"Thanks."
"Of course—" Mr. Phillips drew a geometrical figure with the cane in the earth of the flower bed by the path—"of course," he said, "speaking as one who has had some sad experience with illness and that sort of thing, it has always seemed to me that one should not take chances with one's health. If the cares of a particular avocation—situation—position—whatever it may be—if the cares and—ah—disappointments incidental to it are affecting one's physical condition it has always seemed to me wiser to sacrifice the first for the second. And make the sacrifice in time. You see what I mean?"
Kendrick, standing by the post of the gateway, looked at him.
"Why, no," he said, slowly, "I don't know that I do. What do you mean?"
The cane was drawn through the first figure in the flower bed and began to trace another. Again Mr. Phillips smiled.
"Why, nothing in particular, my dear sir," he replied. "Perhaps nothing at all.... I had heard—mere rumor, no doubt—that you contemplated giving up your position as superintendent here. I trust it is not true?"
"It isn't."
"I am delighted to hear you say so. We—we of the Harbor—should miss you greatly."
"Thanks. Do you mind telling me who told you I was goin' to give up the superintendent's position?"
"Why, I don't remember. It came to my ears, it seemed to be a sort of general impression. Of course, now that you tell me it is not true I shall take pains to deny it. And permit me to express my gratification."