“Now,” she said, “we've got to talk. Seth Bascom—”
Seth started violently.
“What is it?” asked the lady. “Why did you jump like that? Nobody comin', is there?”
“No. No . . . But I couldn't help jumpin' when you called me that name.”
“That name? It's your name, isn't it? Oh,” she smiled slightly; “I remember now. You've taken the name of Atkins since we saw each other last.”
“I didn't take it; it belonged to me. You know my middle name. I just dropped the Bascom, that's all.”
“I see. Just as you dropped—some other responsibilities. Why didn't you drop the whole christenin' and start fresh? Why did you hang on to 'Seth'?”
The lightkeeper looked guilty. Mrs. Bascom's smile broadened. “I know,” she went on. “You didn't really like to drop it all. It was too much of a thing to do on your hook, and there wasn't anybody to tell you to do it, and so you couldn't quite be spunky enough to—”
He interrupted her. “That wa'n't the reason,” he said shortly.
“What was the reason?”