"'Less," he said presently, "Mis' Bassett might hev room fer ye. Jest two lone women—her an' her daughter—they'd ought to. We could shack along up thar an' see, anyhow. Ye never can tell till ye try, hey? That's what I allus say. Now lemme get a heft of thet air valise, ma'am, an' we'll be goin' along."
The Cap'n took Joan's bag as he spoke and led the way up the hilly street into the village. There were no sidewalks; the neat gateways, arched with honeysuckle, opened straight upon the dusty road. There seemed to be a great deal of honeysuckle in Quimpaug, and there were many clumps of phlox poking bright flowers between the fence-palings. Trim, straight little paths, bordered with whitewashed stones or curly conch-shells, led to the steps of vine-covered porches. At one of these paths Cap'n 'Bijah turned in, clicking the gate carefully behind him. He rapped on the house-door with his knuckles, and it was presently opened by a flurried, middle-aged woman hastily wiping her hands on her apron.
"My land, if it ain't Cap'n 'Bijah!" she cried, peering out. "What brings you up this way?"
"I got a young lady here from the city," ex-
