"Ye-es. They all do, pretty much. Well, how about Phineas? How does the old feller take the news? Have you heard?"
"Why, yes, I've heard. Of course I haven't talked with him. He'd no more speak to me than he would to the Evil One."
Jed's lip twitched. "Why, probably not quite so quick, Sam," he drawled. "Phin ought to be on pretty good terms with the Old Scratch. I've heard him recommend a good many folks to go to him."
"Ho, ho! Yes, that's so. Well, Jim Bailey told me that when Phin had read the telegram he never said a word. Just got up and walked into his back shop. But Jerry Burgess said that, later on, at the post-office somebody said somethin' about how Leander must be a mighty good fighter to be recommended for that cross, and Phineas was openin' his mail box and heard 'em. Jerry says old Phin turned and snapped out over his shoulder: 'Why not? He's my son, ain't he?' So there you are. Maybe that's pride, or cussedness, or both. Anyhow, it's Phin Babbitt."
As the captain was turning to go he asked his friend a question.
"Jed," he asked, "what in the world have you taken your front gate off the hinges for?"
Jed, who had been gazing dreamily out to sea for the past few minutes, started and came to life.
"Eh?" he queried. "Did—did you speak, Sam?"
"Yes, but you haven't yet. I asked you what you took your front gate off the hinges for."
"Oh, I didn't. I took the hinges off the gate."