“That’s so; I remember now.  So you’ve read ’The Prince and the Pauper’?”

“Um-hm.  Read about everything Mark Twain ever wrote, I shouldn’t wonder.”

“Do you read a good deal?”

“Some. . . .  There!  Now we’ll call that chowder done for the second time, I guess.  Set down and pass your plate, Babbie.  You’ll set down and have a bite with us, won’t you, Mr.—­Major—­I snum I’ve forgot your name.  You mustn’t mind; I forget my own sometimes.”

“Grover.  I am a major in the Engineers, stationed here for the present to look after this construction work.  No, thank you, I should like to stay, but I must go back to my office.”

“Dear, dear!  That’s too bad.  Babbie and I would like first-rate to have you stay.  Wouldn’t we, Babbie?”

Barbara nodded.

“Yes, sir,” she said.  “And the chowder will be awf’ly good.  Uncle Jed’s chowders always are.”

“I’m sure of it.”  Major Grover’s look of surprise was more evident than ever as he gazed first at Barbara and then at Mr. Winslow.  His next question was addressed to the latter.

“So you are this young lady’s uncle?” he inquired.  It was Barbara who answered.

“Not my really uncle,” she announced.  “He’s just my make-believe uncle.  He says he’s my step-uncle ’cause he comes to our back steps so much.  But he’s almost better than a real uncle,” she declared, emphatically.

The major laughed heartily and said he was sure of it.  He seemed to find the pair hugely entertaining.

“Well, good-by,” he said.  “I hope you and your uncle will visit us again soon.  And I hope next time no one will take him for a spy.”

Jed looked mournfully at the fire.  “I’ve been took for a fool often enough,” he observed, “but a spy is a consider’ble worse guess.”

Grover looked at him.  “I’m not so sure,” he said.  “I imagine both guesses would be equally bad.  Well, good-by.  Don’t forget to come again.”

“Thank you, thank you.  And when you’re over to Orham drop in some day and see Babbie and me.  Anybody—­the constable or anybody—­will tell you where I live.”

Their visitor laughed, thanked him, and hurried away.  Said Barbara between spoonfuls: 

“He’s a real nice officer one, isn’t he, Uncle Jed?  Petunia and I like him.”

During the rest of the afternoon they walked along the beach, picked up shells, inspected “horse-foot” crabs, jelly fish and “sand collars,” and enjoyed themselves so thoroughly that it was after four when they started for home.  The early October dusk settled down as they entered the winding channel between the sand islands and the stretches of beaches.  Barbara, wrapped in an old coat of Captain Perez’s, which, smelling strongly of fish, had been found in a locker, seemed to be thinking very hard and, for a wonder, saying little.  At last she broke the silence.

“That Mr. Major officer man was ’stonished when I called you ’Uncle Jed,’” she observed.  “Why, do you s’pose?”