"Why, Zeb!" exclaimed Prudence. "We haven't seen you up here for a dog's age. Won't you set?"
"Oh, no'm, no'm! I was just stopping by and thought I'd ask how are you all, Aunt Prue."
He bobbed and smiled, but kept his gaze fixed upon Sheila to the exclusion of the two old people. But Cap'n Ira was never to be overlooked.
"You're going to be mighty neighborly, now, Zeb," he said. "We shall see you often."
"Er—I don't know, Cap'n Ira," stammered Zebedee, rather taken aback.
The old man rose and hobbled toward the door with the aid of his cane, fumbling in his pocket meanwhile.
"Here, Zeb," he said, producing a dime. "You're a willin' friend, I know. I'm running low on snuff. Get me a packet, will ye? American Affection is my brand. Just slip it in your pocket and bring it along with you when you come by to-morrow."
"But—but I don't know as I shall be up this way to-morrow, Cap'n Ira. Though maybe I shall." And he glanced again at the smiling girl.
"Course you will, or next day at the latest," said the old man stoutly. "I can see plainly that you ain't going to neglect Prue and me no more. And I shall want that snuff."
"Well—er—Cap'n—"