easier 
 and more direct method of travel. He could 
 row up the Harbor and Slough, land close to 
 where the Daisy M. lay, and walk the rest of the 
 way in a very short time. He climbed into the 
 dory, pulled up the anchor, and seated himself 
 at the oars. 
 
 The bottom of the boat was two inches deep 
 with rain water, and the thwart was dripping and 
 cold. Seth, being already about as wet as he 
 could be, did not mind this, but pulled with long 
 strokes out into the harbor. The vague black 
 shadows of the land disappeared, and in a minute 
 he was, so far as his eyes could tell him, afloat 
 
 290
 
 THE VOYAGE OF THE DAISY M. 
 
 on a shoreless sea. He had no compass, but this 
 did not trouble him. The wind, he knew, was 
 blowing directly from the direction he wished to 
 go, and he kept the dory s bow in the teeth of it. 
 He rowed on and on. The waves, out here in the 
 deep water, were of good size, and the spray flew 
 as he splashed into them. He knew that he was 
 likely to get off the course, but the Back Harbor 
 was, except for its upper entrance, landlocked, 
 and he could not go far astray, no matter where 
 he might hit the shore. 
 
 The fog clouds, driven by the squalls, drifted 
 by and passed. At rare intervals the sky was 
 almost clear. After he had rowed for half an 
 hour and was beginning to think he must be 
 traveling in circles, one of these clear intervals 
 came and, far off to the left, and ahead, he saw 
 something which caused him to utter an exclama 
 tion of joy. Two fiery eyes shone through the 
 dark. The fog shut them in again almost im 
 mediately, but that one glance was sufficient to 
 show that all was well at the post he had de 
 serted. The fiery eyes were the lanterns in the 
 Twin-Lights towers. John Brown had been equal 
 to the emergency, and the lamps were lighted. 
 
 Seth s anxiety was relieved, but that one 
 291
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 glimpse made him even more eager for home. 
 He rowed on for a short time, and then began 
 edging in toward the invisible left-hand shore. 
 Judging by the length of time he had been rowing, 
 he must be close to the mouth of the Slough, 
 where, winding through the salt marshes, it 
 emerged into the Back Harbor. 
 
 He crept in nearer and nearer, but no shore 
 came in sight. The fog was now so thick that 
 he could see not more than ten feet from the 
 boat, but if he was in the mouth of the Slough 
 he should have grounded on the marsh bank long 
 before. The reason that he did not, a reason 
 which did not occur to him at the time, was that 
 the marshes were four feet under water. Owing 
 to the tremendous tide Pounddug Slough was 
 now merely a continuation of the Harbor and 
 almost as wide. 
 
 The lightkeeper began to think that he must 
 have miscalculated his distance. He could not 
 have rowed as far as he thought. Therefore, he 
 again turned the dory s nose into the teeth of the 
 wind and pulled steadily on. At intervals he 
 stopped and listened. All he heard was the 
 mdan of distant foghorns and the whistling of 
 the gusts in trees somewhere at his left. There 
 
 292
 
 THE VOYAGE OF THE DAISY M. 
 
 were pine groves scattered all along the bluffs on 
 the Eastboro side, so this did not help him much 
 except to prove that the shore was not far away. 
 He pulled harder on the right oar. Then he 
 stopped once more to listen. 
 
 Another blast howled through the distant trees 
 and swept down upon him. Then, borne on the 
 wind, he heard from somewhere ahead, and 
 alarmingly near at hand, other sounds, voices, 
 calls for help. 
 
 "Ahoy!" he shouted. "Ahoy there! Who 
 is it? Where are you?" 
 
 "Help!" came the calls again and nearer. 
 " Help ! " 
 
 "Look out!" roared Seth, peering excitedly 
 over his shoulder into the dark. " Where are 
 you? Look out or you ll be afoul of . . . 
 Jumpin Judas ! " 
 
 For out of the fog loomed a bulky shape 
 driving down upon him. He pulled frantically 
 at the oars, but it was too late. A mast rocked 
 against the sky, a stubby bowsprit shot over the 
 dory, and the little boat, struck broadside on, 
 heeled to the water s edge. Seth, springing fran 
 tically upward, seized the bowsprit and clung to 
 it. The dory, pushed aside and half full of wa- 
 20 293
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 tcr, disappeared. From the deck behind the bow 
 sprit two voices, a man s voice and a woman s, 
 screamed wildly. 
 
 Seth did not scream. Clinging to the reeling 
 bowsprit, he swung up on it, edged his way to the 
 vessel s bows and stepped upon the deck. 
 
 "For thunder sakes!" he roared angrily, 
 "what kind of navigation s this? Where s your 
 lights, you lubbers? What d you mean by 
 W 7 here are you anyhow? And and what schoon 
 er s this?" 
 
 For the deck, as much as he could see of it 
 in the dark, looked astonishingly familiar. As he 
 stumbled aft it became more familiar still. The 
 ropes, a combination of new and old, the new 
 boards in the deck planking, the general arrange 
 ment of things, as familiar to him as the ar 
 rangement of furniture in the kitchen of the 
 Lights ! It could not be ... but it was ! The 
 little schooner was his own, his hobby, his after 
 noon workshop the Daisy M. herself. The 
 Daisy M., which he had last seen stranded and, 
 as he supposed, hard and fast aground! The 
 Daisy M. afloat, after all these years! 
 
 From the stern by the cabin hatch a man 
 came reeling toward him, holding to the rail for 
 
 294
 
 THE VOYAGE OF THE DAISY M. 
 
 support with one hand and brandishing the 
 other. 
 
 " Help! " cried the man wildly. " Who is it? 
 Help us ! we re drowning ! We re . . . Can t you 
 put us ashore. Please put us ... Good Lord! " 
 
 Seth made no answer. How could he? The 
 man was Bennie D. 
 
 And then another figure followed the first, and 
 a woman s voice spoke pleadingly. 
 
 "Have you got a boat?" it cried. "We re 
 adrift on this dreadful thing and . . . why, 
 Sethi " 
 
 The woman was Emeline Bascom. 
 
 "Why, Seth!" she said again. Then the 
 sounds of the wind and waves and the creaking 
 and cracking of the old schooner alone broke the 
 silence. 
 
 But Bennie D., even under the shock of such a 
 surprise as this, did not remain silent long. His 
 precious self was in danger. 
 
 "You put us ashore!" he shouted. "You 
 put us ashore right off, do you hear? Don t stand 
 there like a fool ! Do something. Do you want 
 us to drown? Do something! " 
 
 Seth came to life. His first speech was sharp 
 and businesslike. 
 
 295
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " Emeline," he said, " there s a lantern hang 
 ing up in the cabin. Go light it and fetch it to 
 me. Hurry! " 
 
 " It s upset," was the frightened answer. 
 " Bennie found it when we first came aboard. 
 When we when this awful boat started, it upset 
 and went out." 
 
 " Never mind. Probably there s ile enough 
 left for a spell. Go fetch it. There s matches 
 in a box on the wall just underneath where twas 
 hangin . Don t stop to talk! Move! " 
 
 Mrs. Bascom moved. Seth turned to the " in 
 ventor." 
 
 " Come for ard with me," he ordered. 
 "Here! this way! for ard! for ard!" 
 
 He seized his companion by the arm and pulled 
 him toward the bow. The frightened genius held 
 back. 
 
 "What in time is the matter with you?" 
 snarled the lightkeeper. " Are your feet asleep ? 
 Come!" 
 
 Bennie D. came, under compulsion. Seth half 
 led, half dragged him to the bow, and, bending 
 down, uncoiled a rope and put it in his hands. 
 
 " Them s the jib halliards," he explained. 
 " Haul on em quick and hard as you can. If we 
 
 296
 
 THE VOYAGE OF THE DAISY M. 
 
 can h ist the jib we can get some steerage way on 
 her, maybe. Haul ! haul till you can t haul 
 no more. Then hang on till I come back and 
 make fast." 
 
 He rushed back to the wheel. The tiller ropes 
 were new, and he could trust them, fortunately. 
 From the cabin hatchway emerged Mrs. Bascom 
 bearing the lighted lantern. 
 
 "Good!" snapped Seth. "Now we can see 
 what we re doin and, if we show a glim, maybe 
 we won t run down no more dories. You go 
 for ard and No, you take this wheel and hold 
 it just as tis. Just as tis; understand? I ll be 
 back in a jiffy. What in thunder s the matter 
 with that foolhead at the jib?" 
 
 He seized the lantern and rushed to the bow. 
 Bennic D. had dropped the halliard and was 
 leaning over the rail screaming for help. 
 
 Seth hoisted the jib himself, made it fast, and 
 then turned his attention to the mutinous hand. 
 
 " Shut up ! " he bellowed, catching him by the 
 arm. Who do you cal late s goin to hear you? 
 Shut up ! You come with me. I want you to 
 pump. The old craft would do well enough if 
 she was tight, but she s more n likely takin water 
 like a sieve. You come and pump." 
 
 297
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 But Bennie had no notion of pumping. With 
 a jerk he tore loose from the lightkeeper s grasp 
 and ran to the stern, where he continued his howls 
 for help. 
 
 Seth was at his heels. 
 
 " Stop that, I tell you," he commanded angrily. 
 " It don t do no good. If you don t want to go 
 to the bottom you ll work that pump. Don t be 
 such a clown." 
 
 The frantic genius paid no attention. His sis 
 ter-in-law left the wheel and put her hand 
 on his shoulder. " Please, Bennie," she pleaded. 
 " Please do as he says. He knows, and " 
 
 Bennie D. pushed her backward with savage 
 force. " Mind your own business," he yelled 
 with an oath. " Twas your foolishness got me 
 into this." Then, leaning over the rail, he called 
 shrilly, "He Ip! I m drowning! Help!" 
 
 Mrs. Bascom staggered back against the wheel, 
 which Seth had seized the instant she deserted it. 
 "Oh! "she said, "you hurt me." 
 
 Her husband freed an arm and put it about 
 her. " Are you much hurt, Emeline? " he asked 
 sharply. 
 
 " No o. No, Seth. I I guess I ain t really 
 hurt at all." 
 
 298
 
 THE VOYAGE OF THE DAISY M. 
 
 " Good! Then you take this wheel and hold 
 her just so. That s it. And don t you drop it 
 again. I ll attend to this feller." 
 
 His wiry fingers locked themselves in Bennie 
 D. s shirt collar. 
 
 " I ordered you to pump," said Seth. " Now 
 then, you come and pump ! " 
 
 " Let go ! " screamed his captive. " Take your 
 hands off me, or " 
 
 The back of his head striking the deck put a 
 period in the middle of his sentence. The next 
 moment he was being dragged by the collar to 
 the little hand pump amidships. 
 
 "Pump!" roared the lightkeeper. "Pump I 
 or I ll break your everlastin neck. Lively 
 now!" 
 
 The dazed genius rose to his knees. 
 
 " What" he stammered. " Where " 
 
 Right there in front of you. Lively, you 
 lubber!" 
 
 A well-directed kick helped to facilitate liveli 
 ness. 
 
 "What shall I do?" wailed Bennie D., fum 
 bling the pump brake. ; How does it go? " 
 
 " Up and down so." Seth jerked his vic 
 tim s head up and down, by way of illustration. 
 
 299
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " Now, then," he continued, " you pump till I 
 say quit, or I ll I swan to man I ll make a spare 
 tops ! out of your hide! " 
 
 He left the inventor working as he had not 
 worked in the memory of man, and strode back 
 to the wheel. Mrs. Bascom was clinging to the 
 spokes for dear life. 
 
 " I I ain t dropped it, Seth," she declared. 
 11 Truly I ain t." 
 
 " All right. You can drop it now. I ll take it 
 myself. You set down and rest." 
 
 He took the wheel and she collapsed, breath 
 less, against the rail. After a time she ventured 
 to ask a question. 
 
 " Seth! " she said, " how do you know which 
 way to steer? " 
 
 " I don t," was the reply. " All I m tryin to 
 do is keep her afore it. If this no theast wind 
 would hold, we d be all right, but it s dyin fast. 
 And the tide must be at flood, if not startin to 
 go out. With no wind, and no anchor, and the 
 kind of ebb tide there ll be pretty soon well, if 
 we don t drift out to sea we ll be lucky. . . . 
 Pump! pump! you son of a roustabout. If I 
 hear you stoppin for a second I ll come for ard 
 and murder you." 
 
 300
 
 THE VOYAGE OF THE DAISY M. 
 
 Bennie D., who had ventured to rest for a 
 moment, bent his aching back to the task. 
 Was this man-slaughtering tyrant his mild-man 
 nered, meek brother-in-law, the creature whom 
 he had brow-beaten so often and managed so 
 effectively? He could not understand but he 
 pumped. 
 
 Perhaps Seth did not understand, either; per 
 haps he did not try to. Yet the explanation was 
 simple and natural. The sea, the emergency, the 
 danger, his own deck beneath his feet these 
 were like old times, here was a situation he knew 
 how to handle. He forgot that he was a light- 
 keeper absent from duty, forgot that one of his 
 passengers was the wife he had run away from, 
 and the other his bugbear, the dreaded and for 
 midable Bennie D. He forgot all this and was 
 again the able seaman, the Tartar skipper who, 
 in former days, made his crews fear, respect, and 
 swear by him. 
 
 And he reveled in his authority. Once Mrs. 
 Bascom rose to peer over the rail. 
 
 " Emeline," he snapped, " didn t I tell you to 
 set down and set still? Must I give orders twice? 
 Set down! " 
 
 Emeline " set." 
 
 301
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 The wind died to fitful gusts. The schooner 
 barely moved. The fog was as thick as ever. 
 Still Seth did not lose courage. When the house 
 keeper ventured to murmur that she was certain 
 they would drown, he reassured her. 
 
 " Keep your pennant mast-high, Emeline," he 
 said cheerfully. " We ain t out at sea, that s 
 sure and sartin. And, until we get in the break 
 ers, we re safe enough. The old gal leaks some; 
 she ain t as dry as a Good-Templar prayer meet- 
 in , but she s afloat. And when I m afloat I ain t 
 afraid, and you needn t be." 
 
 Some time after that he asked a question in 
 his turn. 
 
 " Emeline," he said, " what in the world are 
 you doin here, on my schooner?" 
 
 Your schooner, Seth? Yours? Is this 
 dreadful is this boat yours? " 
 
 Yup. She s mine. I bought her just for fun 
 a long spell ago, and I ve been fussin with her 
 ever since. But I did it for fun; I never s posed 
 she d take a cruise like this. And what are you 
 and him doin on her? " 
 
 Mrs. Bascom hesitated. " It was all an acci 
 dent, Seth," she explained. This has been an 
 awful night and day. Bennie and I was out 
 
 302
 
 THE VOYAGE OF THE DAISY M. 
 
 ridin together, and we took the wrong road. 
 We got lost, and the rain was awful. We got 
 out of the buggy to stand under some trees where 
 twas drier. The horse got scared at some limbs 
 fallin and run off. Then it was most dark, and 
 we got down to the shore and saw this boat. 
 There wa n t any water round her then. Bennie, 
 he climbed aboard and said the cabin was dry, 
 so we went into it to wait for the storm to let up. 
 But it kept gettin worse. When we came out of 
 the cabin it was all fog like this and water every 
 where. Bennie was afraid to wade, for we 
 couldn t see the shore, so we went back into the 
 cabin again. And then, all at once, there was a 
 bump that knocked us both sprawlin . The lan 
 tern went out, and when we come on deck we were 
 afloat. It was terrible. And then and then you 
 came, Seth, and saved our lives." 
 
 " Humph ! Maybe they ain t saved yet. . . . 
 Emeline, where was you drivin to? " 
 
 Why, we was drivin home, or thought we 
 was." 
 
 "Home?" 
 
 Yes, home back to the bungalow." 
 
 "You was?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 303
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 A pause. Then: " Emeline, there s no use 
 your tellin me what ain t so. I know more than 
 you think I do, maybe. If you was drivin home 
 why did you take the Denboro road?" 
 
 1 The Denboro road? Why, we only went on 
 that a ways. Then we turned off on what we 
 thought was the road to the Lights. But it 
 wa n t; it must have been the other, the one that 
 goes along by the edge of the Back Harbor and 
 the Slough, the one that s hardly ever used. 
 Seth," indignantly, " what do you mean by sayin 
 that I told you what wa n t so? Do you think I 
 lie?" 
 
 " No. No more than you thought I lied about 
 mat Christy critter." 
 
 " Seth, I was always sorry for that. I knew 
 you didn t lie. At least I ought to have known 
 you didn t. I " 
 
 " Wait. What did you take the Denboro road 
 ar all for?" 
 
 - Why why Well, Seth, I ll tell you. Ben- 
 nie wanted to talk to me. He had come on pur 
 pose to see me, and he wanted me to do somethin 
 that that . . . Anyhow, he d come to see me. 
 I didn t know he was comin . I hadn t heard 
 from him for two years. That letter I got this 
 
 304
 
 THE VOYAGE OF THE DAISY M. 
 
 yesterday mornin was from him, and it most 
 knocked me over." 
 
 You hadn t heard from him? Ain t he been 
 writin you right along? " 
 
 " No. The fact is he left me two years ago 
 without even sayin good-by, and and I thought 
 he had gone for good. But he hadn t," with a 
 sigh, " he hadn t. And he wanted to talk with 
 me. That s why he took the other road so s 
 he d have more time to talk, I s pose." 
 
 " Humph I Emeline, answer me true : Wa n t 
 you goin to Denboro to get to get a divorce 
 from me? " 
 
 " A divorce? A divorce from you? Seth Bas- 
 com, I never heard such " 
 
 She rose from her seat against the rail. 
 
 " Set down," ordered her husband sharply. 
 You set down and keep down." 
 
 She stared, gasped, and resumed her seat. Seth 
 gazed straight ahead into the blackness. He 
 swallowed once or twice, and his hands tightened 
 on the spokes of the wheel. 
 
 That that feller there," nodding grimly 
 toward the groaning figure at the pumps, " told 
 me himself that him and you had agreed to get 
 a divorce from me to get it right off. He give 
 
 35
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 me to understand that you expected him, twas all 
 settled and that was why he d come to Eastboro. 
 That s what he told me this afternoon on the de 
 pot platform." 
 
 Mrs. Bascom again sprang up. 
 
 " Set down! " commanded Seth. 
 
 " I won t." 
 Yes, you will. Set down." And she did. 
 
 " Seth," she cried, " did he did Bennie tell 
 you that? Did he? Why, I never heard such a 
 I never I Seth, it ain t true, not a word of it. 
 Did you think I d get a divorce? Me? A self- 
 respectin woman? And from you? " 
 
 " You turned me adrift." 
 
 " I didn t. You turned yourself adrift. I was 
 in trouble, bound by a promise I give my dyin 
 husband, to give his brother a home while I had 
 one. I didn t want to do it; I didn t want him 
 with us there, where we d been so happy. But 
 / couldn t say anything. / couldn t turn him out. 
 And you wouldn t, you 
 
 She was interrupted. From beneath the Daisy 
 A/. J keel came a long, scraping noise. The little 
 schooner shook, and then lay still. The waves, 
 no longer large, slapped her sides. 
 
 Mrs. Bascom, startled, uttered a little scream. 
 306
 
 THE VOYAGE OF THE DAISY M. 
 
 Bennie D., knocked to his knees, roared in fright. 
 Seth alone was calm. Nothing, at that moment, 
 could alarm or even surprise him. 
 
 "Humph!" he observed, "we re aground 
 somewheres. And in the Harbor. We re safe 
 and sound now, I cal late. Emeline, go below 
 where it s dry and stay there. Don t talk go. 
 As for you," leaving the wheel and striding 
 toward the weary inventor, " you can stop pump- 
 in unless," with a grim smile, " you like it too 
 well to quit and set down right where you 
 be. Right where you be, I said! Don t you 
 move till I say the word. When I say it, 
 jump! " 
 
 He went forward, lowered the jib, and coiled 
 the halliards. Then, lantern in hand, he seated 
 himself in the bows. After a time he filled his 
 pipe, lit it by the aid of the lantern, and smoked. 
 There was silence aboard the Daisy M. 
 
 The wind died away altogether. The fog 
 gradually disappeared. From somewhere not far 
 away a church clock struck the hour. Seth heard 
 it and smiled. Turning his head he saw in the 
 distance the Twin-Lights burning steadily. He 
 smiled again. 
 
 Gradually, slowly, the morning came. The 
 
 307
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 last remnant of low-hanging mist drifted away. 
 Before the bows of the stranded schooner ap 
 peared a flat shore with a road, still partially 
 covered by the receding tide, along its border. 
 Fish houses and anchored dories became visible. 
 Behind them were hills, and over them roofs and 
 trees and steeples. 
 
 A step sounded behind the watcher in the 
 bows. Mrs. Bascom was at his elbow. 
 
 "Why, Seth!" she cried, "why, Seth! it s 
 Eastboro, ain t it? We re close to Eastboro." 
 
 Seth nodded. " It s Eastboro," he said. " I 
 cal lated we must be there or thereabouts. With 
 that no theast breeze to help us we couldn t do 
 much else but fetch up at the inner end of the 
 Back Harbor." 
 
 She laid her hand timidly on his arm. 
 
 " Seth," she whispered, " what should we have 
 done without you? You saved our lives." 
 
 He swung about and faced her. " Emeline," 
 he said, " we ve both been awful fools. I ve been 
 the biggest one, I guess. But I ve learned my 
 lesson I ve swore off I told you I d prove I 
 was a man. Do you think I ve been one to 
 night?" 
 
 "Seth!" 
 
 308
 
 THE VOYAGE OF THE DAISY M. 
 
 Well, do you? Or," with a gesture toward 
 the " genius " who was beginning to take an in 
 terest in his surroundings, " do you like that kind 
 better?" 
 
 " Seth," reproachfully, " I never liked him 
 better. If you had " 
 
 She was interrupted by her brother-in-law, who 
 came swaggering toward them. With the sight 
 of land and safety, Bennie D. s courage returned; 
 also, his old assurance. 
 
 " Humph ! " he observed. " Well, sister, we 
 are safe, I really believe. In spite of," with a 
 glare at the lightkeeper, " this person s insane 
 recklessness and brutality. Now I will take you 
 ashore and out of his presence." 
 
 Seth rose to his feet. 
 
 " Didn t I tell you," he demanded, " not to 
 move till I said the word? Emeline, stay right 
 here." 
 
 Bennie D. stared at the speaker; then at his 
 sister-in-law. 
 
 " Sister," he cried, in growing alarm, " sister, 
 come! come! we re going ashore, I tell you. 
 What are you waiting for? " 
 
 Seth put his arm about the lady. 
 
 " She is goin ashore," he said. " But she s 
 21 309
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 goin with me, and she s goin to stay with me. 
 Ain t you, Emeline?" 
 
 The lady looked up into his face and then 
 down again. u If you want me, Seth," she said. 
 
 Bennie D. sprang forward. " Emeline," he 
 shrieked, "what do you mean? Are you going 
 to leave me? Have you forgotten " 
 
 " She ain t forgot nothin ," broke in Seth. 
 41 But you re forgettin what I told you. Will 
 you go aft there and set down, or shall I make 
 you?" 
 
 " But but, Emeline sister have you forgot 
 ten your promise to your dying husband? To my 
 brother? You promised to give me a home as 
 long as you owned one." 
 
 Then Seth played his trump. 
 
 " She don t own any home," he declared tri 
 umphantly. " She sold her house, and she ain t 
 got any home except the one I m goin to give 
 her. And if you ever dare to show your head 
 inside of that, I ll I ll heave you over both 
 lights. If you think I m foolin , just try and see. 
 Now then, Emeline." 
 
 And, with his wife in his arms, Seth Atkins 
 Seth Atkins Bascom Captain Seth Atkins Bas- 
 com swung over the rail and waded to land. 
 
 310
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE EBB TIDE 
 
 JOHN BROWN," his long night s vigil over, 
 extinguished the lights in the two towers, 
 descended the Iron stairs, and walked across 
 the yard into the kitchen. His first move, after 
 entering the house, was to ring the telephone bell 
 and endeavor to call Eastboro. He was anxious 
 concerning Atkins. Seth had not returned, and 
 the substitute assistant was certain that some ac 
 cident must have befallen him. The storm had 
 been severe, but it would take more than weather 
 to keep the lightkeeper from his post; if he was 
 all right he would have managed to return some 
 how. 
 
 Brown rang the bell time and time again, but 
 got no response. The storm had wrecked the 
 wires, that was certain, and that means of com 
 munication was cut off. He kindled the fire in the 
 range and tried to forget his anxiety by prepar-
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 ing breakfast. When it was prepared he waited 
 a while and then sat down to a lonely meal. But 
 he had no appetite, and, after dallying with the 
 food on his plate, gave it up and went outside to 
 look about him. 
 
 The first thing he looked at was the road from 
 the village. No sign of life in that direction as 
 far as he could see. Then he looked at the 
 bungalow. Early as it was, a thread of blue 
 smoke was ascending from the chimney. Did 
 that mean that the housekeeper had returned? 
 Or had Ruth Graham been alone all through the 
 miserable night? Under ordinary circumstances 
 he would have gone over and asked if all was 
 well. He would have done that, even if Seth 
 were at home he was past the point where the 
 lightkeeper or their compact could have pre 
 vented him but he could not muster courage to 
 go now. She must have found the note he had 
 tucked under the door, and he was afraid to hear 
 her answer. If it should be no, then well, then 
 he did not care what became of him. 
 
 He watched the bungalow for a time, hoping 
 that she might come out that he might at least 
 see her but the door did not open. Auguring 
 all sorts of dismal things from this, he moped 
 
 312
 
 THE EBB TIDE 
 
 gloomily back to the kitchen. He was tired and 
 had not slept for thirty hours, but he felt no de 
 sire for bed. He could not go to bed anyway 
 until Atkins returned and he did not want to. 
 
 He sat down in a chair and idly picked up one 
 of a pile of newspapers lying in the corner. They 
 were the New York and Boston papers which 
 the grocery boy had brought over from East- 
 boro, with the mail, the previous day. Seth had 
 not even looked at them, and Brown, who seldom 
 or never read newspapers, found that he could 
 not do so now. He tossed them on the table and 
 once more went out of doors. After another 
 glance at the bungalow, he walked to the edge of 
 the bluff and looked over. 
 
 He was astonished to see how far the tide had 
 risen in the night. The line of seaweed and drift 
 marking its highest point was well up the bank. 
 Now the ebb was foaming past the end of the 
 wharf. He looked for the lobster car, which 
 should have been floating at its moorings, but 
 could not see it. Either it was under the wharf 
 or it had been swept away and was gone. And 
 one of the dories was gone, too. No, there it 
 was, across the cove, high and dry on the beach. 
 If so much damage was visible from where he 
 
 313
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 stood, it was probable that a closer examination 
 might show even more. He reentered the kitchen, 
 took the boathouse key from its nail the key to 
 Seth s wonderful purchase, the spring lock which 
 was to keep out thieves and had so far been of 
 no use except as a trouble-maker and started 
 for the wharf. As he passed the table he picked 
 up the bundle of newspapers and took them with 
 him. The boathouse was the repository for rub- 
 bish, old papers and magazines included, and 
 these might as well be added to the heap. At 
 kins had not read this particular lot, but the sub 
 stitute assistant did not think of this. 
 
 The lobster car was not under the wharf. The 
 ropes which had moored it were broken, and the 
 car was gone. Splinters and dents in the piles 
 showed where it had banged and thumped in the 
 grasp of the tide before breaking loose. And, 
 lying flat on the wharf and peering under it, it 
 seemed to him that the piles themselves were a 
 trifle aslant; that the whole wharf had settled 
 down on the outer side. 
 
 He rose and was about to go further out for 
 another examination, when his foot struck the pile 
 of papers he had brought with him. He picked 
 them up, and, unlocking the boathouse door it
 
 THE EBB TIDE 
 
 stuck and required considerable effort to open it 
 entered the building, tossed the papers on the 
 floor, and turned to go out. Before he could do 
 so the door swung shut with a bang and a click. 
 
 At first he did not realize what the click meant. 
 Not until he tried to open it did he understand. 
 The settling of the wharf had thrown the door 
 and its frame out of the perpendicular. That 
 was why it stuck and opened with such reluctance. 
 When he opened it, he had, so to speak, pushed 
 it uphill. Its own weight had swung it back, and 
 the spring lock in which he had left the key 
 had worked exactly as the circular of directions 
 declared it would do. He was a prisoner in that 
 boathouse. 
 
 Even then he did not fully grasp the situation. 
 He uttered an exclamation of impatience and 
 tugged at the door; but it was heavy, jammed 
 tight in its frame, and the lock was new and 
 strong. He might as well have tried to pull up 
 the wharf. 
 
 After a minute of fruitless effort he gave up 
 the attempt on the door and moved about the 
 little building, seeking other avenues of escape. 
 The only window was a narrow affair, high up 
 at the back, hung on hinges and fastened with a 
 
 315
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 hook and staple. He climbed up on the fish nets 
 and empty boxes, got the window open, and 
 thrust his head and one shoulder through the 
 opening. That, however, was as far as he could 
 go. A dwarf might have squeezed through that 
 window, but not an ex-varsity athlete like Russell 
 Brooks or a husky longshoreman like " John 
 Brown." It was at the back, facing the mouth 
 of the creek and the sea, and afforded a beautiful 
 marine view, but that was all. He dropped back 
 on the fish nets and audibly expressed his opinion 
 of the lock and the man who had bought it. 
 
 Then he tried the door again, again gave it up, 
 and sat down on the fish nets to think. Thinking 
 was unsatisfactory and provoking. He gave that 
 up, also, and, seeing a knothole in one of the 
 boards in the landward side of his jail, knelt and 
 applied his eye to the aperture. His only hope 
 of freedom, apparently, lay in the arrival home 
 of the lightkeeper. If Seth had arrived he could 
 shout through that knothole and possibly be 
 heard. 
 
 The knothole, however, commanded a view, 
 not of the lighthouse buildings, but of the cove 
 and the bungalow. The bungalow! Ruth Gra 
 ham ! Suddenly, and with a shock, .flashed to his 
 
 316
 
 THE EBB TIDE 
 
 mind the thought that his imprisonment, if at all 
 prolonged, was likely to be, not a joke, but the 
 most serious catastrophe of his life. 
 
 For Ruth Graham was going to leave the 
 bungalow and Eastboro that very day. He had 
 begged to see her once more, and this day was 
 his last chance. He had written her, pleading 
 to see her and receive his answer. If he did not 
 see her, if Seth did not return before long and 
 he remained where he was, a prisoner and in 
 visible, the last chance was gone. Ruth would 
 believe he had repented of his declaration as em 
 bodied in the fateful note, and had fled from her. 
 She had intimated that he was a coward in not 
 seeing his fiancee and telling her the truth. She 
 did not like his writing that other girl and run 
 ning away. Now she would believe the cow 
 ardice was inherent, because he had written her, 
 also and had run away. Horrible! 
 
 Through the knothole he sent a yell for rescue. 
 Another and another. They were unheard at 
 least, no one emerged from the bungalow. He 
 sprang to his feet and made another circle of the 
 interior of the boathouse. Then he sank down 
 upon the heap of nets and again tried to think. 
 He must get out. He must somehow! 
 
 317
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 The morning sunshine streamed through the 
 little window and fell directly upon the pile of 
 newspapers he had brought from the kitchen and 
 thrown on the floor. His glance chanced to rest 
 for an instant upon the topmost paper of the pile. 
 It was a New York journal which devotes two of 
 its inside pages to happenings in society. When 
 he threw it down it had unfolded so that one of 
 these pages lay uppermost. Absently, scarcely 
 realizing that he was doing so, the substitute as 
 sistant read as follows : 
 
 "Engagement in High Life Announced. Another 
 American Girl to Wed a Nobleman. Miss Ann Gard 
 ner Davidson to become the Baroness Hardacre." 
 
 With a shout he fell upon his knees, seized the 
 paper and read on: 
 
 "Another contemplated matrimonial alliance be 
 tween one of New York s fairest daughters and a scion 
 of the English nobility was made public yesterday. 
 Miss Ann Gardner Davidson, of this city, the breaking 
 of whose engagement to Russell Agnew Brooks, son of 
 George Agnew Brooks, the wealthy cotton broker, was 
 the sensation of the early spring, is to marry Herbert 
 Ainsworth-Ainsworth, Baron Hardacre, of Hardacre 
 Towers, Surrey on Kent, England. It was said that 
 the young lady broke off her former engagement with 
 young Brooks because of 
 
 318
 
 THE EBB TIDE 
 
 The prisoner in the boathouse read no further. 
 Ruth Graham had said to him the day before 
 that, in her opinion, he had treated Ann David 
 son unfairly. He should have gone to her and 
 told her of his quarrel with his father. Although 
 he did not care for Ann, she might care for him. 
 Might care enough to wait and . . . Wait? 
 Why, she cared so little that, within a few 
 months, she was ready to marry another man. 
 And, if he owed her any debt of honor, no matter 
 how farfetched and fantastic, it was canceled 
 now. He was absolutely free. And he had been 
 right all the time. He could prove it. He would 
 show Ruth Graham that paper and . . . 
 
 His jaw set tight, and he rose from the heap of 
 fish nets with the folded paper clinched like a club 
 in his hand. He was going to get out of that 
 boathouse if he had to butt a hole through its 
 boards with his head. 
 
 Once more he climbed to the window and made 
 an attempt to squeeze through. It was futile, of 
 course, but this time it seemed to him that the 
 sill and the plank to which it was attached gave a 
 little. He put the paper between his teeth, seized 
 the sill with both hands, braced his feet against 
 a beam below, and jerked with all his strength. 
 
 319
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 Once twice three times! It was giving! It 
 was pulling loose! He landed on his back upon 
 the nets, sill and a foot of boarding in his hands. 
 In exactly five seconds, the folded newspaper 
 jammed in his trousers pocket, he swung through 
 the opening and dropped to the narrow space be 
 tween the building and the end of the wharf. 
 
 The space was a bare six inches wide. As he 
 struck, his ankle turned under him, he staggered, 
 tried wildly to regain his balance, and fell. As 
 he fell he caught a glimpse of a blue-clad figure 
 at the top of the bluff before the bungalow. Then 
 he went under with a splash, and the eager tide 
 had him in its grasp. 
 
 When he came to the surface and shook the 
 water from his eyes, he was already some distance 
 from the wharf. This, an indication of the force 
 of the tide, should have caused him to realize 
 his danger instantly. But it did not. His mind 
 was intent upon the accomplishment of one thing, 
 namely, the proving to Ruth Graham, by means 
 of the item in the paper, that he was no longer 
 under any possible obligation to the Davidson 
 girl. Therefore, his sole feeling, as he came sput 
 tering to the top of the water, was disgust at his 
 own clumsiness. It was when he tried to turn 
 
 320
 
 THE EBB TIDE 
 
 and swim back to the wharf that he grasped the 
 situation as it was. He could not swim against 
 that tide. 
 
 There was no time to consider what was best 
 to do. The breakers were only five hundred 
 yards off, and if he wished to live he must keep 
 out of their clutches. He began to swim diag 
 onally across the current, putting all his strength 
 into each stroke. But for every foot of progress 
 toward the calmer water he was borne a yard 
 toward the breakers. 
 
 The tide bubbled and gurgled about him. 
 Miniature whirlpools tugged at his legs, pulling 
 him under. He fought nobly, setting his teeth 
 and swearing inwardly that he would make it, 
 he would not give up, he would not drown. But 
 the edge of the tide rip was a long way off, and he 
 was growing tired already. Another whirlpool 
 sucked him down, and when he rose he shouted 
 for help. It was an instinctive, unreasoning ap 
 peal, almost sure to be useless, for who could 
 hear him? but he shouted, nevertheless. 
 
 And the shout was answered. From some 
 where behind him a long, long distance, so it 
 seemed to him came the clear call in a woman s 
 voice. 
 
 321
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " All right ! I m coming. Keep on, just as 
 you are." 
 
 He kept on, or tried to. He swam and swam 
 and swam. He went under, rose, went under 
 again, fought his way up, and kept on swimming. 
 Through the gurgle and hiss of the water, sound 
 ing dully above the humming in his ears and the 
 roar of the blood in his tired brain, came the 
 clear voice again: 
 
 "Steady now! Just as you are! one more 
 stroke ! Now one more ! Quick 1 Quick ! Now ! 
 Can you get aboard? " 
 
 The wet, red side of a dory s bow pushed past 
 his laboring shoulder. A hand clutched his shirt 
 collar. He reached up and grasped the boat s 
 gunwale, hung on with all his weight, threw one 
 leg over the edge, and tumbled into the dory s 
 bottom. 
 
 " Thanks," he panted, his eyes shut. " That 
 was about the closest call I ever had. Hey? 
 Why! Ruth!" 
 
 She was panting, also, but she was not look 
 ing at him. She was rowing with all her might, 
 and gazing fearfully over her shoulder. " Are 
 you strong enough to help me row?" she asked 
 breathlessly. " We must head her away from 
 
 322
 
 here, out of this tide. And I m afraid that I 
 can t do it alone." 
 
 He raised his head and looked over the rail. 
 The breakers were alarmingly close. He scram 
 bled to the thwart, pushed her aside and seized 
 the oars. She resisted. 
 
 " Only one," she gasped. " I can manage the 
 other." 
 
 So, each with an oar, they fought the tide, 
 and won but by the narrowest of margins. 
 The dory edged into stiller and shoaler water, 
 crept out of the eddying channel over the flat 
 where the depth was but a scant four feet, turned 
 almost by inches, and, at last, slid up on the 
 sandy beach below the bungalow. The girl sat 
 bowed over the handle of her oar, her breast 
 heaving. She said nothing. Her companion like 
 wise said nothing. Staggering, he stepped over 
 the side, walked a few feet up the beach, and 
 then tumbled in an unconscious heap on the 
 sand. 
 
 He was not unconscious long, being a healthy 
 and robust young fellow. His first thought, upon 
 opening his eyes, was that he must close them 
 again as quickly as possible because he wanted 
 the dream to continue. To lie with one s head 
 
 323
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 in the lap of an angel, while that angel strokes 
 your forehead and cries over you and begs you 
 for her sake not to die, is too precious a delusion 
 to lose. But the opening of one s eyes is a mis 
 take under such circumstances, and he had made 
 it. The angel s next remark was entirely unro- 
 mantic and practical. 
 
 " Are you better?" she asked. "You re all 
 right now, aren t you? " 
 
 Her patient s reply was also a question, and 
 irrelevant. 
 
 " Do you care? " he asked faintly. 
 
 " Are you better? " she asked in return. 
 
 " Did you get my note? The note I put under 
 the door?" 
 
 "Answer me. Are you all right again? 
 
 " You answer me. Did you get my note? " 
 
 " Yes. . . . Don t try to get up. You re not 
 strong enough yet. You must wait here while I 
 go and get you some 
 
 " Don t go! " He almost shouted it. " If- 
 if you do I ll I ll I think I m going to faint 
 "again." 
 
 " Oh, no, you re not. And I must go and get 
 you some brandy or something. Stay just where 
 you are." 
 
 3 2 4
 
 THE EBB TIDE 
 
 " Ruth Graham, if you go away now, I ll go 
 with you, if I have to crawl. Maybe I can t walk, 
 but I swear I ll crawl after you on my hands and 
 knees unless you answer my question. Do you 
 care enough for me to wait? " 
 
 She looked out at the little bay, at the narrow, 
 wicked tide race, at the breakers beyond. Then 
 she looked down again at him. 
 
 Yes," she said. ..." Oh, are you going 
 to faint again? Don t! Please don t! " 
 
 Russell Agnew Brooks, the late " John 
 Brown," opened his eyes. " I am not going to 
 faint," he observed. " I was merely trying to 
 realize that I was fully conscious." 
 
 Some time after this hours and minutes do 
 not count in paradise he remembered the item 
 in the paper. 
 
 " By George ! " he exclaimed, " I had some 
 thing to show you. I m afraid I ve lost it. Oh, 
 no! here it is." 
 
 He extracted from his trousers pocket the wa 
 ter soaked lump that had been the New York 
 newspaper. The page containing the sensational 
 announcement of the engagement in high life was 
 quite undecipherable. Being on the outside of 
 22 325
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 the folded paper, it had rubbed to a pulpy blur. 
 However, he told her about it, and she agreed 
 that his judgment of the character of the future 
 Baroness Hardacre had been absolutely correct. 
 You were very wise," she said sagely. 
 Not so wise as I ve become since," he 
 asserted with decision. Then he added, with a 
 rather rueful smile, " I m afraid, dear, people 
 won t say as much for you, when they know." 
 
 " I m satisfied." 
 
 " You may have to wait all those years and 
 years you spoke of." 
 
 " I will." 
 
 But she did not have to. For, at that moment, 
 the miracle of wisdom beside her sat up and 
 pointed to the wet newspaper lying on the sand 
 at her feet. 
 
 " Has my happiness affected my wits? " he de 
 manded. " Or does salt water bring on delu 
 sions? Aren t those my initials? " 
 
 He was pointing to a paragraph in the " Per 
 sonals " column of the New York paper. This, 
 being on one of the inner pages, had remained 
 comparatively dry and could be read. The 
 particular " Personal " to which he pointed was 
 this: 
 
 326
 
 THE EBB TIDE 
 
 "R. A. B." Wherever you are. This is to certify 
 that I hereby acknowledge that you have been abso 
 lutely correct in the A. D. matter; witness news else 
 where. I was a fool, and I apologize publicly. Inci 
 dentally I need a head like yours in my business. Come 
 back. Partnership awaiting you. Come back; and 
 marry anybody or nobody as you see fit. 
 
 "FATHER."
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 BUT what," asked Ruth, as they entered 
 the bungalow together, " has happened to 
 Mr. Atkins, do you think? You say he 
 went away yesterday noon and you haven t 
 seen him or even heard from him since. I should 
 think he would be afraid to leave the lights for 
 so long a time. Has he ever done it before?" 
 
 " No. And I m certain he would not have 
 done it this time of his own accord. If he could 
 have gotten back last night he would, storm or 
 no storm." 
 
 " But last night was pretty bad. And," quite 
 seriously, " of course he knew that you were here, 
 and so everything would be all right." 
 
 " Oh, certainly," with sarcasm, " he would 
 know that, of course. So long as I am on deck, 
 why come back at all? I m afraid Atkins doesn t 
 share your fa-ith in my transcendent ability, 
 dear." 
 
 328
 
 WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 " Well," Miss Graham tossed her head, " I 
 imagine he knew he could trust you to attend to 
 his old lighthouses." 
 
 " Perhaps. If so, his faith has developed won 
 derfully. He never has trusted me even to light 
 the lanterns. No, I m afraid something has hap 
 pened some accident. If the telephone was in 
 working order I could soon find out. As it is, I 
 can only wait and try not to worry. By the way, 
 is your housekeeper Mrs. What s-her-name all 
 serene after her wet afternoon? When did she 
 return? " 
 
 " She hasn t returned. I expected her last 
 evening she said she would be back before 
 dark but she didn t come. That didn t trouble 
 me; the storm was so severe that I suppose she 
 stayed in the village overnight." 
 
 " So you were alone all through the gale. I 
 wondered if you were; I was tremendously anx 
 ious about you. And you weren t afraid? Did 
 you sleep? " 
 
 " Not much. You see," she smiled oddly, " I 
 received a letter before I retired, and it was such 
 an important and surprising communication 
 that I couldn t go to sleep at once." 
 
 U A letter? A letter last night? Wh( 
 
 3 2 9
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 What? You don t mean my letter? The one I 
 put under your door? You didn t get that last 
 night ! " 
 
 " Oh, yes, I did." 
 
 " But how? The bungalow was as dark as a 
 tomb. There wasn t a light anywhere. I made 
 sure of that before I came over." 
 
 " I know. I put the light out, but I was sitting 
 by the window in the dark, looking out at the 
 storm. Then I saw some one coming up the hill, 
 and it was you." 
 
 Then you saw me push it under the door? " 
 Yes. What made you stay on the step so 
 long after you had pushed it under? " 
 
 44 Me? . . . Oh," hastily, " I wanted to make 
 sure it was er under. And you found it and 
 read it then?" 
 
 " Of course. I couldn t imagine what it could 
 be, and I was curious, naturally." 
 
 "Ruth!" 
 
 " I was." 
 
 Nonsense ! You knew what it must be. 
 Surely you did. Now, truly, didn t you? Didn t 
 you, dear? " 
 
 Why should I? ... Oh, your sleeve is wet. 
 You re soaking wet from head to foot." 
 
 330
 
 WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 Well, I presume that was to be expected. 
 This water out here is remarkably damp, you 
 know, and I was in it for some time. I should 
 have been in it yet if it hadn t been for you." 
 
 " Don t ! " with a shudder, " don t speak of it. 
 When I saw you fall into that tide I ... But 
 there! you mustn t stay here another moment. 
 Go home and put on dry things. Go at once 1 " 
 
 " Dry things be hanged! I m going to stay 
 ^ht here and look at you." 
 
 You re not. Besides, I am wet, too. And I 
 haven t had my breakfast." 
 
 " Haven t you? Neither have I." He forgot 
 that he had attempted to have one. " But I don t 
 care," he added recklessly. Then, with a flash 
 of inspiration, " Why can t we breakfast to 
 gether? Invite me, please." 
 
 " No, I shall not. At least, not until you go 
 back and change your clothes." 
 
 To hear is to obey. I go, but I return, as 
 the fellow in the play observes. I ll be back in 
 just fifteen minutes." 
 
 He was back in twelve, and, as to make the 
 long detour about the marshes would, he felt 
 then, be a wicked waste of time and the marshes 
 themselves were covered with puddles left by the 
 
 331
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 tide, his " dry things " were far from dry when 
 he arrived. But she did not notice, and he was 
 too happy to care, so it was all right. They got 
 breakfast together, and if the coffee had boiled 
 too long and the eggs not long enough, that was 
 all right, also. 
 
 They sat at opposite sides of the little table, 
 and he needed frequent reminding that eating was 
 supposed to be the business on hand. They talked 
 of his father and of Ann Davidson whom Ruth 
 declared was to be pitied of the wonderful co 
 incidence that that particular paper, the one con 
 taining the " Personal " and the " Engagement 
 in High Life " item, should have been on top of 
 the pile in the boathouse, and of other things. 
 Occasionally the talk lapsed, and the substitute as 
 sistant merely looked, looked and smiled vacu 
 ously. When this happened Miss Graham smiled, 
 also, and blushed. Neither of them thought of 
 looking out of the window. 
 
 If they had not been so preoccupied, if they 
 had looked out of that window, they would have 
 seen a horse and buggy approaching over the 
 dunes. Seth and Mrs. Bascom were on the buggy 
 seat, and the lightkeeper was driving with one 
 hand. The equipage had been hired at the East- 
 
 332
 
 WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 boro livery stable. Joshua was undergoing re 
 pairs and enjoying a much-needed rest at the 
 blacksmith shop in the village. 
 
 As they drew near the lights, Seth sighed con 
 tentedly. 
 
 Well, Emeline," he observed, " here we be, 
 safe and sound. Home again! Yes, sir, by jim- 
 iny crimps, home! And you ain t goin to Boston 
 to-day, neither." 
 
 Mrs. Bascom, the practical, moved toward the 
 edge of the seat. 
 
 Take your arm away, Seth," she cautioned. 
 " They ll see you." 
 
 " Who ll see me? What do I care who sees 
 me? Ain t a man got a right to put his arm 
 around his own wife, I d like to know?" 
 
 " Humph! Well, all right. I can stand it if 
 you can. Only I cal late your young Brown man 
 is in for somethin of a shock, that s all. He 
 don t know that I m your wife." 
 
 Seth removed his arm. His expression 
 changed. 
 
 " That s so," he admitted. " He will be set 
 back three or four rows, won t he? " 
 
 " I shouldn t wonder. He ll think your 
 woman-hate has had a relapse, I guess." 
 
 333
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 The lightkeeper looked trouble; then he 
 nodded grimly. 
 
 " His ain t what you d call a desp rate case," 
 he declared. " Judgin by what I ve seen in the 
 cove for the last month, he s gettin better of it 
 fast. I ain t no worse than he is, by time! . . . 
 Wonder where he is! This place looks deader n 
 the doleful tombs." 
 
 He hitched the horse to the back fence and 
 assisted his wife to alight from the buggy. They 
 entered the kitchen. No one was there, and Seth s 
 hurried search of the other rooms resulted in find 
 ing them untenanted likewise. 
 
 " Maybe he s out in one of the lights," he said. 
 Wait here, Emeline, and I ll go see." 
 
 But she would not wait. " I m goin right over 
 to the bungalow," she said. " I m worried about 
 Miss Ruth. She was alone all last night, and I 
 sha n t rest easy till I know nothin s happened 
 to her. You can come when you find your 
 young man. You and me have got some- 
 thin to tell em, and we might as well get 
 the tellin done as soon as possible. Nothin s 
 ever gained by putting off a mean job. 
 Unless, of course," she added, looking at him 
 out of the corners of her eyes, " you want 
 
 334
 
 WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 to back out, Seth. It ain t too late even now, 
 you know." 
 
 He stared at her. " Back out! " he repeated; 
 " back out! Emeline Bascom, what are you talk- 
 in about? You go to that bungalow and go in a 
 hurry. Don t stop to talk! go! Who s runnin 
 this craft? Who s the man in this family you 
 or me? " 
 
 She laughed. You seem to be, Seth," she 
 answered, " just now." 
 
 !l I am. I ve been a consider ble spell learnin 
 how to be, but I ve learned. You trot right 
 along." 
 
 Brown was in neither of the light towers, and 
 Seth began to be worried about him. He de 
 scended to the yard and stood there, wondering 
 what on earth could have happened. Then, 
 looking across the cove, he became aware that 
 his wife was standing on the edge of the bluff, 
 making signals with both hands. 
 
 He opened his mouth to shout a question, but 
 she frantically signaled for silence. Then she 
 beckoned. He ran down the path at full speed. 
 She met him at the other side of the cove. 
 
 " Come here ! " she whispered. " Don t say 
 a word, but just come and look." 
 
 335
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 He followed her, crept close to the bungalow 
 window and peeped in. His helper, " John 
 Brown," and Miss Ruth Graham were seated at 
 the table. Also the substitute assistant was lean 
 ing across that table with the young lady s hand 
 in his; the pair were entirely oblivious of any 
 thing in the world except each other. 
 
 A few moments later a thunderous knock 
 shoolv the bungalow door. The knock was not 
 answered immediately; therefore, Seth opened the 
 door himself. Miss Graham and the lightkeep- 
 er s helper were standing some distance apart; 
 they gazed speechlessly at the couple who now 
 entered the room. 
 
 Well," observed Seth, with sarcasm, " any 
 body got anything to say? You," turning to the 
 young man, " seems to me you ought to say 
 somethin . Considerin a little agreement you 
 and me had, I should imagine I was entitled to 
 some triflin explanation. What are you doin 
 over here with her? Brown " 
 
 The young gentleman came to himself with 
 a start. He walked across to where Miss 
 Graham was standing, and once more took her 
 hand. 
 
 " My name is not Brown," he said firmly. " It 
 336
 
 WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 is Brooks; and this is the young lady I am to 
 marry." 
 
 He naturally expected his superior to be sur 
 prised. As a matter of fact, he was the surprised 
 party. Seth reached out, drew the bungalow 
 housekeeper toward him, and put his arm about 
 her waist. Then he smiled; and the smile was 
 expressive of pride, triumph, and satisfaction ab 
 solute. 
 
 " Atkins! " gasped Brooks. 
 
 " My name ain t Atkins," was the astonishing 
 reply; " it s Bascom. And this," indicating by a 
 tightening of his arm the blushing person at his 
 side, " is the lady / married over five year ago." 
 
 After the stories had been told, after both 
 sides had told theirs and explained and been ex 
 claimed over and congratulated, after the very 
 last question had been asked and answered, 
 Brown or Brooks asked one more. 
 
 " But this other fellow," he queried, " this 
 brother-in-law By George, it is perfectly mar 
 velous, this whole business! where is he? What 
 has become of him? " 
 
 Seth chuckled. " Bennie D. ? " he said. 
 Well, Bennie D. is leavin Eastboro on the 
 
 337
 
 THE WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 noon train. I paid his fare and give him fifty 
 dollars to boot. He s goin somewhere, but he 
 ain t sartin where. If you asked me, I should 
 say that, in the end, he d most likely have to go 
 where he s never been afore, so far s I ever heard 
 that s to work. Now seein as the important 
 business has been talked over and settled maybe 
 you ll tell me about the lights, and how you got 
 along last night." 
 
 But the lighthouse subject was destined to be 
 postponed for a few minutes. The person in 
 whose care the Lights had been left during the past 
 twenty hours or so looked at the speaker, then 
 at the other persons present, and suddenly began 
 to laugh. 
 
 What are you laughing at?" asked Miss 
 Graham. "Why, Russell, what is it?" 
 
 Russell Agnew Brooks, alias " John Brown," 
 ex-substitute assistant at Eastboro Twin-Lights, 
 sank into a chair, shaking from head to heel. 
 
 " It is hysterics," cried Ruth, hastening to his 
 side. " No wonder, poor dear, considering what 
 he has been through. Hush, Russell! don t, you 
 frighten me. What is it?" 
 
 Her fiance waved a reassuring hand. " It 
 it s all right," he gasped. " I was just laughing 
 
 338
 
 WOMAN-HATERS 
 
 at ... Oh," pointing an unsteady finger at the 
 lightkeeper, " ask him; he knows." 
 
 " Ask him?" repeated the bewildered young 
 lady. " Why, Mr. Atkins Bascom, I mean 
 what. . . ." 
 
 And then Seth began to laugh. Leaning 
 against the doorpost, he at first chuckled and 
 then roared. 
 
 " Seth ! " cried his wife. " Seth, you old idiot ! 
 Why, I never see two such loons in my life ! 
 Seth, answer me ! What are you two laughin 
 at?" 
 
 Seth Atkins Bascom wiped the tears from his 
 eyes. " I cal late," he panted, " I rather guess 
 Ho, ho! I rather guess we re both laughin at 
 woman-haters." 
 
 THE END
 
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