“Good morning, Mr. Winslow,” she said, and opened the door to the outer shop.  This time Jed did not detain her.  Instead he stared dreamily at the floor, apparently quite unconscious of her or his surroundings.

“Eh?” he drawled.  “Oh, yes, good mornin’,—­good mornin’. . . .  Hum. . . .

    ’There is a fountain filled with blood
       Drawn from Emmanuel’s veins,
     And sinners plunged de de de de
       De de di dew dum de.’”

His visitor closed the door.  Jed still sat there gazing at vacancy and droning, dolefully.

CHAPTER XI

For nearly an hour he sat there, scarcely changing his position, and only varying his musical program by whistling hymns instead of singing them.  Once, hearing a step in the yard, he looked through the window and saw Gabriel Bearse walking toward the gate from the direction of the shop door instead of in the opposite direction.  Evidently he had at first intended to call and then had changed his mind.  Mr. Winslow was duly grateful to whoever or whatever had inspired the change.  He had no desire to receive a visit from “Gab” Bearse, at this time least of all.

Later on he heard another step, and, again glancing through the window, saw Seth Wingate, the vegetable and fruit peddler, walking from the door to the gate, just as Mr. Bearse had done.  Apparently Seth had changed his mind also.  Jed thought this rather odd, but again he was grateful.  He was thinking hard and was quite willing not to be disturbed.

But the disturbing came ten minutes after Mr. Wingate’s departure and came in the nature of a very distinct disturbance.  There was a series of thunderous knocks on the front door, that door was thrown violently open, and, before the startled maker of mills could do much more than rise to his feet, the door to the workroom was pulled open also.  Captain Hunniwell’s bulk filled the opening.  Captain Sam was red-faced and seemed excited.

“Well, by the gracious king,” he roared, “you’re here, anyhow!  What else is the matter with you?”

Jed, who, after recognizing his visitor, had seated himself once more, looked up and nodded.

“Hello, Sam,” he observed.  “Say, I was just thinkin’ about you.  That’s kind of funny, ain’t it?”

“Funny!  Just thinkin’ about me!  Well, I’ve been thinkin’ about you, I tell you that:  Have you been in this shop all the forenoon?”

“Eh? . . .  Why, yes. . . .  Sartin. . . .  I’ve been right here.”

“You have?  Gracious king!  Then why in the Old Harry have you got that sign nailed on your front door out here tellin’ all hands you’re out for the day and for ’em to ask for you up at Abijah Thompson’s?”

Jed looked much surprised.  His hand moved slowly across his chin.

“Sho!” he drawled.  “Sho!  Has that sign been hangin’ there all this forenoon?”