“Babbie,” said Jed, “let me see that boat of yours a minute, will you?”

Babbie obediently handed it over.  Jed inspected it through his spectacles.  Then he pulled the paper sail from the sharpened stick—­the mast—­unfolded it, looked at it, and then extended it at arm’s length toward Major Grover.

“That’s your plan thing, ain’t it?” he asked, calmly.

Both officers reached for the paper, but the younger, remembering in time, drew back.  The other took it, gave it a quick glance, and then turned again to Mr. Winslow.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, crisply.

Jed shook his head.

“She gave it to me, this little girl here,” he explained.  She wanted a sail for that shingle craft I whittled out for her.  Course if I’d had on my specs I presume likely I’d have noticed that ‘twas an out of the common sort of paper, but—­I was wearin’ ’em in my pants pocket just then.”

“Where did you get it?” demanded Rayburn, addressing Barbara.  The child looked frightened.  Major Grover smiled reassuringly at her and she stammered a rather faint reply.

“I found it blowing around up on the little hill there,” she said, pointing.  “It was blowing real hard and I had to run to catch it before it got to the edge of the water.  I’m—­I—­I’m sorry I gave it to Uncle Jed for a sail.  I didn’t know—­and—­and he didn’t either,” she added, loyally.

“That’s all right, my dear.  Of course you didn’t know.  Well, Rayburn,” turning to the lieutenant, “there’s your plan.  You see it did blow away, after all.  I think you owe this young lady thanks that it is not out in mid-channel by this time.  Take it back to the office and see if the holes in it have spoiled its usefulness to any extent.”

The lieutenant, very red in the face, departed, bearing his precious plan.  Jed heaved a sigh of relief.

“There!” he exclaimed, “now I presume likely I can attend to my chowder.”

“The important things of life, eh?” queried Major Grover.

“Um-hm.  I don’t know’s there’s anything much more important than eatin’.  It’s a kind of expensive habit, but an awful hard one to swear off of. . . .  Hum. . . .  Speakin’ of important things, was that plan of yours very important, Mr.—­I mean Major?”

“Rather—­yes.”

“Sho! . . .  And I stuck it on a stick and set it afloat on a shingle.  I cal’late if Sam Hunniwell knew of that he’d say ’twas characteristic. . . .  Hum. . . .  Sho! . . .  I read once about a feller that found where the great seal of England was hid and he used it to crack nuts with.  I guess likely that feller must have been my great, great, great granddad.”

Major Grover looked surprised.

“I’ve read that story,” he said, “but I can’t remember where.”

Jed was stirring his chowder.  “Eh?” he said, absently.  “Where?  Oh, ‘twas in—­the—­er—­’Prince and the Pauper,’ you know.  Mark Twain wrote it.”