“When a young feller who ain’t been to meetin’ for land knows how long,” observed Captain Eri, “all of a sudden begins showin’ up every Sunday reg’lar as clockwork, you can make up your mind it’s owin’ to one of two reasons—­either he’s got religion or a girl.  In this case there ain’t any revival in town, so—­”

And the captain waved his hand.

Jed was not blind and he had seen, perhaps sooner than any one else, the possibilities in the case.  And what he saw distressed him greatly.  Captain Sam Hunniwell was his life-long friend.  Maud had been his pet since her babyhood; she and he had had many confidential chats together, over troubles at school, over petty disagreements with her father, over all sorts of minor troubles and joys.  Captain Sam had mentioned to him, more than once, the probability of his daughter’s falling in love and marrying some time or other, but they both had treated the idea as vague and far off, almost as a joke.

And now it was no longer far off, the falling in love at least.  And as for its being a joke—­Jed shuddered at the thought.  He was very fond of Charlie Phillips; he had made up his mind at first to like him because he was Ruth’s brother, but now he liked him for himself.  And, had things been other than as they were, he could think of no one to whom he had rather see Maud Hunniwell married.  In fact, had Captain Hunniwell known the young man’s record, of his slip and its punishment, Jed would have been quite content to see the latter become Maud’s husband.  A term in prison, especially when, as in this case, he believed it to be an unwarranted punishment, would have counted for nothing in the unworldly mind of the windmill maker.  But Captain Sam did not know.  He was tremendously proud of his daughter; in his estimation no man would have been quite good enough for her.  What would he say when he learned?  What would Maud say when she learned? for it was almost certain that Charles had not told her.  These were some of the questions which weighed upon the simple soul of Jedidah Edgar Wilfred Winslow.

And heavier still there weighed the thought of Ruth Armstrong.  He had given her his word not to mention her brother’s secret to a soul, not even to him.  And yet, some day or other, as sure and certain as the daily flowing and ebbing of the tides, that secret would become known.  Some day Captain Sam Hunniwell would learn it; some day Maud would learn it.  Better, far better, that they learned it before marriage, or even before the public announcement of their engagement—­always provided there was to be such an engagement.  In fact, were it not for Ruth herself, no consideration for Charles’ feelings would have prevented Jed’s taking the matter up with the young man and warning him that, unless he made a clean breast to the captain and Maud, he—­Jed—­ would do it for him.  The happiness of two such friends should not be jeopardized if he could prevent it.