Zacheus regarded the owner of the name.

“No offense meant and none given, Mr. Bangs,” he observed.  “Eh?  That’s right, ain’t it?”

“Certainly, certainly, Mr. Bloomer.  I’m not in the least offended.”

“Um-hm.  Didn’t cal’late you would be.  Can’t help our names, can we?  If my folks had asked me aforehand I’d a-been named plain John.  As ’tis, my name’s like my legs, growed that way and it’s too late to change.”

Galusha smiled.

“You’re a philosopher, I see, Mr. Bloomer,” he said.

“He’s assistant keeper over to the lighthouse,” explained Primmie.  As before, Zach paid no heed.

“I don’t know as I’d go so far as to call myself that,” he said.  “When I went to school the teacher told us one time about an old critter who lived in a—­in a tub, seem’s if ’twas.  He was one of them philosophers, wan’t he?”

“Yes.  Diogenes.”

“That’s the cuss.  Well, I ain’t never lived in a tub, but I’ve spent consider’ble time on one; I was aboard a lightship for five or six year.  Ever lived aboard a lightship, Mr. Bangs?”

“No.”

“Humph! . . .  Don’t feel disapp’inted on that account, do you?”

“Why—­ah—­no, I don’t know that I do.”

“Ain’t no occasion.  ‘Bout the same as bein’ in jail, ’tis—­only a jail don’t keep heavin’ up and down.  First week or so you talk.  By the second week the talk’s all run out of you, like molasses out of a hogshead.  Then you set and think.”

“I see.  And so much thinking tends to bring out—­ah—­philosophy, I suppose.”

“Huh!  Maybe so.  So much settin’ wears out overalls, I know that.”

Primmie interrupted.

“I’ve got it!” she cried, enthusiastically. “I know now!”

Galusha started nervously.  Primmie’s explosiveness was disturbing.  It did not disturb Mr. Bloomer, however.

“Posy here’d be a good hand aboard a lightship,” he observed.  “Her talk’d never run out.”

Primmie sniffed disgust.  “I wish you wouldn’t keep callin’ me ‘Posy’ and such names, Zach Bloomer,” she snapped.  “Yesterday he called me ‘Old Bouquet,’ Mr. Bangs.  My name’s Primrose and he knows it.”

The phlegmatic Zacheus, whose left leg had been crossed above his right, now reversed the crossing.

“A-ll right—­er Pansy Blossom,” he drawled.  “What is it you’re trying to tell us you know?  Heave it overboard.”

“Hey? . . .  Oh, I mean I’ve remembered what ’twas I wanted to ask you, Mr. Bangs.  Me and Zach was talkin’ about Miss Martha.  I said it seemed to me she had somethin’ on her mind, was sort of worried and troubled about somethin’, and Zach—­”

For the first time the assistant light keeper seemed a trifle less composed.

“There, there, Primmie,” he began.  “I wouldn’t—­”

“Be still, Zach Bloomer.  You know you want to find out just as much as I do.  Well, Zach, he cal’lated maybe ’twas money matters, cal’lated maybe she was in debt or somethin’.”