The young man knocked the ashes from his pipe.  Rising, he laid a hand on his companion’s shoulder.

“Because you’ve got an assistant right here on the premises,” he said.  “Delivered by the Atlantic 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 A1, 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 holding 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 assistant 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!  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?”

“’Cause, as I hinted to you a spell ago, I ain’t altogether a dum fool.  I can put two and two together 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!  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 ignoble 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 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.”