Atkins laughed aloud.  “He didn’t say nothin’,” 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 neighbors, and those that are nighest ain’t on speakin’ 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 housekeeper.”

“Ho, ho! ain’t it!  I rather guess ’twill be Henry himself that’s surprised fust.  Aunt Olive 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 exuberant 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 removal from this vale of tears.  Neither the lightkeeper 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 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.”