“I’ll go if you want me to, sir.”

“I mean what’s your idea if you stay?  What do you expect to do for a living?”

“You will observe, sir, that I have fenced off only that portion of the dump beyond high-water mark.  That takes in about half of it—­about an acre and a half.  Well, I thought I’d keep some chickens and raise some garden truck.  This silt will grow anything.  And I have my launch, and can do some towing, maybe, or take fishing parties out.  I might supply the town with fish.  I understand you import your fish from Seattle—­and with the sea right here at your door.”

“I see.  And you have your three-quarters pay as a retired chief petty officer?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Anything in bank?  I do not ask these personal questions, Brent, out of mere idle curiosity.  This is my town, you know, and there is no poverty in it.  I’m rather proud of that, so I—­”

“I understand, sir.  That’s why I came to Port Agnew.  I saw your son yesterday, and he said I could stay.”

“Oh!  Well, that’s all right, then.  If Donald told you to stay, stay you shall.  Did he give you the Sawdust Pile?”

“Yes, sir; he did!”

“Well, I had other plans for it, Brent; but since you’re here, I’ll offer no objection.”

Nan now piped up.

“We haven’t any money in bank, Mr. Laird, but we have some saved up.”

“Indeed!  That’s encouraging.  Where do you keep it?”

“In the brown teapot in the galley.  We’ve got a hundred and ten dollars.”

“Well, my little lady, I think you might do well to take your hundred and ten dollars out of the brown teapot in the galley and deposit it in the Port Agnew bank.  Suppose that motor-cruiser should spring a leak and sink?”

Nan smiled and shook her golden head in negation.  They had beaten round Cape Flattery in that boat, and she had confidence in it.

“Would you know my boy if you should see him again, Nan?” The Laird demanded suddenly.

“Oh, yes, indeed, sir!  He’s such a nice boy.”

“I think, Nan, that if you asked him, he might help your father build this house.”

“I’ll see him this afternoon when he comes out of high school,” Nan declared.

“You might call on Andrew Daney, my general manager,” The Laird continued, turning to Caleb Brent, “and make a dicker with him for hauling our garbage-scow out to sea and dumping it.  I observe that your motor-boat is fitted with towing-bitts.  We dump twice a week.  And you may have a monopoly on fresh fish if you desire it.  We have no fishermen here, because I do not care for Greeks and Sicilians in Port Agnew.  And they’re about the only fishermen on this coast.”

“Thank you, Mr. McKaye.”

“Mind you don’t abuse your monopoly.  If you do, I’ll take it away from you.”

“You are very kind, sir.  And I can have the Sawdust Pile, sir?”

“Yes; since Donald gave it to you.  However, I wish you’d tear down that patchwork fence and replace it with a decent job the instant you can afford it.”