"He wouldn't ketch no fish in Wilton Harbor," sniffed Rebecca contemptuously. "Wouldn't you think he'd 'a' known that?"

"He warn't," observed Zenas Henry mildly, "figgerin' to. In fact, 'twarn't to Wilton Harbor he was goin'."

With a simultaneous start, both women looked up.

"No-siree. Bank cashier or not, Charlie warn't that much of a numskull. He was primed to fish in more propitious waters."

"Zenas Henry, do stop beatin' round the bush an' say what you have to say. If you're goin' to tell us where Charlie Eldridge went, out with it. If not, stop talkin' about it," burst out his wife sharply.

"Ain't I tellin' you fast as I can? Why get so het up? If you must know an' can't wait another minute, Charlie went fishin' in Crocker's Cove."

[17]

[17]

"Crocker's Cove!" cried two feminine voices.

Zenas Henry's only reply was a deliberate nod.

"Crocker's Cove?" gasped Abbie.

"Crocker's Cove?" echoed Rebecca.

"Crocker's Cove," nodded Zenas Henry.

"Mercy on us! Why—! Why, he—he must 'a' been goin'"—began Abbie.

"—to see The Widder," Rebecca interrupted, completing the sentence.

"I'd no notion he was tendin' up to her," Abbie said.

"Wal, he warn't 'xactly tendin' up to her—least-way, not today. Not what you could really call tendin' up," contradicted Zenas Henry, a twinkle in his eye. "Rather, I'd say 'twas t'other way round. Wouldn't you, Lemmy? Wouldn't you say that instead 'twas she who tended up to him?"

Sagaciously, Lemuel bowed.

The tapping of Abbie's foot precipitated the remainder of the story.

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