“Certainly.  You are not to repeat or circulate anything derogatory to the character of either Mrs. Armstrong or Mr. Phillips.  In any way derogatory.”

Phineas tossed both fists in the air.

“You can’t order me around that way,” he yelled.  “Besides, if you knew what I know about that gang you’d—­”

“Hush!  I don’t want to know anything you know—­or pretend to know.  As for ordering you about—­well, we’ll see.”

“I tell you you can’t.  You ain’t got the right.”

“Perhaps not.  But I have the right to use my discretion—­my judgment in your case.  And my judgment is that if I hear one scandalous story about town reflecting upon the character of Mrs. Armstrong or her brother—­yes, or her friends—­I shall know who is responsible and I shall have you arrested and held for trial as an enemy of the country.  You condemned the United States to the devil only a moment ago in my hearing.  Do you think that would help you in court, Babbitt?  I don’t.”

The little man’s face was a sight.  As Jed said afterward, he looked as if he would have enjoyed biting his way out of the shop.

“Huh!” he snarled; “I see.  You’re all in together, the whole lot of you.  And you, you brass buttons, you’re usin’ your soldierin’ job to keep your friends out of trouble. . . .  Huh!  Yes, that’s what you’re doin’.”

The Major’s smile was provokingly cool.

“Perhaps I am,” he admitted.  “But I shouldn’t advise you to forget what I have just told you, Babbitt.  I mean every word of it.”

It was Ruth who spoke next.  She uttered a startled exclamation.

“There’s some one coming up the walk,” she cried.  “Listen.”

Sure enough, heavy footsteps sounded upon the walk leading from the front gate to the shop.  Jed ran to the window.

“It’s Sam,” he exclaimed.  “Good heavens above!  It’s Sam Hunniwell, of all folks—­now!”

Grover looked from one face to the other.

“Is there any particular reason why Captain Hunniwell shouldn’t come?” he asked.

Jed and Ruth were silent.  Phineas chuckled malevolently.  Jed heard the chuckle and spoke.

“‘Twas—­’twas Cap’n Sam he was goin’ to tell,” he whispered, pointing at Babbitt.  Ruth caught her breath with a frightened gasp.

Grover nodded.  “Oh, I see,” he said.  “Well, I don’t think he will.  He’ll be more—­more—­careful, I’m sure.  Babbitt, remember.”

They heard the captain rattle the latch of the front door.  Ruth opened the door behind her.  “I must go, Jed,” she whispered.  “I—­I can’t stay.”

The Major turned.  “I’ll go with you, Mrs. Armstrong,” he said.  But Jed leaned forward.

“I—­I wish you’d stay, Major Grover,” he whispered.  “I—­I’d like to have you stay here just a minute or two.”

Grover hesitated.  Ruth went out, closing the living-room door after her.  A moment later Captain Sam came into the workshop.