he came along an’ toss it away into the corner.  When George had weighed out the eleven, I says to Philp, ’Well, now, I hope you’re satisfied this time?’ says I. He turns about, sees that all the sacks have gone, an’ says he, ‘That’s the end, is it?’ ‘You’re a treat, an’ no mistake,’ says I jokin’.  ’We don’t sell by the baker’s dozen at this store:’  for I could see he hadn’ counted.  ‘Well,’ says he, ’I must say there’s no cause o’ complaint this time,’ and off drives Bill wi’ the load.  ‘No cause o’ complaint’!” Mr Rogers chuckled till the tears gathered in his eyes.  He controlled his mirth and resumed, “I believe, though, the poor fool suspected something; for he was back at home before Bill had time to deliver more’n four sacks.  But Bill, you see, always carries an empty sack or two to sit upon; so there was no countin’ to be done at that end, d’ye see?”

“I see,” said Cai gravely.  It crossed his mind that he had been over-hasty in rebuking Mrs Bowldler.

“I wonder,” put in the child Fancy, “how you can sit there an’ tell such a story!  That’s just the sort o’ thing people get put in hell for, as I’ve warned you again and again.  It fairly gives me the creeps to hear you boastin’ about it.”

“Nothin’ o’ the sort,” said her master cheerfully.  He could not resent her free speaking, for she was necessary to him.  Besides, it amused him.  “You leave old Satan and Johnny Rogers to settle scores between themselves.  If he takes me as he finds me I’ll do the same by him—­an’ he knows I’ll count the sacks.  Cap’n Cai here’ll tell you I’d never have put such a trick on Philp if he hadn’ shown himself so suspicious.  I hate a suspicious man. . . .  An’ that’s one reason, Cap’n, why I want you to decide on takin’ my place on the School Board.  You see, I can choose my own time for resignin’; the Board itself fills up any vacancy that occurs between Elections:  an’ I can work the Board for you before Philp or any one else gets wind of it.  That is, if I have your consent?”

“It’s uncommonly good of you,” said Cai.  “I’ll think it over, an’ take advice, maybe.”

“You know what advice your friend’ll give you, anyway.  For, I don’t mind tellin’ you, when he talked about your enterin’ public life I dropped a hint to him.”

“‘Bias Hunken isn’ the only friend I have in the world,” answered Cai, with a sudden flush.

“I hope not,” said Mr Rogers.  “There’s me, f’r instance:  an’ you’ve heard my opinion.  That ought to be good enough for him—­eh, child?” he turned to Fancy, who had been watching Cai’s face with interest.

“If the Captain wants feminine advice,” said Fancy, in a mocking grown-up tone, “we all love public men.  It’s our well-known weakness.”

Cai wished them good-day, and took his leave in some confusion.

That mischievous child had divined his intent, almost as soon as he himself had divined it.  Nay, now—­or, to be accurate, three minutes later—­it is odds that she knew it more surely than he:  for he walked towards the Railway Station—­that is, in the direction of Rilla Farm—­ telling himself at first that a stroll was, anyhow, a good recipe for clearing the brain; that Rogers’s offer called on him to make, at short notice, an important decision.