“Yes, he’s here.  Want to see him, do you?”

“I’ve got a telegram for him.”

Mr. Babbitt himself came forward and took the yellow envelope.  After absently turning it over several times, as so many people do when they receive an unexpected letter or message, he tore it open.

Winslow and Captain Sam, watching him, saw his face, to which the color had returned in the last few minutes, grow white again.  He staggered a little.  Jed stepped toward him.

“What is it, Phin?” he asked.  “Somebody dead or—­”

Babbitt waved him away.  “No,” he gasped, chokingly.  “No, let me be.  I’m—­I’m all right.”

Captain Sam, a little conscience-stricken, came forward.  “Are you sick, Phin?” he asked.  “Is there anything I can do?”

Phineas glowered at him.  “Yes,” he snarled between his clenched teeth, “you can mind your own darned business.”

Then, turning to the boy who had brought the message, he ordered:  “You get out of here.”

The frightened youngster scuttled away and Babbitt, the telegram rattling in his shaking hand, followed him.  The captain, hurrying to the window, saw him go down the walk and along the road in the direction of his store.  He walked like a man stricken.

Captain Sam turned back again.  “Now what in time was in that telegram?” he demanded.  Jed, standing with his back toward him and looking out of the window on the side of the shop toward the sea, did not answer.

“Do you hear me?” asked the captain.  “That telegram struck him like a shock of paralysis.  He went all to pieces.  What on earth do you suppose was in it?  Eh?  Why don’t you say somethin’?  You don’t know what was in it, do you?”

Winslow shook his head.  “No,” he answered.  “I don’t know’s I do.”

“You don’t know as you do?  Well, do you guess you do?  Jed Winslow, what have you got up your sleeve?”

The proprietor of the windmill shop slowly turned and faced him.  “I don’t know’s there’s anything there, Sam,” he answered, “but—­ but I shouldn’t be much surprised if that telegram was from Leander.”

“Leander?  Leander Babbitt?  What . . .  Eh?  What in thunder do you want?”

The last question was directed toward the window on the street side of the shop.  Mr. Gabriel Bearse was standing on the outside of that window, energetically thumping on the glass.

“Open her up!  Open her up!” commanded Gabe.  “I’ve got somethin’ to tell you.”

Captain Sam opened the window.  Gabriel’s face was aglow with excitement.  “Say!  Say!” he cried.  “Did he tell you?  Did he tell you?”

“Did who tell what?” demanded the captain.

“Did Phin Babbitt tell you what was in that telegram he just got?  What did he say when he read it?  Did he swear?  I bet he did!  If that telegram wan’t some surprise to old Babbitt, then—­”