A
clamshell walk led from the gate to the doors. Over the door was a
sign, very neatly lettered, as follows: "J. EDGAR W. WINSLOW.
MILLS FOR SALE." In the lot next to that, where the little shop
stood, was a small, old-fashioned story-and-a-half Cape Cod house,
painted a speckless white, with vivid green blinds. The blinds
were shut now, for the house was unoccupied. House and shop and
both yards were neat and clean as a New England kitchen.
Gabriel Bearse, after a moment's reflection, opened the gate in the
picket fence and walked along the clamshell walk to the shop door.
Opening the door, he entered, a bell attached to the top of the
door jingling as he did so. The room which Mr. Bearse entered was
crowded from floor to ceiling, save for a narrow passage, with hit-
or-miss stacks of the wooden toys evidently finished and ready for
shipment. Threading his way between the heaps of sailors, mills,
vanes and boats, Gabriel came to a door evidently leading to
another room. There was a sign tacked to this door, which read,
"PRIVATE," but Mr. Bearse did not let that trouble him. He pushed
the door open.
The second room was evidently the work-shop. There were a circular
saw and a turning lathe, with the needful belts, and a small
electric motor to furnish power. Also there were piles of lumber,
shelves of paint pots and brushes, many shavings and much sawdust.
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