Benijah wiped his forehead.

“Gosh!” he exclaimed.  “By . . . gosh!”

“What are you b’goshin’ about?”

“Seth—­I don’t know what you’ll say to me—­but—­but I declare I forgot all about your horse.”

“You forgot about him?”

“Yes.  You see that thing?” pointing pathetically at the auto.  “Well, sir, that pesky thing’s breakin’ my heart—­to say nothin’ of my back.  I got it apart all right, no trouble about that.  And by good rights I’ve got it together again, leastways it looks so.  Yet, by time,” in distracted agitation, “there’s a half bucket of bolts and nuts and odds and ends that ain’t in it yet—­left over, you might say.  And I can’t find any place to put one of ’em.  Do you wonder I forget trifles?”

Trifles! the shoeing of Joshua a trifle!  The lightkeeper had been suffering for an opportunity to blow off steam, and the opportunity was here.  Benijah withered under the blast.

“S-sh-sh! sh-sh!” he pleaded.  “Land sakes, Seth Atkins, stop it!  I don’t blame you for bein’ mad, but you nor nobody else sha’n’t talk to me that way.  I’ll fix your horse in five minutes.  Yes, sir, in five minutes.  Shut up now, or I won’t do it at all!”

He rushed over to the stall in the rear of the shop, woke Joshua from the sweet slumber of old age, and led him to the halter beside the forge.  The lightkeeper, being out of breath, had nothing further to say at the moment.

“What’s the matter with all you lighthouse folks?” asked Benijah, anxious to change the subject.  “What’s possessed the whole lot of you to come to the village at one time?  Whoa, boy, stand still!”

“The whole lot of us?” repeated Seth.  “What do you mean?”

“Mean I’ve seen two of you at least this afternoon.  That Bascom woman, housekeeper at the Graham bungalow she is, went past here twice.  Fust time she was in one of Snow’s livery buggies, Snow’s boy drivin’ her.  Then, about an hour ago, she went by again, but the boy’d gone, and there was another feller pilotin’ the team—­a stranger, nobody I ever see afore.”

Seth’s red face turned pale.  “What?” he cried.  “Em—­Mrs. Bascom ridin’ with a stranger!  What sort of a stranger?”

“Oh, a feller somewheres between twenty and fifty.  Smooth-faced critter with a checked suit and a straw hat. . . .  What on earth’s the matter with you now?”

For the lightkeeper was shaking from head to foot.

“Did—­did—­which way was they goin’?  Back to the Lights or—­or where?”

“No, didn’t seem to be goin’ to the Lights at all.  They went on the other road.  Seemed to be headin’ for Denboro if they kept on as they started. . . .  Seth Atkins, have you turned loony?”

Seth did not answer.  With a leap he landed at Joshua’s head, unhooked the halter, and ran out of the shop leading the horse.  The astonished blacksmith followed as far as the door.  Seth was backing the animal into his wagon, which stood beneath the shed.  He fastened the traces with trembling fingers.