more. Her lips twitched and her eyes sparkled.

"Hum!" she said again. "They say you can tell the Old Scratch by his
footprints, even if you can't smell the sulphur. Anyhow, you can tell
a Hammond by the size of his boots. Come out from behind that door this
minute. Ain't you ashamed of yourself?"

The owner of the boot stepped forth from behind the door and seized her
by both hands.

"Halloo, Keziah!" he cried joyfully. "My, but it's good to see you."

"Halloo, Nat!" said Keziah heartily. "It's kind of good to see you,
too."

The rest of him was in keeping with his boots. He was big and
broad-shouldered and bearded. His face, above the beard, was tanned to a
deep reddish brown, and the corners of his eyes were marked with dozens
of tiny wrinkles. He was dressed in blue cloth and wore a wide-brimmed,
soft felt hat. He entered the kitchen and tossed the hat into a corner.

"Well!" he exclaimed. "Why don't you act surprised to see a feller? Here
I've been cruisin' from the Horn to Barnegat and back again, and you
act as if I'd just dropped in to fetch the cup of molasses I borrowed
yesterday. What do you mean by it?"

"Oh, I heard you'd made port."

"Did, hey? That's Trumet, sure pop. You ain't the only one. I sneaked
off acrost lots so's to dodge the gang of neighbors that I knew would