“Well,” he said, “if that’s it, it does him credit, anyhow.  I ain’t goin’ to be selfish in this thing, Jed.  If she’s goin’ to have a husband—­and she is, of course—­I cal’late I’d rather ’twas Charlie than anybody else I’ve ever run across.  He’s smart and he’ll climb pretty high, I cal’late.  Our little single-sticked bankin’ craft ain’t goin’ to be big enough for him to sail in very long.  I can see that already.  He’ll be navigatin’ a clipper one of these days.  Well, that’s the way I’d want it.  I’m pretty ambitious for that girl of mine and I shouldn’t be satisfied short of a top-notcher.  And he’s a good feller, Jed; a straight, clean, honest and above-board young chap.  That’s the best of it, after all, ain’t it?”

Jed’s reply was almost a groan, but his friend did not notice.  He put on his overcoat and turned to go.

“So, there you are,” he said.  “I had to talk to somebody, had to get it off my chest, and, as I just said, it seems to be easier to talk such things to you than anybody else.  Now if any of the town gas engines—­Gab Bearse or anybody else—­comes cruisin’ in here heavin’ overboard questions about how I like the notion of Maud and Charlie takin’ up with each other, you can tell ’em I’m tickled to death.  That won’t be all lie, neither.  I can’t say I’m happy, exactly, but Maud is and I’m goin’ to make-believe be, for her sake.  So long.”

He went out.  Jed put his elbows on the workbench and covered his face with his hands.  He was still in that position when Ruth Armstrong came in.  He rose hastily, but she motioned him to sit again.

“Jed,” she said, “Captain Hunniwell was just here with you; I saw him go.  Tell me, what was he talking about?”

Jed was confused.  “Why—­why, Mrs. Ruth,” he stammered, “he was just talkin’ about—­about a note he’d been collectin’, and—­and such.”

“Wasn’t he speaking of his daughter—­and—­and my brother?”

This time Jed actually gasped.  Ruth drew a long breath.  “I knew it,” she said.

“But—­but, for mercy sakes, how did you know?  Did he—?”

“No, he didn’t see me at all.  I was watching him from the window.  But I saw his face and—­” with a sudden gesture of desperation, “Oh, it wasn’t that at all, Jed.  It was my guilty conscience, I guess.  I’ve been expecting him to speak to you—­or me—­have been dreading it every day—­and now somehow I knew he had spoken.  I knew it.  What did he say, Jed?”

Jed told the substance of what Captain Sam had said.  She listened.  When he finished her eyes were wet.

“Oh, it is dreadful,” she moaned.  “I—­I was so hoping she might not care for Charlie.  But she does—­of course she does.  She couldn’t help it,” with a sudden odd little flash of loyalty.

Jed rubbed his chin in desperation.

“And—­and Charlie?” he asked, anxiously.  “Does he—­”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure he does.  He has never told me so, never in so many words, but I can see.  I know him better than any one else in the world and I can see.  I saw first, I think, on Thanksgiving Day; at least that is when I first began to suspect—­to fear.”