Cap’n Sproul’s eyes had been widening, and his tongue was nervously licking wisps of whisker between his lips.

“Was that in a Bost’n horsepittle?” he asked, with eager interest.

“That’s where.  In the fall three years ago.  Pneumony.”

“Mine was rheumatic fever two years ago,” said the Cap’n.  “It’s what drove me off’m deep water.  She was fat, wasn’t she, and had light hair and freckles across the bridge of her nose, and used to set side of the bed and hum:  ’I’m a pilgrim, faint and weary’?”

“Damme if you didn’t ring the bell with that shot!” cried the old showman in astonishment.

“Well, it’s just ditto and the same with me,” said the Cap’n, rapping his knuckles on his breast.  “Same horsepittle, same nuss, same thing generally—­only when I was sickest I told her I had property wuth about thutty thousand dollars.”

“So did I,” announced Hiram.  “It’s funny that when a man’s drunk or sick he’s got to tell first comers all he knows, and a good deal more!” He ran his eyes up and down over Cap’n Sproul with fresh interest.  “If that don’t beat tophet!  You and me both at that horsepittle and gettin’ mixed up with the same woman!”

“This world ain’t got no special bigness,” said the Cap’n.  “I’ve sailed round it a dozen times, and I know.”

The showman grasped the selectman by the coat-lapel and demanded earnestly:  “Didn’t you figger it as I did, when you got so you could set up and take notice, that she wasn’t all right in her head?”

“Softer’n a jelly-fish!” declared the Cap’n, with unction.

“Then she’s got crazier, and up all of a sudden and followed us—­and don’t care which one she gets!”

“Or else got sensibler and remembered our property and come around to let blood.”

“Bound to make trouble, anyway.”

“She’s made it!” The Cap’n turned doleful gaze over his shoulder at the chimney of his house.

“Bein’ crazy she can make a lot more of it.  I tell you, Cap’n, there’s only this to do, and it ought to work with wimmen-folks as sensible as our’n are.  We’ll swap letters, and go back home and tell the whole story and set ourselves straight.  They’re bound to see the right side of it.”

“There ain’t any reckonin’ on what a woman will do,” observed the Cap’n, gloomily.  “The theory of tellin’ the truth sounds all right, and is all right, of course.  But I read somewhere, once, that a woman thrives best on truth diluted with a little careful and judicious lyin’.  And the feller seemed to know what he was talkin’ about.”

“It’s the truth for me this time,” cried Hiram, stoutly.

“Well, then, ditto and the same for me.  But if it’s comin’ on to blow, we might as well get another anchor out.  I’ll start Constable Denslow ’round town to see what he can see.  If he’s sly enough and she’s still here he prob’ly can locate her.  And if he can scare her off, so much the better.”