“‘Twas kind of funny, that young Smith feller’s turnin’ up for dinner that time,” observed Mr. Hamilton.  “Cal’late you was some surprised to see him, wan’t you?”

Mary smiled.  “Why, yes,” she said, “but I think he was more surprised to see me, Uncle Zoeth.”

Captain Shad laughed heartily.  “Shouldn’t wonder,” he admitted.  “Didn’t bring any fly paper along with him, did he?  No?  Well, that was an oversight.  Maybe he thought fly time was past and gone.  He seemed to be a real nice kind of young feller when he was down here that summer.  He’s older now; does he seem that way yet?”

“Why, yes, I think so.  I only saw him for a little while.”

Isaiah seemed to think it time for him to put in a question.

“Good lookin’ as ever, I cal’late, ain’t he?” he observed.

Mary was much amused.  “Why, I suppose he is,” she answered.  “But why in the world are you interested in his good looks, Isaiah?”

Mr. Chase did his best to assume an expression of deep cunning.  He winked at his employers.

“Oh, I ain’t interested—­not ’special,” he declared, “but I didn’t know but some folks might be.  Ho, ho!”

He roared at his own pleasantry.  Captain Shadrach, however, did not laugh.

“Some folks?” he repeated, tartly.  “What are you talkin’ about?  What folks?”

“Oh, I ain’t sayin’ what folks.  I’m just sayin’ some folks.  Ho, ho!  You know what I mean, don’t you, Mary-’Gusta?”

Before Mary could reply the Captain cut in again.

“No, she don’t know what you mean, neither,” he declared, with emphasis.  “That’s enough of that now, Isaiah.  Don’t be any bigger fool than you can help.”

The self-satisfied grin faded from Isaiah’s face and was succeeded by a look of surprised and righteous indignation.

“Wha—­what’s that?” he stammered.  “What’s that you’re callin’ me?”

“I ain’t callin’ you nothin’.  I’m givin’ you some free advice, that’s all.  Well, Mary-’Gusta, I cal’late, if you’ve had supper enough, you and me and Zoeth will go into the settin’-room, where we can all talk and I can smoke.  I can always talk better under a full head of steam.  Come on, Zoeth, Isaiah wants to be clearin’ the table.”

But Mr. Chase’s thoughts were not concerned with table clearing just then.  He stepped between Captain Shadrach and the door leading to the sitting-room.

“Cap’n Shad Gould,” he sputtered, “you—­you said somethin’ about a fool.  Who’s a fool?  That’s what I want to know—­who’s a fool?”

The Captain grunted.

“Give it up,” he observed.  “I never was any hand at riddles.  Come, come, Isaiah!  Get out of the channel and let us through.”

“You hold on, Cap’n Shad!  You answer me afore you leave this room.  Who’s a fool?  I want to know who’s a fool.”

Captain Shad grinned.

“Well, go up to the post-office and ask some of the gang there,” he suggested.  “Tell ’em you’ll give ’em three guesses.  There, there!” he added, good-naturedly, pushing the irate Mr. Chase out of the “channel.”  “Don’t block the fairway any longer.  It’s all right, Isaiah.  You and me have been shipmates too long to fight now.  You riled me up a little, that’s all.  Come on, folks.”