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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Cy Whittaker's Place, by Joseph C. Lincoln
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+Title: Cy Whittaker's Place
+
+Author: Joseph C. Lincoln
+
+Release Date: June 3, 2006 [eBook #3281]
+[Most recently updated: January 8, 2023]
+
+Language: English
+
+Produced by: Donald Lainson
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CY WHITTAKER'S PLACE ***
+
+
+
+
+CY WHITTAKER'S PLACE
+
+
+By Joseph C. Lincoln
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+CHAPTER
+
+I.--     THE PERFECT BOARDING HOUSE
+
+II.--    THE WANDERER'S RETURN
+
+III.--   “FIXIN' OVER”
+
+IV.--    BAILEY BANGS'S EXPERIMENT
+
+V.--     A FRONT DOOR CALLER
+
+VI.--    ICICLES AND DUST
+
+VII.--   CAPTAIN CY PROVES DELINQUENT
+
+VIII.--  THE “COW LADY”
+
+IX.--    POLITICS AND BIRTHDAYS
+
+X.--     A LETTER AND A VISITOR
+
+XI.--    A BARGAIN OFF
+
+XII.--   “TOWN MEETIN'”
+
+XIII.--  THE REPULSE
+
+XIV.--   A CLEW
+
+XV.--    DEBBY BEASLEY TO THE RESCUE
+
+XVI.--   A REMARKABLE DRIVE AND WHAT FOLLOWED
+
+XVII.--  THE CAPTAIN REMEMBERS HIS AGE
+
+XVIII.-- CONGRESSMAN EVERDEAN
+
+XIX.--   THE TOPPLING OF A MONUMENT
+
+XX.--    DIVIDED HONORS
+
+XXI.--   CAPTAIN CY'S “PICTURE”
+
+
+
+
+CY WHITTAKER'S PLACE
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE PERFECT BOARDING HOUSE
+
+
+It is queer, but Captain Cy himself doesn't remember whether the day was
+Tuesday or Wednesday. Asaph Tidditt's records ought to settle it, for
+there was a meeting of the board of selectmen that day, and Asaph has
+been town clerk in Bayport since the summer before the Baptist meeting
+house burned. But on the record the date, in Asaph's handwriting, stands
+“Tuesday, May 10, 189-” and, as it happens, May 10 of that year fell on
+Wednesday, not Tuesday at all.
+
+Keturah Bangs, who keeps “the perfect boarding house,” says it was
+Tuesday, because she remembers they had fried cod cheeks and cabbage
+that day--as they have every Tuesday--and neither Mr. Tidditt nor Bailey
+Bangs, Keturah's husband, was on hand when the dinner bell rang. Keturah
+says she is certain it was Tuesday, because she remembers smelling the
+boiled cabbage as she stood at the side door, looking up the road to
+see if either Asaph or Bailey was coming. As for Bailey, he says he
+remembers being late to dinner and his wife's “startin' to heave a
+broadsides into him” because of it, but he doesn't remember what day it
+was. This isn't surprising; Keturah's verbal cannonades are likely to
+make one forgetful of trifles.
+
+At any rate, whether Tuesday or Wednesday, it is certain that it was
+quarter past twelve, according to the clock presented to the Methodist
+Society by the Honorable Heman Atkins, when Asaph Tidditt came down the
+steps of the townhall, after the selectmen's meeting, and saw Bailey
+Bangs waiting for him on the opposite side of the road.
+
+“Hello, Ase!” hailed Mr. Bangs. “You'll be late to dinner, if you don't
+hurry. I was headin' for home, all sail sot, when I see you. What kept
+you?”
+
+“Town business, of course,” replied Mr. Tidditt, with the importance
+pertaining to his official position. “What kept YOU, for the land sakes?
+Won't Ketury be in your wool?”
+
+Bailey hasn't any “wool” worth mentioning now, and he had very little
+more then, but he mopped his forehead, or the extension above it, taking
+off his cap to do so.
+
+“I cal'late she will,” he said, uneasily. “Tell you the truth, Ase,
+I was up to the store, and Cap'n Josiah Dimick and some more of
+'em drifted in and we got talkin' about the chances of the harbor
+appropriation, and one thing or 'nother, and 'twas later'n I thought
+'twas 'fore I knew it.”
+
+The appropriation from the government, which was to deepen and widen our
+harbor here at Bayport, was a very vital topic among us just then. Heman
+Atkins, the congressman from our district, had promised to do his best
+for the appropriation, and had for a time been very sanguine of securing
+it. Recently, however, he had not been quite as hopeful.
+
+“What's Cap'n Josiah think about the chances?” asked Asaph eagerly.
+
+“Well, sometimes he thinks 'Yes' and then again he thinks 'No,'” replied
+Bailey. “He says, of course, if Heman is able to get it he will, but if
+he ain't able to, he--he--”
+
+“He won't, I s'pose. Well, _I_ can think that myself, and I don't set
+up to be no inspired know-it-all, like Joe Dimick. He ain't heard from
+Heman lately, has he?”
+
+“No, he ain't. Neither's anybody else, so fur as I can find out.”
+
+“Oh, yes, they have. _I_ have, for one.”
+
+Mr. Bangs stopped short in his double-quick march for home and dinner,
+and looked his companion in the face.
+
+“Ase Tidditt!” he cried. “Do you mean to tell me you've had a letter
+from Heman Atkins, from Washin'ton?”
+
+Asaph nodded portentously.
+
+“Yes, sir,” he declared. “A letter from the Honorable Heman G. Atkins,
+of Washin'ton, D. C., come to me last night. I read it afore I turned
+in.”
+
+“You did! And never said nothin' about it?”
+
+“Why should I say anything about it? 'Twas addressed to me as town
+clerk, and was concernin' a matter to be took up with the board of
+s'lectmen. I ain't in the habit of hollerin' town affairs through a
+speakin' trumpet. Folks that vote for me town-meetin' day know that, I
+guess. Angie Phinney says to me only yesterday, 'Mr. Tidditt,' says she,
+'there's one thing I'll say for you--you don't talk.'”
+
+Miss Phinney boarded with the Bangses, and Bailey was acquainted with
+her personal peculiarities; for that matter so were most of Bayport's
+permanent residents.
+
+“Humph!” he snorted indignantly. “She thought 'twas a good thing not
+to talk, hey? SHE did? Well, by mighty! you never get no CHANCE to talk
+when she's around. Angie Phinney! Why, when that poll parrot of hers
+died, Alph'us Smalley declared up and down that what killed it was
+jealousy and disapp'inted ambition; he said it broke its heart tryin' to
+keep up with Angie. Her ma was the same breed of cats. I remember--”
+
+The talking proclivities of females is the one topic upon which
+Keturah's husband is touchiest. Asaph knew this, but he delighted to
+stir up his chum occasionally. He chuckled as he interrupted the flow of
+reminiscence.
+
+“There, there, Bailey!” he exclaimed. “I know as much about Angie's
+tribe as you do, I cal'late. Ain't we a little mite off the course?
+Seems to me we was talkin' about Heman's letter.”
+
+“Is that so? I judged from what you said we wa'n't goin' to talk about
+it. Aw, don't be so mean, Ase! Showin' off your importance like a young
+one! What did Heman say about the appropriation? Is he goin' to get it?”
+
+Mr. Tidditt paused before replying. Then, bending over, he whispered in
+his chum's ear:
+
+“He never said one word about the appropriation, Bailey; not one word.
+He wanted to know if we'd got this year's taxes on the Whittaker place.
+And, if we hadn't, what was we goin' to do about it? Bailey, between you
+and me and the mizzenmast, Heman Atkins wants to get ahold of that place
+the worst way.”
+
+“He does? He DOES? For the land sakes, ain't he got property enough
+already? Ain't a--a palace like that enough for one man, without wantin'
+to buy a rattletrap like THAT?”
+
+The first “that” was emphasized by a brandished but reverent left hand;
+the second by a derisively pointing right. The two friends had reached
+the crest of the long slope leading up from the townhall. On one side
+of the road stretched the imposing frontage of the “Atkins estate,” with
+its iron fence and stone posts; on the other slouched the weed-grown,
+tumble-down desolation of the “Cy Whittaker place.” The contrast was
+that of opulent prosperity and poverty-stricken neglect.
+
+If our village boasted one of those horseless juggernauts, such as are
+used to carry sightseers in Boston from the old North Church to the
+Public Library and other points of interest--that is, if there was a
+“seeing Bayport” car, it is from this hill that its occupants would be
+given their finest view of the village and its surroundings. As Captain
+Josiah Dimick always says: “Bayport is all north and south, like a
+codfish line. It puts me in mind of Seth Higgins's oldest boy. He was so
+tall and thin that when they bought a suit of clothes for him, they used
+to take reefs in the sides of the jacket and use the cloth to piece onto
+the bottoms of the trousers' legs.” What Captain Joe means is that
+the houses in the village are all built beside three roads running
+longitudinally. There is the “main road” and the “upper road”--or
+“Woodchuck Lane,” just as you prefer--and the “lower road,” otherwise
+known as “Bassett's Holler.”
+
+The “upper road” is sometimes called the “depot road,” because the
+railroad station is conveniently located thereon--convenient for the
+railroad, that is--the station being a full mile from Simmons's “general
+store,” which is considered the center of the town. The upper road
+enters the main road at the corner by the store, and there also are
+the Methodist meetinghouse and the schoolhouse. The townhall is in the
+hollow farther on. Then comes the big hill--
+
+“Whittaker's Hill”--and from the top of this hill you can, on a clear
+day, see for miles across the salt marshes and over the bay to the
+eastward, and west as far as the church steeple in Orham. If there
+happens to be a fog, with a strong easterly wind, you cannot see the
+marshes or the bay, but you can smell them, wet and salty and sweet. It
+is a smell that the born Bayporter never forgets, but carries with him
+in memory wherever he goes; and that, in the palmy days of the merchant
+marine, was likely, to be far, for every male baby in the village was
+born with web feet, so people said, and was predestined to be a sailor.
+
+When Heman Atkins came back from the South Seas early in the '60's,
+“rich as dock mud,” though still a young man, he promptly tore down his
+father's old house, which stood on the crest of Whittaker's Hill, and
+built in its place a big imposing residence. It was by far the finest
+house in Bayport, and Heman made it finer as the years passed. There
+were imitation brownstone pillars supporting its front porch, iron dogs
+and scroll work iron benches bordering its front walk, and a pair of
+stone urns, in summer filled with flowers, beside its big iron front
+gate.
+
+Heman was our leading citizen, our representative in Washington, and the
+town's philanthropist. He gave the Atkins memorial window and the Atkins
+tower clock to the Methodist Church. The Atkins town pump, also his
+gift, stood before the townhall. The Atkins portrait in the Bayport
+Ladies' Library was much admired; and the size of the Atkins fortune was
+the principal subject of conversation at sewing circle, at the table of
+“the perfect boarding house,” around the stove in Simmons's store, or
+wherever Bayporters were used to gather. We never exactly worshipped
+Heman Atkins, perhaps, but we figuratively doffed our hats when his name
+was mentioned.
+
+The “Cy Whittaker place” faced the Atkins estate from the opposite side
+of the main road, but it was the general opinion that it ought to be
+ashamed to face it. Almost everybody called it “the Cy Whittaker place,”
+ although some of the younger set spoke of it as the “Sea Sight House.”
+ It was a big, old-fashioned dwelling, gambrel-roofed and brown and
+dilapidated. Originally it had enjoyed the dignified seclusion afforded
+by a white picket fence with square gateposts, and the path to its
+seldom-used front door had been guarded by rigid lines of box hedge.
+This, however, was years ago, before the second Captain Cy Whittaker
+died, and before the Howes family turned it into the “Sea Sight House,”
+ a hotel for summer boarders.
+
+The Howeses “improved” the house and grounds. They tore down the picket
+fence, uprooted the box hedges, hung a sign over the sacred front door,
+and built a wide veranda under the parlor windows.
+
+They took boarders for five consecutive summers; then they gave up the
+unprofitable undertaking, returned to Concord, New Hampshire, their
+native city, and left the Cy Whittaker place to bear the ravages of
+Bayport winters and Bayport small boys as best it might.
+
+For years it stood empty. The weeds grew high about its foundations; the
+sparrows built nests behind such of its shutters as had not been ripped
+from their hinges by February no'theasters; its roof grew bald in spots
+as the shingles loosened and were blown away; the swallows flew in and
+out of its stone-broken windowpanes. Year by year it became more of a
+disgrace in the eyes of Bayport's neat and thrifty inhabitants--for neat
+and thrifty we are, if we do say it. The selectmen would have liked
+to tear it down, but they could not, because it was private property,
+having been purchased from the Howes heirs by the third Cy Whittaker,
+Captain Cy's only son, who ran away to sea when he was sixteen years
+old, and was disinherited and cast off by the proud old skipper in
+consequence. Each March, Asaph Tidditt, in his official capacity as town
+clerk, had been accustomed to receive an envelope with a South American
+postmark, and in that envelope was a draft on a Boston banking house for
+the sum due as taxes on the “Cy Whittaker place.” The drafts were signed
+“Cyrus M. Whittaker.”
+
+But this particular year--the year in which this chronicle begins--no
+draft had been received. Asaph waited a few weeks and then wrote to the
+address indicated by the postmark. His letter was unanswered. The taxes
+were due in March and it was now May. Mr. Tidditt wrote again; then he
+laid the case before the board of selectmen, and Captain Eben Salters,
+chairman of that august body, also wrote. But even Captain Eben's
+authoritative demand was ignored. Next to the harbor appropriation, the
+question of what should be done about the “Cy Whittaker place” filled
+Bayport's thoughts that spring. No one, however, had supposed that
+the Honorable Heman might wish to buy it. Bailey Bangs's surprise was
+excusable.
+
+“What in the world,” repeated Bailey, “does Heman want of a shebang like
+that? Ain't he got enough already?”
+
+His friend shook his head.
+
+“'Pears not,” he said. “I judge it's this way, Bailey: Heman, he's a
+proud man--”
+
+“Well, ain't he got a right to be proud?” broke in Mr. Bangs, hastening
+to resent any criticism of the popular idol. “Cal'late you and me'd be
+proud if we was able to carry as much sail as he does, wouldn't we?”
+
+“Yes, I guess like we would. But you needn't get red in the face and
+strain your biler just because I said that. I ain't finding fault with
+Heman; I'm only tellin' you. He's proud, as I said, and his wife--”
+
+“She's dead this four year. What are you resurrectin' her for?”
+
+“Land! you're peppery as a West Injy omelet this mornin'. Let me alone
+till I've finished. His wife, when she was alive, she was proud, too.
+And his daughter, Alicia, she's eight year old now, and by and by she'll
+be grown up into a high-toned young woman. Well, Heman is fur-sighted,
+and I s'pose likely he's thinkin' of the days when there'll be young
+rich fellers--senators and--and--well, counts and lords, maybe--cruisin'
+down here courtin' her. By that time the Whittaker place'll be a worse
+disgrace than 'tis now. I presume he don't want those swells to sit on
+his front piazza and see the crows buildin' nests in the ruins acrost
+the road. So--”
+
+“Crows! Did you ever see a crow build a nest in a house? I never did!”
+
+“Oh, belay! Crows or canary birds, what difference does it make?
+SOMETHIN' 'll nest there, if it's only A'nt Sophrony Hallett's hens.
+So Heman he writes to the board, askin' if the taxes is paid, if we've
+heard any reason why they ain't paid, and what we're goin' to do about
+it. If there's a sale for taxes he wants to be fust bidder. Then, when
+the place is his, he can tear down or rebuild, just as he sees fit.
+See?”
+
+“Yes, I see. Well, I feel about that the way Joe Dimick felt when he
+heard the doctor had told Elviry Pepper she must stop singin' in
+the choir or lose her voice altogether. 'Whichever happens 'll be an
+improvement,' says Cap'n Joe; and whatever Heman does 'll help the
+Whittaker place. What did you decide at the meetin'?”
+
+“Nothin'. We can't decide yet. We ain't sure about the law and we want
+to wait a spell, anyhow. But I know how 'twill end: Atkins 'll get the
+place. He always gets what he wants, Heman does.”
+
+Bailey turned and looked back at the old house, forlorn amidst
+its huddle of blackberry briers and weeds, and with the ubiquitous
+“silver-leaf” saplings springing up in clusters everywhere about it and
+closing in on its defenseless walls like squads of victorious soldiery
+making the final charge upon a conquered fort.
+
+“Well,” sighed Mr. Bangs, “so that 'll be the end of the old Whittaker
+place, hey? Sho! things change in a feller's lifetime, don't they? You
+and me can remember, Ase, when Cap'n Cy Whittaker was one of the biggest
+men we had in this town. So was his dad afore him, the Cap'n Cy that
+built the house. I wonder the looks of things here now don't bring them
+two up out of their graves. Do you remember young Cy--'Whit' we used to
+call him--or 'Reddy Whit,' 'count of his red hair? I don't know's you
+do, though; guess you'd gone to sea when he run away from home.”
+
+Mr. Tidditt shook his head.
+
+“No, no!” he said. “I was to home that year. Remember 'Whit'? Well, I
+should say I did. He was a holy terror--yes, sir! Wan't no monkey shines
+or didos cut up in this town that young Cy wan't into. Fur's that goes,
+you and me was in 'em, too, Bailey. We was all holy terrors then. Young
+ones nowadays ain't got the spunk we used to have.”
+
+His friend chuckled.
+
+“That's so,” he declared. “That's so. Whit was a good-hearted boy, too,
+but full of the Old Scratch and as sot in his ways as his dad, and if
+Cap'n Cy wan't sot, then there ain't no sotness. 'You'll go to college
+and be a parson,' says the Cap'n. 'I'll go to sea and be a sailor, same
+as you done,' says Whit. And he did, too; run away one night, took the
+packet to Boston, and shipped aboard an Australian clipper. Cap'n Cy
+didn't go after him to fetch him home. No, sir--ee! not a fetch. Sent
+him a letter plumb to Melbourne and, says he: 'You've made your bed; now
+lay in it. Don't you never dast to come back to me or your ma,' he says.
+And Whit didn't, he wan't that kind.”
+
+“Pretty nigh killed the old lady--Whit's ma--that did,” mused Asaph.
+“She died a little spell afterwards. And the old man pined away, too,
+but he never give in or asked the boy to come back. Stubborn as all
+get-out to the end, he was, and willed the place, all he had left, to
+them Howes folks. And a nice mess THEY made of it. Young Cy, he--”
+
+“Young Cy!” interrupted Bailey. “We're always callin' him 'young Cy,'
+and yet, when you come to think of it, he must be pretty nigh fifty-five
+now; 'most as old as you and I be. Wonder if he'll ever come back here.”
+
+“You bet he won't!” was the oracular reply. “You bet he won't! From what
+I hear he got to be a sea cap'n himself and settled down there in Buenos
+Ayres. He's made all kinds of money, they say, out of hides and such.
+What he ever bought his dad's old place for, _I_ can't see. He'll never
+come back to these common, one-horse latitudes, now you mark my word on
+that!”
+
+It was a prophecy Mr. Tidditt was accustomed to make each year to the
+crowd at the post office, when the receipt for the draft for taxes
+caused him to wax reminiscent. The younger generation here in Bayport
+regard their town clerk as something of an oracle, and this regard has
+made Asaph a trifle vain and positive.
+
+Bailey chuckled again.
+
+“We WAS a spunky, dare-devil lot in the old days, wan't we, Ase?” he
+said. “Spunk was kind of born in us, as you might say. And even now
+we're--”
+
+The Atkins tower clock boomed once--a solemn, dignified stroke. Mr.
+Tidditt and his companion started and looked at each other.
+
+“Godfrey scissors!” gasped Asaph. “Is that half past twelve?”
+
+Mr. Bangs pulled a big worn silver watch from his pocket and glanced at
+the dial.
+
+“It is!” he moaned. “As sure's you're born, it is! We've kept Ketury's
+dinner waitin' twenty minutes. You and me are in for it now, Ase
+Tidditt! Twenty minutes late! She'll skin us alive.”
+
+Mr. Tidditt did not pause to answer, but plunged headlong down the
+hill at a race-horse gait, Bailey pounding at his heels. For “born
+dare-devils,” self-confessed, they were a nervous and apprehensive pair.
+
+The “perfect boarding house” is situated a quarter of a mile beyond
+“Whittaker's Hill,” nearly opposite the Salters homestead. The sign,
+hung on the pole by the front gate, reads, “Bayport Hotel. Bailey Bangs,
+Proprietor,” but no one except the stranger in Bayport accepts that sign
+seriously. When, owing to an unexpected change in the administration
+at Washington, Mr. Bangs was obliged to relinquish his position as our
+village postmaster, his wife came to the rescue with the proposal that
+they open a boarding house. “'Whatsoe'er you find to do,' quoted Keturah
+at sewing-circle meeting, 'do it then with all your might!' That's a
+good Sabbath-school hymn tune and it's good sense besides. I intend to
+make it my life work to run just as complete a--a eatin' and lodgin'
+establishment as I can. If, when I'm laid to rest, they can put onto my
+gravestone, 'She run the perfect boardin' house,' I'LL be satisfied.”
+
+This remark, and subsequent similar declarations, were widely quoted,
+and, therefore, though casual visitors may refer to the “Bayport Hotel,”
+ to us natives the Bangs residence is always “Keturah's perfect boarding
+house.” As for the sign's affirmation of Mr. Bangs proprietorship,
+that is considered the cream of the joke. The idea of meek, bald-headed
+little Bailey posing as proprietor of anything while his wife is on
+deck, tickles Bayport's sense of humor.
+
+The perspiring delinquents panted into the yard of the perfect boarding
+house and tremblingly opened the door leading to the dining room. Dinner
+was well under way, and Mrs. Bangs, enthroned at the end of the long
+table, behind the silver-plated teapot, was waiting to receive them. The
+silence was appalling.
+
+“Sorry to be a little behindhand, Ketury,” stammered Asaph hurriedly.
+“Town affairs are important, of course, and can't be neglected. I--”
+
+“Yes, yes; that's so, Ketury,” cut in Mr. Bangs.
+
+“You see--”
+
+“Hum! Yes, I see.” Keturah's tone was several degrees below freezing.
+“Hum! I s'pose 'twas town affairs kept you, too, hey?”
+
+“Well, well--er--not exactly, as you might say, but--” Bailey squeezed
+himself into the armchair at the end of the table opposite his wife, the
+end which, with sarcasm not the less keen for being unintentional, was
+called the “head.” “Not exactly town affairs, 'twan't that kept me,
+Ketury, but--My! don't them cod cheeks smell good? You always could cook
+cod cheeks, if I do say it.”
+
+The compliment was wasted. Mrs. Bangs had a sermon to deliver, and its
+text was not “cod cheeks.”
+
+“Bailey Bangs,” she began, “when I was brought to realize that my
+husband, although apparently an able-bodied man, couldn't support me as
+I'd been used to be supported, and when I was forced to support HIM
+by keepin' boarders, I says, 'If there's one thing that my house shall
+stand for it's punctual promptness at meal times. I say nothing,' I
+says, 'about the inconvenience of gettin' on with only one hired help
+when we ought to have three. If Providence, in its unscrutable wisdom,'
+I says, 'has seen fit to lay this burden onto me, the burden of a
+household of boarders and a husband whom--'”
+
+And just then the power referred to by Mrs. Bangs intervened to spare
+her husband the remainder of the preachment. From the driveway of the
+yard, beside the dining-room windows, came the rattle of wheels and
+the tramp of a horse's feet. Mrs. Matilda Tripp, who sat nearest the
+windows, on that side, rose and peered out.
+
+“It's the depot wagon, Ketury,” she said. “There's somebody inside it. I
+wonder if they're comin' here.”
+
+“Transients” were almost unknown quantities at the Bayport Hotel in May.
+Consequently, all the boarders and the landlady herself crowded to the
+windows. The “depot wagon” had drawn up by the steps, and Gabe Lumley,
+the driver, had descended from his seat and was doing his best to open
+the door of the ancient vehicle. It stuck, of course; the doors of all
+depot wagons stick.
+
+“Hold on a shake!” commanded some one inside the carriage. “Wait till
+I get a purchase on her. Now, then! All hands to the ropes! Heave--ho!
+THERE she comes!”
+
+The door flew back with a bang. A man sprang out upon the lower step of
+the porch. The eye of every inmate of the perfect boarding house was on
+him. Even the “hired help” peered from the kitchen door.
+
+“He's a stranger,” whispered Mrs. Tripp. “I never see him before, did
+you, Mr. Tidditt?”
+
+The town clerk did not answer. He was staring at the depot wagon's
+passenger, staring with a face the interested expression of which was
+changing to that of surprise and amazed incredulity. Mrs. Tripp turned
+to Mr. Bangs; he also was staring, open-mouthed.
+
+“Godfrey scissors!” gasped Asaph, under his breath. “Godfrey--SCISSORS!
+Bailey, I--I believe--I swan to man, I believe--”
+
+“Ase Tidditt!” exclaimed Mr. Bangs, “am I goin' looney, or is that--is
+that--”
+
+Neither finished his sentence. There are times when language seems so
+pitifully inadequate.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE WANDERER'S RETURN
+
+
+Here in Bayport, nowadays, the collecting of “antiques” is a favorite
+amusement of our summer visitors. Those of us who were fortunate enough
+to possess a set of nicked blue dishes, a warming pan, or a tall clock
+with wooden wheels, have long ago parted with these treasures for
+considerable sums. Oddly enough Sylvanus Cahoon has profited most by
+this craze. Sylvanus used to be judged the unluckiest man in town; of
+late this judgment has been revised.
+
+It was Sylvanus who, confined to the house by an illness brought on by
+eating too much “sugar cake” at a free sociable given by the Methodist
+Society, arose in the night and drank copiously of what he supposed to
+be the medicine left by the doctor. It happened to be water-bug poison,
+and Sylvanus was nearly killed by the dose. He is reported as having
+admitted that he “didn't mind dyin' so much, but hated to die such a dum
+mean death.”
+
+While convalescent he took to smoking in bed and was burned out of
+house and home in consequence. Then it was that his kind-hearted fellow
+citizens donated, for the furnishing of his new residence, all the
+cast-off bits of furniture and odds and ends from their garrets.
+“Charity,” observed Captain Josiah Dimick at the time, “begins at home
+with us Bayporters, and it generally begins up attic, that bein' nighest
+to heaven.”
+
+Later Sylvanus sold most of the donations as “antiques” and made money
+enough therefrom to buy a new plush parlor set. Miss Angeline Phinney
+never called on the Cahoons after that without making her appearance at
+the front door. “I'll get some good out of that plush sofy I helped to
+pay for,” declared Angeline, “if it's only to wear it out by settin' on
+it.”
+
+There are two “antiques” in Bayport which have not yet been sold or even
+bid for. One is Gabe Lumley's “depot wagon,” and the other is “Dan'l
+Webster,” the horse which draws it. Both are very ancient, sadly in need
+of upholstery, and jerky of locomotion.
+
+Gabe was, as usual, waiting at the station when the down train arrived,
+on the Tuesday--or Wednesday--of the selectmen's meeting. The train was
+due, according to the time-table, at eleven forty-five. This time-table,
+and the signboard of the “Bayport Hotel” are the only bits of humorous
+literature peculiar to our village, unless we add the political
+editorials of the Bayport Breeze.
+
+So, at eleven forty-five, Mr. Lumley was serenely dozing on the baggage
+truck, which he had wheeled to the sunny side of the platform. At five
+minutes past twelve, he yawned, stretched, and looked at his watch.
+Then, rolling off the truck, he strolled to the edge of the platform and
+spoke authoritatively to “Dan'l Webster.”
+
+“Hi there! stand still!” commanded Mr. Lumley.
+
+Standing still being Dan'l's long suit, the order was obeyed. Gabe then
+loafed to the door of the station and accosted the depot master, who was
+nodding in his chair beside the telegraph instrument.
+
+“Where is she now, Ed?” asked Mr. Lumley, referring to the train.
+
+“Just left South Harniss. Be here pretty soon. What's your hurry?
+Expectin' anybody?”
+
+“Naw; nobody that I know of, special. Sophrony Hallett's gone to
+Ostable, but she won't be back till to-morrow I cal'late. Hello! there
+she whistles now.”
+
+Needless to say it was the train, not the widow Hallett, that had
+whistled. The depot master rose from his chair. A yellow dog, his
+property, scrambled from beneath it, and rushing out of the door and
+to the farther end of the platform, barked furiously. Cephas Baker, who
+lives across the road from the depot, slouched down to his front gate.
+His wife opened the door of her kitchen and stood there, her wet arms
+wrapped in her apron. The five Baker children tore round the corner of
+the house, over the back fence, and lined up, whooping joyously, on the
+platform. A cloud of white smoke billowed above the clump of cedars at
+the bend of the track. Then the locomotive rounded the curve and bore
+down upon the station.
+
+“Stand still, I tell you!” shouted Gabe, addressing the horse.
+
+Dan'l Webster opened one eye, closed it and relapsed into slumber.
+
+The train, a combination baggage car and smoker, two freight cars and
+a passenger coach, rolled ponderously alongside the platform. From the
+open door of the baggage car were tossed the mail sack and two express
+packages. The conductor stepped from the passenger coach. Following
+him came briskly a short, thickset man with a reddish-gray beard and
+grayish-red hair.
+
+“Goin' down to the village, Mister?” inquired Mr. Lumley. “Carriage
+right here.”
+
+The stranger inspected the driver of the depot wagon, inspected him
+deliberately from top to toe. Then he said:
+
+“Down to the village? Why, yes, I wouldn't wonder. Say! you're a Lumley,
+ain't you?”
+
+“Why! why--yes, I be! How'd you know that? Ain't ever seen you afore,
+have I?”
+
+“Guess not,” with a quiet chuckle. “I've never seen you, either, but
+I've seen your nose. I'd know a Lumley nose if I run across it in
+China.”
+
+The possessor of the “Lumley nose” rubbed that organ in a bewildered
+fashion. Recovering in a measure he laughed, rather half-heartedly, and
+begged to know if the trunk, then being unloaded from the baggage car,
+belonged to his prospective passenger. As the answer was an affirmative
+nod, he secured the trunk check and departed, still rubbing his nose.
+
+When he returned, with the trunk on the truck, he found the stranger,
+with his hands in his pockets, standing before Dan'l Webster and gazing
+at that animal with an expression of acute interest.
+
+“Is this your--horse?” demanded the newcomer, pausing before the final
+word of his question.
+
+“It's so cal'lated to be,” replied Gabe, with dignity.
+
+“Hum! Does he work nights?”
+
+“Work nights? No, course he don't!”
+
+“Oh, all right! Then you can wake him up with a clear conscience. I
+didn't know but he needed the sleep. What's his record?”
+
+“Record?”
+
+“Yup; his trottin' record. Anybody can see he's built for speed, narrow
+in the beam and sharp fore and aft. Shall I get aboard the barouche?”
+
+The depot master, who was on hand to help with the trunk, grinned
+broadly. Mr. Lumley sulkily made answer that his passenger might get
+aboard if he wanted to. Apparently he wanted to, for he sprang into the
+depot wagon with a bounce that made the old vehicle rock on its springs.
+
+“Jerushy!” he exclaimed, “she rolls some, don't she? Never mind, MY
+ballast 'll keep her on an even keel. Trunk made fast astern? All
+right! Say! you might furl some of this spare canvas so's I can take
+an observation as we go along. Don't go so fast that the scenery gets
+blurred, will you? It's been some time since I made this cruise, and I'd
+rather like to keep a lookout.”
+
+The driver “furled the canvas”--that is, he rolled up the curtains at
+the sides of the carryall. Then he climbed to the front seat and took up
+the reins.
+
+“Git up!” he shouted savagely. Dan'l Webster did not move.
+
+The passenger offered a suggestion. “Why don't you try hangin' an alarm
+clock in his fore-riggin'?” he asked.
+
+“Haw! haw!” roared the depot master.
+
+“Git up, you--you lump!” bellowed the harassed Mr. Lumley. Dan'l pricked
+up one ear, then a hoof, and slowly got under way. As the equipage
+passed the Baker homestead, the whole family was clustered about the
+gate, staring at the occupant of the wagon. The stare was returned.
+
+“Who lives in there?” demanded the stranger. “Who are those folks?”
+
+“Ceph Baker's tribe,” was the sullen answer.
+
+“Baker, hey? Humph! new folks, I presume likely. Used to be Seth Snow's
+house, that did. Where'd Seth go to?”
+
+Gabe grunted that he did not know. He believed Mr. Snow was dead, had
+died years before.
+
+“Humph! dead, hey? Then I know where he went. Do you ever smoke--or does
+drivin' this horse make you too nervous?”
+
+Mr. Lumley thawed a bit at the sight of the proffered cigar. He admitted
+that he smoked occasionally and that he guessed “'twouldn't interfere
+with the drivin' none.”
+
+“Good enough! then we'll light up. I can talk better if I'm under a head
+of steam. There's a new house; who built that?”
+
+The “new” house was fifteen years old, but Gabe gave the name of its
+builder. Then, thinking that the catechising had been altogether too
+one-sided, he ventured an observation of his own.
+
+“This is a pretty good cigar, Mister,” he said. “Smokes like a
+Snowflake.”
+
+“Like a what?”
+
+“Like a Snowflake. That's about the best straight five center you can
+get around here. Simmons used to keep 'em, but the drummer's cart ain't
+called lately and he's all out.”
+
+“That's a shame. I told the train boy that these smoked like somethin',
+but I didn't know what to call it. Much obliged to you. Here's another;
+put it in your pocket. Oh, no thanks; pleasure's all mine. Who's
+Simmons?”
+
+Gabe described the Simmons general store and its proprietor. Then he
+added:
+
+“I was noticin' that trunk of yours, mister; it's all plastered over
+with labels, ain't it? Cal'late that trunk's done some travelin', hey?”
+
+“Think so, do you?”
+
+“Yup. Gee! I'd like to travel myself. But no! I got to stay all my life
+in this dead 'n' alive hole. I wanted to go to Boston and clerk in
+a store, but the old man put his foot down, and here I've stuck ever
+sence. Git up, Dan'l! What's the matter with you?”
+
+The passenger smiled, but there was a dreamy look in his gray eyes.
+
+“Don't find fault, son,” he said. “There's worse places in the world
+than old Bayport, and worse judgment than mindin' your dad. Don't forget
+that or you may be sorry for it some day.” He sniffed eagerly. “Ah!” he
+exclaimed, “just smell that, will you? Ain't that FINE?”
+
+“Humph! that's the flats. You can smell 'em any time when the tide's out
+and the wind's right. You see, the tide goes out pretty fur here and--”
+
+“Don't I know it? Son, I've been waitin' thirty odd year for that smell
+and here 'tis at last. Drive slow and let me fill up on it. Just blow
+that--that Snowstorm of yours the other way for a spell, won't you?
+Thanks.”
+
+The request to be driven slow was so superfluous that Mr. Lumley paid
+no attention to it. He puffed industriously at the Snowflake and watched
+his companion, who, leaning forward on the seat, was gazing out at
+the town and the bay beyond it. The “depot hill” is not as high as
+Whittaker's Hill, but the view is almost as extensive.
+
+“Excuse me, Mister,” observed Gabe, after an interval, “but you ain't
+said where you're goin'.”
+
+The passenger came out of his day dream with a start.
+
+“Why, that's right!” he exclaimed. “So I haven't! Well, now, where would
+you go, if you was me? Is there a hotel or tavern or somethin'?”
+
+“Yup. There's the Bayport Hotel. 'Tain't exactly a hotel, neither. We
+call it the perfect boardin' house 'round here. You see--”
+
+He proceeded to tell the story of “the perfect boarding house.” His
+listener seemed greatly interested, and although he laughed, did not
+interrupt until the tale was ended.
+
+“So!” he said, chuckling. “Bailey Bangs, hey? Stub Bangs! Well, well!
+And he married Ketury Payson! How in time did he ever find spunk enough
+to propose? And Ketury runs the perfect boardin' house! Well, that ought
+to be job enough for one woman. She runs Bailey, too, on the side, I
+s'pose?”
+
+“You bet you! He don't dast to say 'boo' to a chicken when she's 'round.
+I say, Mister! I don't know's I know your name, do I? I judge you've
+been here afore so--”
+
+“Yes, I've been here before. Whose is that big place up there across our
+bows? The one with the cupola on the main truck?”
+
+“That, sir,” said Mr. Lumley, oratorically, “belongs to the Honorable
+Heman G. Atkins, and it's probably the finest in this county. Heman is
+our representative in Washin'ton, and--Did you say anything?”
+
+The passenger had said something, but he did not repeat it. He was
+leaning from the carriage and gazing steadily up the slope ahead.
+And his gaze, strange to say, was not directed at the imposing Atkins
+estate, but at its opposite neighbor, the old “Cy Whittaker place.”
+
+Slowly, laboriously, Dan'l Webster mounted the hill. At the crest he
+would have paused to take breath, but the driver would not let him.
+
+“Git along, you!” he commanded, flapping the reins.
+
+And then Mr. Lumley suffered the shock of a surprise. The hitherto cool
+and self-possessed occupant of the rear seat seemed very much excited.
+His big red hand clasped Mr. Lumley's over the reins, and Dan'l was
+brought to an abrupt standstill.
+
+“Heave to!” he ordered, sharply, and the tone was that of one who has
+given many orders and expects them to be obeyed. “Belay! Whoa, there!
+Great land of love! look at that! LOOK at it! Who did that?”
+
+The mate to the big red hand pointed to the front door of the Whittaker
+place. Gabe was alarmed.
+
+“Done what? Done which?” he gasped. “What you talkin' about? There ain't
+nobody lives in there. That house has been empty for--”
+
+“Where's the front fence?” demanded the excited passenger. “What's
+become of the hedge? And who put up that--that darned piazza?”
+
+The piazza had been where it now was almost since Mr. Lumley could
+remember. He hastened to reply that he didn't know; he wasn't sure;
+he presumed likely 'twas “them New Hampshire Howeses,” when they ran a
+summer boarding house.
+
+The stranger drew a long breath. “Well, of all the--” he began. Then
+he choked, hesitated, and ordered his driver to heave ahead and run
+alongside the hotel as quick as the Almighty would let him. Gabe
+hastened to obey. He was now absolutely certain that his companion was
+an escaped lunatic, and the sooner another keeper was appointed the
+better. The remainder of the trip was made in silence.
+
+Mrs. Bangs opened the door of the perfect boarding house and stood
+majestically waiting to receive the prospective guest. Over her
+shoulders peered the faces of the boarders.
+
+“Good afternoon,” began the landlady. “I presume likely you would like
+to--”
+
+She was interrupted. The newcomer turned toward her and extended his
+hand.
+
+“Hello, Ketury!” he said. “I ain't seen you sence you wore your hair
+up, but you're just as good-lookin' as ever. And ain't that Bailey? Yes,
+'tis, and Asaph, too! How are you, boys? Shake!”
+
+Mr. Bangs and his chum, the town clerk, had emerged from the doorway.
+Their mouths and eyes were wide open and they seemed to be suffering
+from a sort of paralysis.
+
+“Well? What's the matter with you?” demanded the arrival. “Ain't too
+stuck up to shake hands after all these years, are you?”
+
+Bailey's mouth closed in order that it's possessor might swallow. Then
+it slowly reopened.
+
+“I swan to man!” he ejaculated. “WELL! I swan to man! I--I b'lieve
+you're Cy Whittaker!”
+
+“Course I am. Have to dye my carrot top if I want to play anybody else.
+But look here, boys, you answer my question: who had the cheek to rig
+up that blasted piazza on my house? It starts to come down to-morrow
+mornin'!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+“FIXIN' OVER”
+
+
+Miss Angeline Phinney made no less than nine calls that afternoon.
+Before bedtime it was known, from the last house in Woodchuck Lane to
+the fish shanties at West Bayport, that “young Cy” Whittaker had come
+back; that he had come back “for good”; that he was staying temporarily
+at the perfect boarding house; that he was “awful well off”--having made
+lots of money down in South America; that he intended to “fix over”
+ the Whittaker place, and that it was to be fixed over, not in a modern
+manner, with plush parlor sets--a la Sylvanus Cahoon--nor with onyx
+tables and blue and gold chairs like those adorning the Atkins mansion.
+It was to be, as near as possible, a reproduction of what it had been in
+the time of the late “Cap'n Cy,” young Cy's father.
+
+“_I_ think he's out of his head,” declared Miss Phinney, in confidence,
+to each of the nine females whom she favored with her calls. “Not crazy,
+you understand, but sort of touched in the upper story. I says so to
+Matildy Tripp, said it right out, too: 'Matildy,' I says, 'he's got a
+screw loose up aloft just as sure as you're a born woman!' 'What makes
+you think so?' says she. 'Well,' says I, 'do you s'pose anybody that
+wan't foolish would be for spendin' good money on an old house to
+make it OLDER?' I says. Goin' to tear down the piazza the fust thing!
+Perfectly good piazza that cost ninety-eight dollars and sixty cents to
+build; I know, because I see the bill when the Howeses had it done. And
+he's goin' to set out box hedges, somethin' that ain't been the style
+in this town sence Congressman Atkins pulled up his. 'What in the world,
+Cap'n Whittaker,' says I to him, 'do you want of box hedges? Homely
+and stiff and funeral lookin'! I might have 'em around my grave in the
+buryin' ground,' I says, 'but nowheres else.' 'All right, Angie,' says
+he, 'you shall have 'em there; I'll cut some slips purpose for you.
+It'll be a pleasure,' he says. Now ain't that crazy talk for a grown
+man?”
+
+Miss Phinney was not the only one in our village to question Captain
+Cy Whittaker's sanity during the next few months. The majority of
+our people didn't understand him at all. He was generally liked, for
+although he had money, he did not put on airs, but he had his own way of
+doing things, and they were not Bayport ways.
+
+True to his promise, he had a squad of carpenters busy, on the
+day following his arrival, tearing down the loathed piazza. These
+carpenters, and more, were kept busy throughout that entire spring
+and well into the summer. Then came painters and gardeners. The piazza
+disappeared; a new picket fence, exactly like the old one torn down by
+the Howeses, was erected; new shutters were hung; new windowpanes were
+set; the roof was newly shingled. Captain Cy, Senior, had, in his day,
+cherished a New England fondness for white and green paint; therefore
+the new fence was white and the house was white and the blinds a
+brilliant green. Rows of box hedge, the plants brought from Boston, were
+set out on each side of the front walk. The Howes front-door bell--a
+clamorous gong--was removed, and a glass knob attached to a spring bell
+of the old-fashioned “jingle” variety took its place. An old-fashioned
+flower garden--Cap'n Cy's mother had loved posies--was laid out on
+the west lawn beyond the pear trees. All these changes the captain
+superintended; when they were complete he turned his attention to
+interior decoration.
+
+And now Captain Cy proceeded to, literally, astonish the natives. Among
+the Howes “improvements” were gilt wall papers and modern furniture for
+the lower floor of the house. The furniture they had taken with them;
+the wall paper had perforce been left behind. And the captain had every
+scrap of that paper stripped from the walls, and the latter re-covered
+with quaint, ugly, old-fashioned patterns, stripes and roses and
+flowered sprays with impossible birds flitting among them. The Bassett
+decorators has pasted the gilt improvement over the old Whittaker paper,
+and it was the Whittaker paper that the captain did his best to match,
+sending samples here, there, and everywhere in the effort. Then, upon
+the walls he hung old-fashioned pictures, such as Bayport dwellers had
+long ago relegated to their attics, pictures like “From Shore to Shore,”
+ “Christian Viewing the City Beautiful,” and “Signing the Declaration.”
+ To these he added, bringing them from the crowded garret of the
+homestead, oil paintings of ships commanded by his father and
+grandfather, and family portraits, executed--which is a peculiarly
+fitting word--by deceased local artists in oil and crayon.
+
+He boarded up the fireplace in the sitting room and installed a
+base-burner stove, resurrected from the tinsmith's barn. He purchased
+a full “haircloth set” of parlor furniture from old Mrs. Penniman, who
+never had been known to sell any of her hoarded belongings before, even
+to the “antiquers,” and wouldn't have done so now, had it not been that
+the captain's offer was too princely to be real, and the old lady feared
+she might be dreaming and would wake up before she received the money.
+And from Trumet to Ostable he journeyed, buying a chair here and a table
+there, braided rag mats from this one, and corded bedsteads and “rising
+sun” quilts from that. At least half of Bayport believed with Gabe
+Lumley and Miss Phinney that, if Captain Cy had not escaped from a home
+for the insane, he was a likely candidate for such an institution.
+
+At the table of the perfect boarding house the captain was not inclined
+to be communicative regarding his reasons and his intentions. He was a
+prime favorite there, praising Keturah's cooking, joking with Angeline
+concerning what he was pleased to call her “giddy” manner of dressing
+and wearing “side curls,” and telling yarns of South American dress
+and behavior, which would probably have shocked Mrs. Tripp--she having
+recently left the Methodist church to join the “Come-Outers,” because
+the Sunday services of the former were, with the organ and a paid choir,
+altogether “too play-actin'”--if they had not been so interesting, and
+if Captain Cy had not always concluded them with the observation: “But
+there! you can't expect nothin' more from ignorant critters denied
+the privileges of congregational singin' and experience meetin's; hey,
+Matilda?”
+
+Mrs. Tripp would sigh and admit that she supposed not.
+
+“Only I do wish Mr. Daniels, OUR minister, might have a chance to preach
+over 'em, poor things!”
+
+“So do I,” with a covert wink at Mrs. Bangs, who was a stanch adherent
+of the regular faith. “South America 'd be just the place for him; ain't
+that so, Keturah?”
+
+He evaded all personal questions put to him by the boarders, explaining
+that he was renovating the old place just for fun--he always had had a
+gang of men working for him, and it seemed natural somehow. But to the
+friends of his boyhood, Asaph Tidditt and Bailey Bangs, he told the real
+truth.
+
+“I swan to man!” exclaimed Bailey, almost tearfully, as the trio
+wandered through the rooms of the Cy Whittaker place, dodging paper
+hangers and plasterers; “I swan to man, Whit, if it don't almost seem as
+though I was a boy again. Why! it's your dad's house come back alive,
+it is so! Look at this settin' room! Seem's if I could see him now
+a-settin' by that ere stove, and Mrs. Whittaker, your ma, over there
+a-sewin', and old Cap'n Cy--your granddad--snoozin' in that big
+armchair--Why! why, whit! it's the very image of the chair he always set
+in!”
+
+Captain Cy laughed aloud.
+
+“It's more n' that, Bailey,” he said; “it's THE chair. 'Twas up attic,
+all busted and crippled, but I had it made over like new. And there's
+granddad's picture, lookin' just as I remember him--only he wan't quite
+so much of a frozen wax image as he's painted there. I'm goin' to hang
+it where it always hung, over the mantelpiece, next to the lookin'
+glass.
+
+“Great land of love, boys!” he went on, “you fellers don't know what
+this means to me. Many and many's the time I've had this old house and
+this old room in my mind. I've seen 'em aboard ship in a howlin' gale
+off the Horn. I've seen 'em down in Surinam of a hot night, when
+there wan't a breath scurcely and the Caribs went around dressed in a
+handkerchief and a paper cigar, and it made you wish you could. I've
+seen 'em--but there! every time I've seen 'em I've swore that some day
+I'd come back and LIVE 'em, and now, by the big dipper! here I am. Oh, I
+tell you, chummies, you want to be fired OUT of a home and out of a town
+to appreciate 'em! Not that I blame the old man; he and I was too
+much alike to cruise in company. But Bayport I was born in, and in the
+Bayport graveyard they can plant me when I'm ready for the scrap heap.
+It's in the blood and--Why, see here! Don't I TALK like a Bayporter?”
+
+“You sartin do!” replied Asaph emphatically.
+
+“A body 'd think you'd been diggin' clams and pickin' cranberries in
+Bassett's Holler all your life long, to hear you.”
+
+“You bet! Well, that's pride; that's what that is. I prided myself
+on hangin' to the Bayport twang through thick and thin. Among all the
+Spanish 'Carambas' and 'Madre de Dioses' it did me good to come out with
+a good old Yankee 'darn' once in a while. Kept me feelin' like a white
+man. Oh, I'm a Whittaker! _I_ know it. And I've got all the Whittaker
+pig-headedness, I guess. And because the old man--bless his heart, I
+say now--told me I shouldn't BE a Whittaker no more, nor live like a
+Whittaker, I simply swore up and down I would be one and come back here,
+when I'd made my pile, to heave anchor and stay one till I die. Maybe
+that's foolishness, but it's me.”
+
+He puffed vigorously at the pipe which had taken the place of the
+Snowflake cigar, and added:
+
+“Take this old settin' room--why, here it is; see! Here's dad in his
+chair and ma in hers, and, if you go back far enough, granddad in his,
+just as you say, Bailey. And here's me, a little shaver, squattin' on
+the floor by the stove, lookin' at the pictures in a heap of Godey's
+Lady's Book. And says dad, 'Bos'n,' he says--he used to call me 'Bos'n'
+in those days--'Bos'n,' says dad, 'run down cellar and fetch me up a
+pitcher of cider, that's a good feller.' Yes, yes; that's this room as
+I've seen it in my mind ever since I tiptoed through it the night I
+run away, with my duds in a bundle under my arm. Do you wonder I was
+fightin' mad when I saw what that Howes tribe had done to it?”
+
+Superintending the making over of the old home occupied most of Captain
+Cy's daylight time that summer. His evenings were spent at Simmons's
+store. We have no clubs in Bayport, strictly speaking, for the sewing
+circle and the Shakespeare Reading Society are exclusively feminine in
+membership; therefore Simmons's store is the gathering place of those
+males who are bachelors or widowers or who are sufficiently free from
+petticoat government to risk an occasional evening out. Asaph Tidditt
+was a regular sojourner at the store. Bailey Bangs, happening in to
+purchase fifty cents' worth of sugar or to have the molasses jug filled,
+lingered occasionally, but not often. Captain Cy explained Bailey's
+absence in characteristic fashion.
+
+“Variety,” observed the captain, “is the spice of life. Bailey gets talk
+enough to home. What's the use of his comin' up here to get more?”
+
+“Oh, I don't know,” said Josiah Dimick, with a grin, “we let him do some
+of the talkin' himself up here. Down at the boardin' house Keturah and
+Angie Phinney do it all.”
+
+“Yes. Still, if a feller was condemned to live over a biler factory he
+wouldn't hanker to get a job IN it, would he? When Bailey was a delegate
+to the Methodist Conference up in Boston, him and a crowd visited the
+deef and dumb asylum. When 'twas time to go, he was missin', and they
+found him in the female ward lookin' at the inmates. Said that the sight
+of all them women, every one of 'em not able to say a word, was the
+most wonderful thing ever he laid eyes on. Said it made him feel kind of
+reverent and holy, almost as if he was in Paradise. So Ase Tidditt says,
+anyway; it's his yarn.”
+
+“'Tain't nuther, Cy Whittaker!” declared the indignant Asaph. “If you
+expect I'm goin' to father all your lies, you're mistaken.”
+
+The crowd at Simmons's discuss politics, as a general thing; state
+and national politics in their seasons, but county politics and local
+affairs always. The question in Bayport that summer, aside from that of
+the harbor appropriation, was who should be hired as downstairs teacher.
+Our schoolhouse is a two-story building, with a schoolroom on each
+floor. The lower room, where the little tots begin with their “C--A--T
+Cat,” and progress until they have mastered the Fourth Reader, is called
+“downstairs.” “Upstairs” is, of course, the second story, where the
+older children are taught. To handle some of the “big boys” upstairs
+is a task for a healthy man, and such a one usually fills the teacher's
+position there. Downstairs being, in theory, at least, less strenuous,
+is presided over by a woman.
+
+Miss Seabury, who had been downstairs teacher for one lively term, had
+resigned that spring in tears and humiliation. Her scholars had enjoyed
+themselves and would have liked her to continue, but the committee and
+the townspeople thought otherwise. There was a general feeling that
+enjoyment was not the whole aim of education.
+
+“Betty,” said Captain Dimick, referring to his small granddaughter, “has
+done fust rate so fur's marksmanship and lung trainin' goes. I cal'late
+she can hit a nail head ten foot off with a spitball three times out of
+four, and she can whisper loud enough to be understood in Jericho. But,
+not wishing to be unreasonable, still I should like to have her spell
+'door' without an 'e.' I've always been used to seein' it spelled that
+way and--well, I'm kind of old-fashioned, anyway.”
+
+There was a difference of opinion concerning Miss Seabury's successor.
+A portion of the townspeople were for hiring a graduate of the State
+Normal School, a young woman with modern training. Others, remembering
+that Miss Seabury had graduated from that school, were for proved
+ability and less up-to-date methods. These latter had selected a
+candidate in the person of a Miss Phoebe Dawes, a resident of Wellmouth,
+and teacher of the Wellmouth “downstairs” for some years. The arguments
+at Simmons's were hot ones.
+
+“What's the use of hirin' somebody from right next door to us, as you
+might say?” demanded Alpheus Smalley, clerk at the store. “Don't we want
+our teachin' to be abreast of the times, and is Wellmouth abreast of
+ANYthing?”
+
+“It's abreast of the bay, that's about all, I will give in,” replied Mr.
+Tidditt. “But, the way I look at it, we need disCIPline more 'n anything
+else, and Phoebe Dawes has had the best disCIPline in her school, that's
+been known in these latitudes. Order? Why, say! Eben Salters told me
+that when he visited her room over there 'twas so still that he didn't
+dast to rub one shoe against t'other, it sounded up so. He had to set
+still and bear his chilblains best he could. And POPULAR! Why, when she
+hinted that she might leave in May, her scholars more 'n ha'f of 'em,
+bust out cryin'. Now you hear me, I--”
+
+“It seems to me,” put in Thaddeus Simpson, who ran the barber shop
+and was something of a politician, “it seems to me, fellers, that we'd
+better wait and hear what Mr. Atkins has to say in this matter. I
+guess that's what the committee 'll do, anyhow. We wouldn't want to go
+contrary to Heman, none of us; hey?”
+
+“Tad” Simpson was known to be deep in Congressman Atkins's confidence.
+The mention of the great man's name was received with reverence and nods
+of approval.
+
+“That's right. We mustn't do nothin' to displease Heman,” was the
+general opinion.
+
+Captain Cy did not join the chorus. He refilled his pipe and crossed his
+legs.
+
+“Humph!” he grunted. “Heman Atkins seems to be--Give me a match, Ase,
+won't you? Thanks. I understand there's a special prayer meetin' at the
+church to-morrow night, Alpheus. What's it for?”
+
+“For?” Mr. Smalley seemed surprised. “It's to pray for rain, that's
+what. You know it, Cap'n, as well's I do. Ain't everybody's garden
+dryin' up and the ponds so low that we shan't be able to get water
+for the cranberry ditches pretty soon? There's need to pray, I should
+think!”
+
+“Humph! Seems a roundabout way of gettin' a thing, don't it? Why don't
+you telegraph to Heman and ask him to fix it for you? Save time.”
+
+This remark was received in horrified silence. Tad Simpson was the first
+to recover.
+
+“Cap'n,” he said, “you ain't met Mr. Atkins yet. When you do, you'll
+feel same as the rest of us. He's comin' home next week; then you'll
+see.”
+
+A part at least of Mr. Simpson's prophecy proved true. The Honorable
+Atkins did come to Bayport the following week, accompanied by his little
+daughter Alicia, the housekeeper, and the Atkins servants. The Honorable
+and his daughter had been, since the adjournment of Congress, on a
+pleasure trip to the Yosemite and Yellowstone Park, and now they were
+to remain in the mansion on the hill for some time. The big house was
+opened, the stone urns burst into refulgent bloom, the iron dogs were
+refreshed with a coat of black paint, and the big iron gate was swung
+wide. Bayport sat up and took notice. Angeline Phinney was in her glory.
+
+The meeting between Captain Cy and Mr. Atkins took place the morning
+after the latter's return. The captain and his two chums had been
+inspecting the progress made by the carpenters and were leaning over the
+new fence, then just erected, but not yet painted. Down the gravel walk
+of the mansion across the road came strolling its owner, silk-hatted,
+side-whiskered, benignant.
+
+“Godfrey!” exclaimed Asaph. “There's Heman. See him, Whit?”
+
+“Yup, I see him. Seems to be headin' this way.”
+
+“I--I do believe he's comin' across,” whispered Mr. Bangs. “Yes, he is.
+He's real everyday, Cy. HE won't mind if you ain't dressed up.”
+
+“Won't he? That's comfortin'. Well, I'll do the best I can without
+stimulants, as the doctor says. If you hear my knees rattle just nudge
+me, will you, Bailey?”
+
+Mr. Tidditt removed his hat. Bailey touched his. Captain Cy looked
+provokingly indifferent; he even whistled.
+
+“Good mornin', Mr. Atkins,” hailed the town clerk, raising his voice
+because of the whistle. “I'm proud to see you back among us, sir. Hope
+you and Alicia had a nice time out West. How is she--pretty smart?”
+
+Mr. Atkins smiled a bland, congressional smile. He approached the group
+by the fence and extended his hand.
+
+“Ah, Asaph!” he said; “it is you then? I thought so. And Bailey, too. It
+is certainly delightful to see you both again. Yes, my daughter is well,
+I thank you. She, like her father, is glad to be back in the old
+home nest after the round of hotel life and gayety which we
+have--er--recently undergone. Yes.”
+
+“Mr. Atkins,” said Bailey, glancing nervously at Captain Cy, who had
+stopped whistling and was regarding the Atkins hat and whiskers with an
+interested air, “I want to make you acquainted with your new neighbor.
+You used to know him when you was a boy, but--but--er--Mr. Atkins, this
+is Captain Cyrus Whittaker. Cy, this is Congressman Atkins. You've heard
+us speak of him.”
+
+The great man started.
+
+“Is it possible!” he exclaimed. “Is it possible that this is really my
+old playmate Cyrus Whittaker?”
+
+“Yup,” replied the captain calmly. “How are you, Heman? Fatter'n you
+used to be, ain't you? Washin'ton must agree with you.”
+
+Bailey and Asaph were scandalized. Mr. Atkins himself seemed a trifle
+taken aback. Comments on his personal appearance were not usual in
+Bayport. But he rallied bravely.
+
+“Well, well!” he cried. “Cyrus, I am delighted to welcome you back among
+us. I should scarcely have known you. You are older--yes, much older.”
+
+“Well, forty year more or less, added to what you started with, is apt
+to make a feller some older. Don't need any Normal School graduate to do
+that sum for us. I'm within seven or eight year of bein' as old as you
+are, Heman, and that's too antique to be sold for veal.”
+
+Mr. Atkins changed the subject.
+
+“I had heard of your return, Cyrus,” he said. “It gave me much pleasure
+to learn that you were rebuilding and--er--renovating the--er--the
+ancestral--er--”
+
+“The old home nest? Yup, I'm puttin' back a few feathers. Old birds like
+to roost comf'table. You've got a fairly roomy coop yourself.”
+
+“Hum! Isn't it--er--I should suppose you would find it rather expensive.
+Can you--do you--”
+
+“Yes, I can afford it, thank you. Maybe there'll be enough left in the
+stockin' to buy a few knickknacks for the yard. You can't tell.”
+
+The captain glanced at the iron dogs guarding the Atkins gate. His tone
+was rather sharp.
+
+“Yes, yes, certainly; certainly; of course. It gives me much pleasure to
+have you as a neighbor. I have always felt a fondness for the old place,
+even when you allowed it--even when it was most--er--run down, if you'll
+excuse the term. I always felt a liking for it and--”
+
+“Yes,” was the significant interruption. “I judged you must have, from
+what I heard.”
+
+This was steering dangerously close to the selectmen and the
+contemplated “sale for taxes.” The town clerk broke in nervously.
+
+“Mr. Atkins,” he said, “there's been consider'ble talk in town about
+who's to be teacher downstairs this comin' year. We've sort of chawed it
+over among us, but naturally we wanted your opinion. What do you think?
+I'm kind of leanin' toward the Dawes woman, myself.”
+
+The Congressman cleared his throat.
+
+“Far be it from me,” he said, “to speak except as a mere member of our
+little community, an ordinary member, but, AS such a member, with the
+welfare of my birthplace very near and dear to me, I confess that I
+am inclined to favor a modern teacher, one educated and trained in the
+institution provided for the purpose by our great commonwealth.
+The Dawes--er--person is undoubtedly worthy and capable in her way,
+but--well--er--we know that Wellmouth is not Bayport.”
+
+The reference to “our great commonwealth” had been given in the voice
+and the manner wont to thrill us at our Fourth-of-July celebrations and
+October “rallies.” Two of his hearers, at least, were visibly impressed.
+Asaph looked somewhat crestfallen, but he surrendered gracefully to
+superior wisdom.
+
+“That's so,” he said. “That's so, ain't it, Cy? I hadn't thought of
+that.”
+
+“What's so?” asked the captain.
+
+“Why--why, that Wellmouth ain't Bayport.”
+
+“No doubt of it. They're twenty miles apart.”
+
+“Yes. Well, I'm glad to hear you put it so conclusive, Mr. Atkins. I can
+see now that Phoebe wouldn't do. Hum! Yes.”
+
+Mr. Atkins buttoned the frock coat and turned to go.
+
+“Good day, gentlemen,” he said. “Cyrus, permit me once more to welcome
+you heartily to our village. We--my daughter and myself--will probably
+remain at home until the fall. I trust you will be a frequent caller.
+Run in on us at any time. Pray do not stand upon ceremony.”
+
+“No,” said Captain Cy shortly, “I won't.”
+
+“That's right. That's right. Good morning.”
+
+He walked briskly down the hill. The trio gazed after him.
+
+“Well,” sighed Mr. Tidditt. “That's settled. And it's a comfort to know
+'tis settled. Still I did kind of want Phoebe Dawes; but of course Heman
+knows best.”
+
+“Course he knows best!” snapped Bailey. “Ain't he the biggest gun in
+this county, pretty nigh? I'd like to know who is if he ain't. The
+committee 'll call the Normal School girl now, and a good thing, too.”
+
+Captain Cy was still gazing at the dignified form of the “biggest gun in
+the county.”
+
+“Let's see,” he asked. “Who's on the school committee? Eben Salters, of
+course, and--”
+
+“Yes. Eben's chairman and he'll vote Phoebe, anyhow; he's that
+pig-headed that nobody--not even a United States Representative--could
+change him. But Darius Ellis 'll be for Heman's way and so 'll Lemuel
+Myrick.
+
+“Lemuel Myrick? Lem Myrick, the painter?”
+
+“Sartin. There ain't but one Myrick in town.”
+
+“Hum!” murmured the captain and was silent for some minutes.
+
+The school committee met on the following Wednesday evening. On Thursday
+morning a startling rumor spread throughout Bayport. Phoebe Dawes had
+been called, by a vote of two to one, to teach the downstairs school.
+Asaph, aghast, rushed out of Simmons's store and up to the hill to the
+Cy Whittaker place. He found Captain Cy in the front yard. Mr. Myrick,
+school committeeman and house painter, was with him.
+
+“Hello, Ase!” hailed the captain. “What's the matter? Hasn't the tide
+come in this mornin'?”
+
+Asaph, somewhat embarrassed by the presence of Mr. Myrick, hesitated
+over his news. Lemuel came to his rescue.
+
+“Ase has just heard that we called Phoebe,” he said. “What of it? I
+voted for her, and I ain't ashamed of it.”
+
+“But--but Mr. Atkins, he--”
+
+“Well, Heman ain't on the committee, is he? I vote the way I think
+right, and no one in this town can change me. Anyway,” he added, “I'm
+going to resign next spring. Yes, Cap'n Whittaker, I think three coats
+of white 'll do on the sides here.”
+
+“Lem's goin' to do my paintin' jobs,” explained Captain Cy. “His price
+was a little higher than some of the other fellers, but I like his
+work.”
+
+Mr. Tidditt pondered deeply until dinner time. Then he cornered the
+captain behind the Bangs barn and spoke with conviction.
+
+“Whit,” he said, “you're the one responsible for the committee's hirin'
+Phoebe Dawes. You offered Lem the paintin' job if he'd vote for her.
+What did you do it for? You don't know her, do you?”
+
+“Never set eyes on her in my life.”
+
+“Then--then--You heard Heman say he wanted the other one. What made you
+do it?”
+
+Captain Cy grinned.
+
+“Ase,” he said, “I've always been a great hand for tryin' experiments.
+Had one of my cooks aboard put raisins in the flapjacks once, just to
+see what they tasted like. I judged Heman had had his own way in this
+town for thirty odd year. I kind of wanted to see what would happen if
+he didn't have it.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+BAILEY BANGS'S EXPERIMENT
+
+
+Lemuel Myrick's painting jobs have the quality so prized by our village
+small boys in the species of candy called “jaw breakers,” namely, that
+of “lasting long.” But even Lem must finish sometime or other and, late
+in July, the Cy Whittaker place was ready for occupancy. The pictures
+were in their places on the walls, the old-fashioned furniture filled
+the rooms, there was even a pile of old magazines, back numbers of
+Godey's Lady's Book, on the shelf in the sitting room closet.
+
+Then, when Captain Cy had notified Mrs. Bangs that the perfect boarding
+house would shelter him no longer than the coming week, a new problem
+arose.
+
+“Whit,” said Asaph earnestly, “you've sartin made the place rise up out
+of its tomb; you have so. It's a miracle, pretty nigh, and I cal'late
+it must have cost a heap, but you've done it--all but the old folks
+themselves. You can't raise them up, Cy; money won't do that. And you
+can't live in this great house all alone. Who's goin' to cook for you,
+and sweep and dust, and swab decks, and one thing a'nother? You'll have
+to have a housekeeper, as I told you a spell ago. Have you done any
+thinkin' about that?”
+
+And the captain, taking his pipe from his lips, stared blankly at his
+friend, and answered:
+
+“By the big dipper, Ase, I ain't! I remember we did mention it, but I've
+been so busy gettin' this craft off the ways that I forgot all about
+it.”
+
+The discussion which followed Mr. Tidditt's reminder was long and
+serious. Asaph and Bailey Bangs racked their brains and offered numerous
+suggestions, but the majority of these were not favorably received.
+
+“There's Matildy Tripp,” said Bailey. “She'd like the job, I'm sartin.
+She's a widow, too, and she's had experience keepin' house along of
+Tobias, him that was her husband. But, if you do hire her, don't let
+Ketury know I hinted at it, 'cause we're goin' to lose one boarder
+when you quit, and that's too many, 'cordin' to the old lady's way of
+thinkin'.”
+
+“You can keep Matildy, for all me,” replied the captain decidedly.
+“Come-Outer religion's all right, for those that have that kind of
+appetite, but havin' it passed to me three times a day, same as I've
+had it at your house, is enough; I don't hanker to have it warmed over
+between meals. If I shipped Matildy aboard here she and the Reverend
+Daniels would stand over me, watch and watch, till I was converted or
+crazy, one or the other.”
+
+“Well, there's Angie. She--”
+
+“Angie!” sniffed Mr. Tidditt. “Stop your jokin', Bailey. This is a
+serious matter.”
+
+“I wan't jokin'. What--”
+
+“There! there! boys,” interrupted the captain; “don't fight. Bailey
+didn't mean to joke, Ase; he's full of what the papers call 'unconscious
+humor.' I'll give in that Angie is about as serious a matter as I can
+think of without settin' down to rest. Humph! so fur we haven't gained
+any knots to speak of. Any more candidates on your mind?”
+
+More possibilities were mentioned, but none of them seemed to fill the
+bill. The conference broke up without arriving at a decision. Mr. Bangs
+and the town clerk walked down the hill together.
+
+“Do you know, Bailey,” said Asaph, “the way I look at it, this pickin'
+out a housekeeper for Whit ain't any common job. It's somethin' to think
+over. Cy's a restless critter; been cruisin' hither and yon all his
+life. I'm sort of scared that he'll get tired of Bayport and quit if
+things here don't go to suit him. Now if a real good nice woman--a nice
+LOOKIN' woman, say--was to keep house for him it--it--”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“Well, I mean--that is, don't you s'pose if some such woman as that
+was to be found for the job he might in time come to like her
+and--and--er--”
+
+“Ase Tidditt, what are you drivin' at?”
+
+“Why, I mean he might come to marry her; there! Then he'd be contented
+to settle down to home and stay put. What do you think of the idea?”
+
+“Think of it? I think it's the dumdest foolishness ever I heard. I
+declare if the very mention of a woman to some of you old baches
+don't make your heads soften up like a jellyfish in the sun! Ain't Cy
+Whittaker got money? Ain't he got a nice home? Ain't he happy?”
+
+“Yes, he is now, I s'pose, but--”
+
+“WELL, then! And you want him to get married! What do you know about
+marryin'? Never tried it, have you?”
+
+“Course I ain't! You know I ain't.”
+
+“All right. Then I'd keep quiet about such things, if I was you.”
+
+“You needn't fly up like a settin' hen. Everybody's wife ain't--”
+
+He stopped in the middle of the sentence.
+
+“What's that?” demanded his companion, sharply.
+
+“Nothin'; nothin'. _I_ don't care; I was only tryin' to fix things
+comf'table for Whit. Has Heman said anything about the harbor
+appropriation sence he's been home? I haven't heard of it if he has.”
+
+Mr. Bangs's answer was a grunt, signifying a negative. Congressman
+Atkins had been, since his return to Bayport, exceedingly noncommittal
+concerning the appropriation. To Tad Simpson and a very few chosen
+lieutenants and intimates he had said that he hoped to get it; that was
+all. This was a disquieting change of attitude, for, at the beginning
+of the term just passed, he had affirmed that he was GOING to get it.
+However, as Mr. Simpson reassuringly said: “The job's in as good hands
+as can be, so what's the use of OUR worryin'?”
+
+Bailey Bangs certainly was not troubled on that score; but the town
+clerk's proposal that Captain Cy be provided with a suitable wife did
+worry him. Bailey was so very much married himself and had such decided,
+though unspoken, views concerning matrimony that such a proposal seemed
+to him lunacy, pure and simple. He had liked and admired his friend
+“Whit” in the old days, when the latter led them into all sorts of
+boyish scrapes; now he regarded him with a liking that was close
+to worship. The captain was so jolly and outspoken; so brave and
+independent--witness his crossing of the great Atkins in the matter of
+the downstairs teacher. That was a reckless piece of folly which would,
+doubtless, be rewarded after its kind, but Bailey, though he professed
+to condemn it, secretly wished he had the pluck to dare such things. As
+it was, he didn't dare contradict Keturah.
+
+With the exception of one voyage as cabin boy to New Orleans, a voyage
+which convinced him that he was not meant for a seaman, Mr. Bangs had
+never been farther from his native village than Boston. Captain Cy had
+been almost everywhere and seen almost everything. He could spin yarns
+that beat the serial stories in the patent inside of the Bayport Breeze
+all hollow. Bailey had figured that, when the “fixin' over” was ended,
+the Cy Whittaker place would be for him a delightful haven of refuge,
+where he could put his boots on the furniture, smoke until dizzy without
+being pounced upon, be entertained and thrilled with tales of adventure
+afloat and ashore, and even express his own opinion, when he had any,
+with the voice and lung power of a free-born American citizen.
+
+And now Asaph Tidditt, who should know better, even though he was a
+bachelor, wanted to bring a wife into this paradise; not a paid domestic
+who could be silenced, or discharged, if she became a nuisance, but a
+WIFE! Bailey guessed not; not if he could prevent it.
+
+So he lay awake nights thinking of possible housekeepers for Captain Cy,
+and carefully rejecting all those possessing dangerous attractions of
+any kind. Each morning, after breakfast, he ran over the list with the
+captain, taking care that Asaph was not present. Captain Cy, who was
+very busy with the finishing touches at the new old house, wearied on
+the third morning.
+
+“There, there, Bailey!” he said. “Don't bother me now. I've got other
+things on my mind. How do I know who all these women folks are you're
+stringing off to me? Let me alone, do.”
+
+“But you must have a housekeeper, Cy. You'll move in Monday and you
+won't have nobody to--”
+
+“Oh, dry up! I want to think who I must see this morning. There's Lem
+and old lady Penniman, and--”
+
+“But the housekeeper, Cy! Don't you see--”
+
+“Hire one yourself, then. You know 'em; I don't.”
+
+“Hey? Hire one myself? Do you mean you'll leave it in my hands?”
+
+“Yes, yes! I guess so. Run along, that's a good feller.”
+
+He departed hurriedly. Mr. Bangs scratched his head. A weighty
+responsibility had been laid upon him.
+
+Monday morning after breakfast Captain Cy's trunk was put aboard
+the depot wagon, and Dan'l Webster drew it to its owner's home. The
+farewells at the perfect boarding house were affecting. Mrs. Tripp said
+that she had spoken to the Reverend Mr. Daniels, and he would be sure to
+call the very first thing. Keturah affirmed that the captain's stay had
+been a real pleasure.
+
+“You never find fault, Cap'n Whittaker,” she said. “You're such a manly
+man, if you'll excuse my sayin' so. I only wish there was more like
+you,” with a significant glance at her husband. As for Miss Phinney,
+she might have been saying good-by yet if the captain had not excused
+himself.
+
+Asaph accompanied his friend to the house on the hill. The trunk was
+unloaded from the wagon and carried into the bedroom on the first floor,
+the room which had been Captain Cy's so long ago. Gabe shrieked at Dan'l
+Webster, and the depot wagon crawled away toward the upper road.
+
+“Got to meet the up train,” grumbled the driver. “Not that anybody ever
+comes on it, but I cal'late I'm s'posed to be there. Be more talk than a
+little if I wan't. Git dap, Dan'l! you're slower'n the moral law.”
+
+“So you're goin' to do your own cookin' for a spell, Cy?” observed
+Asaph, a half hour later, “Well, I guess that's a good idea, till you
+can find the right housekeeper. I ain't been able to think of one that
+would suit you yet.”
+
+“Nor I, either. Neither's Bailey, I judge, though for a while he was as
+full of suggestions as a pine grove is of woodticks. He started to say
+somethin' about it to me last night, but Ketury hove in sight and yanked
+him off to prayer meetin'.”
+
+“Yes, I know. She cal'lates to get him into heaven somehow.”
+
+“I guess 'twouldn't BE heaven for her unless he was round to pick at.
+There he comes now. How'd he get out of wipin' dishes?”
+
+Mr. Bangs strolled into the yard.
+
+“Hello!” he hailed. “I was on my way to Simmons's on an errand and I
+thought I'd stop in a minute. Got somethin' to tell you, Whit.”
+
+“All right. Overboard with it! It won't keep long this hot weather.”
+
+Bailey smiled knowingly. “Didn't I hear the up train whistle as I was
+comin' along?” he asked. “Seems to me I did. Yes; well, if I ain't
+mistaken somebody's comin' on that train. Somebody for you, Cy
+Whittaker.”
+
+“Somebody for ME?”
+
+“Um--hum! I can gen'rally be depended on, I cal'late, and when you says
+to me: 'Bailey, you get me a housekeeper,' I didn't lose much time. I
+got her.”
+
+Mr. Tidditt gasped.
+
+“GOT her?” he repeated. “Got who? Got what? Bailey Bangs, what in the
+world have--”
+
+“Belay, Ase!” ordered Captain Cy. “Bailey, what are you givin' us?”
+
+“Givin' you a housekeeper, and a good one, too, I shouldn't wonder. She
+may not be one of them ten-thousand-dollar prize museum beauties,” with
+a scornful wink at Asaph, “but if what I hear's true she can keep house.
+Anyhow she's kept one for forty odd year. Her name's Deborah Beasley,
+she's a widow over to East Trumet, and if I don't miss my guess, she's
+in the depot wagon now headed in this direction.”
+
+Captain Cy whistled. Mr. Tidditt was too much surprised to do even that.
+
+“I was speakin' to the feller that drives the candy cart,” continued
+Bailey, “and I asked him if he'd run acrost anybody, durin' his trips
+'round the country, who'd be likely to hire out for a housekeeper. He
+thought a spell and then named over some. Among 'em was this Beasley
+one. I asked some more questions and, the answers bein' satisfactory to
+ME, though they might not be to some folks--” another derisive wink at
+Asaph--“I set down and wrote her, tellin' what you'd pay, Cy, what she'd
+have to do, and when she'd have to come. Saturday night I got a letter,
+sayin' terms was all right, and she'd be on hand by this mornin's train.
+Course she's only on trial for a month, but you had to have SOMEBODY,
+and the candy-cart feller said--”
+
+The town clerk slapped his knee.
+
+“Debby Beasley!” he cried. “I know who she is! I've got a cousin in
+Trumet. Debby Beasley! Aunt Debby, they call her. Why! she's old enough
+to be Methusalem's grandmarm, and--”
+
+“If I recollect right,” interrupted Bailey, with dignity, “Cy never said
+he wanted a YOUNG woman--a frivolous, giddy critter, always riggin' up
+and chasin' the fellers. He wanted a sot, sober housekeeper.”
+
+“Godfrey! Aunt Debby ain't frivolous! She couldn't chase a lame
+clam--and catch it. And DEEF! Godfrey--scissors! she's deefer 'n one of
+them cast-iron Newfoundlands in Heman's yard! Do you mean to say, Bailey
+Bangs, that you went ahead, on your own hook, and hired that old relic
+to--”
+
+“I did. And I had my authority, didn't I, Whit? You told me you'd leave
+it in my hands, now didn't you?”
+
+The captain smiled somewhat ruefully, and scratched his head. “Why,
+to be honest, Bailey, I believe I did,” he admitted. “Still, I hardly
+expected--Humph! is she deef, as Ase says?”
+
+“I understand she's a little mite hard of hearin',” replied Mr. Bangs,
+with dignity; “but that ain't any drawback, the way I look at it. Fact
+is, I'd call it an advantage, but you folks seem to be hard to please.
+I ruther imagined you'd thank me for gettin' her, but I s'pose that was
+too much to expect. All right, pitch her out! Don't mind MY feelin's!
+Poor homeless critter comin' to--”
+
+“Homeless!” repeated Asaph. “What's that got to do with it? Cy ain't
+runnin' the Old Woman's Home.”
+
+“Well, well!” observed the captain resignedly. “There's no use in rowin'
+about what can't be helped. Bailey says he shipped her for a month's
+trial, and here comes the depot wagon now. That's her on the aft thwart,
+I judge. She AIN'T what you'd call a spring pullet, is she!”
+
+She certainly was not. The occupant of the depot wagon's rear seat was a
+thin, not to say scraggy, female, wearing a black, beflowered bonnet and
+a black gown. A black knit shawl was draped about her shoulders and she
+wore spectacles.
+
+“Whoa!” commanded Mr. Lumley, piloting the depot wagon to the side door
+of the Whittaker house. Dan'l Webster came to anchor immediately. Gabe
+turned and addressed his passenger.
+
+“Here we be!” he shouted.
+
+“Hey?” observed the lady in black.
+
+“Here--we--be!” repeated Gabe, raising his voice.
+
+“See? See what?”
+
+“Oh, heavens to Betsey! I'm gettin' the croup from howlin'.
+I--say--HERE--WE--BE! GET OUT!”
+
+He accompanied the final bellow with an expressive pantomime indicating
+that the passenger was expected to alight. She seemed to understand,
+for she opened the door of the carriage and slowly descended. Mr. Bangs
+advanced to meet her.
+
+“How d'ye do, Mrs. Beasley!” he said. “Glad to see you all safe and
+sound.”
+
+Mrs. Beasley shook his hand; hers were covered, as far as the knuckles,
+by black mitts.
+
+“How d'ye do, Cap'n Whittaker?” she said, in a shrill voice. “You pretty
+smart?”
+
+Bailey hastened to explain.
+
+“I ain't Cap'n Whittaker,” he roared. “I'm Bailey Bangs, the one that
+wrote to you.”
+
+“Hey?”
+
+Mr. Lumley and Asaph chuckled. Bailey colored and tried again.
+
+“I ain't the cap'n,” he whooped. “Here he is--here!”
+
+He led her over to her prospective employer and tapped the latter on the
+chest.
+
+“How d'ye do, sir?” said the housekeeper. “I don't know's I just caught
+your name.”
+
+In five minutes or so the situation was made reasonably clear. Mrs.
+Beasley then demanded her trunk and carpet bag. The grinning Lumley bore
+them into the house. Then he drove away, still grinning. Bailey looked
+fearfully at Captain Cy.
+
+“She IS kind of hard of hearin', ain't she?” he said reluctantly. “You
+remember I said she was.”
+
+The captain nodded.
+
+“Yes,” he answered, “you're a truth-tellin' chap, Bailey, I'll say that
+for you. You don't exaggerate your statements.”
+
+“Hard of hearin'!” snapped Mr. Tidditt. “If the last trump ain't a steam
+whistle she'll miss Judgment Day. I'll stop into Simmons's on my way
+along and buy you a bottle of throat balsam, Cy; you're goin' to need
+it.”
+
+The captain needed more than throat balsam during the fortnight which
+followed. The widow Beasley's deafness was not her only failing. In fact
+she was altogether a failure, so far as her housekeeping was concerned.
+She could cook, after a fashion, but the fashion was so limited that
+even the bill of fare at the perfect boarding house looked tempting in
+retrospect.
+
+“Baked beans again, Cy!” exclaimed Asaph, dropping in one evening after
+supper. “'Tain't Saturday night so soon, is it?”
+
+“No,” was the dismal rejoinder. “It's Tuesday, if my almanac ain't out
+of joint. But we had beans Saturday and they ain't all gone yet, so I
+presume we'll have 'em till the last one's swallowed. Aunt Debby's got
+what the piece in the Reader used to call a 'frugal mind.' She don't
+intend to waste anything. Last Thursday I spunked up courage enough to
+yell for salt fish and potatoes--fixed up with pork scraps, you know,
+same's we used to have when I was a boy. We had 'em all right, and if
+beans of a Saturday hadn't been part of her religion we'd be warmin' 'em
+up yet. I took in a cat for company 'tother day, but the critter's
+run away. To see it look at the beans in its saucer and then at me was
+pitiful; I felt like handin' myself over to the Cruelty to Animals'
+folks.”
+
+“Is she neat?” inquired Mr. Tidditt.
+
+“I don't know. I guess so--on the installment plan. It takes her a week
+to scrub up the kitchen, and then one end of it is so dirty she has to
+begin again. Consequently the dust is so thick in the rest of the house
+that I can see my tracks. If 'twan't so late in the season I'd plant
+garden stuff in the parlor--nice soil and lots of shade, with the
+curtains down.”
+
+From the rooms in the rear came the words of a gospel hymn sung in a
+tremulous soprano and at concert pitch.
+
+“Music with my meals, just like a high-toned restaurant,” commented
+Captain Cy.
+
+“But what makes her sing so everlastin' LOUD?”
+
+“Can't hear herself if she don't. I could stand her deefness, because
+that's an affliction and we may all come to it; but--”
+
+The housekeeper, still singing, entered the room and planted herself in
+a chair.
+
+“Good evenin', Mr. Tidditt,” she said, smiling genially. “Nice weather
+we've been havin'.”
+
+Asaph nodded.
+
+“Sociable critter, ain't she!” observed the captain. “Always willin' to
+help entertain. Comes and sets up with me till bedtime. Tells about
+her family troubles. Preaches about her niece out West, and how set the
+niece and the rest of the Western relations are to have her make 'em a
+visit. I told her she better go--I thought 'twould do her good. I know
+'twould help ME consider'ble to see her start.
+
+“She's got so now she finds fault with my neckties,” he added, “says I
+must be careful and not get my feet wet. Picks out what I ought to wear
+so's I won't get cold. She'll adopt me pretty soon. Oh, it's all right!
+She can't hear what you say. Are your dishes done?” he shrieked, turning
+to the old lady.
+
+“One? One what?” inquired Mrs. Beasley.
+
+“They won't BE done till you go, Ase,” continued the master of the
+house. “She'll stay with us till the last gun fires. T'other day
+Angie Phinney called and I turned Debby loose on her. I didn't believe
+anything could wear out Angie's talkin' machinery, but she did it.
+Angeline stayed twenty minutes and then quit, hoarse as a crow.”
+
+Here the widow joined in the conversation, evidently under the
+impression that nothing had been said since she last spoke. Continuing
+her favorable comments on the weather she observed that she was glad
+there was so little fog, because fog was hard for folks with “neuralgy
+pains.” Her brother's wife's cousin had “neuralgy” for years, and
+she described his sufferings with enthusiasm and infinite detail. Mr.
+Tidditt answered her questions verbally at first; later by nods and
+shakes of the head. Captain Cy fidgeted in his chair.
+
+“Come on outdoor, Ase,” he said at last. “No use to wait till she runs
+down, 'cause she's a self-winder, guaranteed to keep goin' for a year.
+Good-night!” he shouted, addressing Mrs. Beasley, and heading for the
+door.
+
+“Where you goin'?” asked the old lady.
+
+“No. Yes. Who said so? Hooray! Three cheers for Gen'ral Scott! Come on,
+Ase!” And the captain, seizing his friend by the arm, dragged him into
+the open air, and slammed the door.
+
+“Are you crazy?” demanded the astonished town clerk. “What makes you
+talk like that?”
+
+“Might as well. She wouldn't understand it any better if 'twas
+Scripture, and it saves brain work. The only satisfaction I get is
+bein' able to give my opinion of her and the grub without hurtin' her
+feelin's. If I called her a wooden-headed jumpin' jack she'd only smile
+and say No, she didn't think 'twas goin' to rain, or somethin' just as
+brilliant.”
+
+“Well, why don't you give her her walkin' papers?”
+
+“I shall, when her month's up.”
+
+“I wouldn't wait no month. I'd heave her overboard to-night. You hear
+ME!”
+
+Captain Cy shook his head.
+
+“I can't, very well,” he replied. “I hate to make her feel TOO bad. When
+the month's over I'll have some excuse ready, maybe. The joke of it is
+that she don't really need to work out. She's got some money of her
+own, owns cranberry swamps and I don't know what all. Says she took up
+Bailey's offer 'cause she cal'lated I'd be company for her. I had to
+laugh, even in the face of those beans, when she said that.”
+
+“Humph! if I don't tell Bailey what I think of him, then--”
+
+“No, no! Don't you say a word to Bailey. It's principally on his account
+that I'm tryin' to stick it out for the month. Bailey did his best; he
+thought he was helpin'. And he feels dreadfully because she's so deef.
+Only yesterday he asked me if I believed there was anything made that
+would fix her up and make it more comfortable for me. I could have
+prescribed a shotgun, but I didn't. You see, he thinks her deefness
+is the only trouble; I haven't told him the rest, and don't you do it,
+either. Bailey's a good-hearted chap.”
+
+“Humph! his heart may be good, but his head's goin' to seed. I'll keep
+quiet if 'twill please you, though.”
+
+“Yes. And, see here, Ase! I don't care to be the laughin' stock of
+Bayport. If any of the folks ask you how I like my new housekeeper, you
+tell 'em there's nothin' like her anywhere. That's no lie.”
+
+So Mrs. Beasley stayed on at the Whittaker place and, thanks to Mr.
+Tidditt, the general opinion of inquisitive Bayport was that the new
+housekeeper was a grand success. Only Captain Cy and Asaph knew the
+whole truth, and Mr. Bangs a part. That part, Deborah's deafness,
+troubled him not a little and he thought much concerning it. As a result
+of this thinking he wrote a letter to a relative in Boston. The answer
+to this letter pleased him and he wrote again.
+
+One afternoon, during the third week of Mrs. Beasley's stay, Asaph
+called and found Captain Cy in the sitting room, reading the Breeze. The
+captain urged his friend to remain and have supper. “We've run out of
+beans, Ase,” he explained, “and are just startin' in on a course of
+boiled cod. Do stay and eat a lot; then there won't be so much to warm
+over.”
+
+Mr. Tidditt accepted the invitation, also a section of the Breeze. While
+they were reading they heard the back door slam.
+
+“It's the graven image,” explained the captain. “She's been on a
+cruise down town somewheres. Be a lot of sore throats in that direction
+to-morrow mornin'.”
+
+The town clerk looked up.
+
+“There now!” he exclaimed. “I believe 'twas her I saw walkin' with
+Bailey a spell ago. I thought so, but I didn't have my specs and I wan't
+sure.”
+
+“With Bailey, hey? Humph! this is serious. Hope Ketury didn't see 'em.
+We mustn't have any scandal.”
+
+The housekeeper entered the dining room. She was singing “Beulah Land,”
+ but her tone was more subdued than usual. They heard her setting the
+table.
+
+“How's she gettin' along?” asked Asaph.
+
+“Progressin' backwards, same as ever. She's no better, thank you, and
+the doctor's given up hopes.”
+
+“When you goin' to tell her she can clear out?”
+
+“What?” Captain Cy had returned to his paper and did not hear the
+question.
+
+“I say when is she goin' to be bounced? Deefness ain't catchin', is it?”
+
+“I wouldn't wonder if it might be. If 'tis, mine ought to be developin'
+fast. What makes her so still all at once?”
+
+“Gone to the kitchen, I guess. Wonder she hasn't sailed in and set down
+with us. Old chromo! You must be glad her month's most up?”
+
+Asaph proceeded to give his opinion of the housekeeper, raising his
+voice almost to a howl, as his indignation grew. If Mrs. Beasley's ears
+had been ordinary ones she might have heard the unflattering description
+in the kitchen; as it was Mr. Tidditt felt no fear.
+
+“Comin' here so's you could be company for her! The idea! Good to
+herself, ain't she! Godfrey scissors! And Bailey was fool enough to--”
+
+“There, there! Don't let it worry you, Ase. I've about decided what
+to say when I let her go. I'll tell her she is gettin' too old to be
+slavin' herself to death. You see, I don't want to make the old critter
+cry, nor I don't want her to get mad. Judgin' by the way she used to
+coax the cat outdoors with the broom handle she's got somethin' of a
+temper when she gets started. I'll give her an extry month's wages,
+and--”
+
+“You will, hey? You WILL?”
+
+The interruption came from behind the partially closed dining-room door.
+Mr. Tidditt sank back in his chair. Captain Cy sprang from his and threw
+the door wide open. Behind it crouched Mrs. Deborah Beasley. Her eyes
+snapped behind her spectacles, her lean form was trembling all over, and
+in her right hand she held a mammoth trumpet, the smaller end of which
+was connected with her ear.
+
+“You will, hey?” she screamed, brandishing her left fist, but still
+keeping the ear trumpet in place with her right. “You WILL? Well, I
+don't want none of your miser'ble money! Land knows how you made it,
+anyhow, and I wouldn't soil my hands with it. After all I've put up
+with, and the way I've done my work, and the things I've had to eat,
+and--and--”
+
+She paused for breath. Captain Cy scratched his chin. Asaph, gazing
+open-mouthed at the trumpet, stirred in his chair. Mrs. Beasley swooped
+down upon him like a gull on a minnow.
+
+“And you!” she shrieked. “You! a miserable little, good-for-nothin',
+lazy, ridiculous, dried-up-- . . . Oo--oo--OH! You call yourself a town
+clerk! YOU do! I--I wouldn't have you clerk for a hen house! I'm an old
+chromo, be I? Yes! that's nice talk, ain't it, to a woman old enough
+to be--that is--er--er--'most as old as you be! You sneakin',
+story-tellin', little, fat THING, you! You--oh, I can't lay my tongue to
+words to tell you WHAT you are.”
+
+“You're doin' pretty well, seems to me,” observed Captain Cy dryly. “I
+wouldn't be discouraged if I was you.”
+
+The only effect of this remark was to turn the wordy torrent in his
+direction. The captain bore it for a while; then he rose to his feet and
+commanded silence.
+
+“That's enough! Stop it!” he ordered, and, strange to say, Mrs. Beasley
+did stop. “I'm sorry, Debby,” he went on, “but you had no business to be
+listenin' even if--” and he smiled grimly, “you have got a new fog horn
+to hear with. You can go and pack your things as soon as you want to. I
+made up my mind the first day you come that you and me wouldn't cruise
+together long, and this only shortens the trip by a week or so. I'll pay
+you for this month and for the next, and I guess, when you come to think
+it over, you'll be willin' to risk soilin' your hands with the money.
+It's your own fault if anybody knows that you didn't leave of your own
+accord. _I_ shan't tell, and I'll see that Tidditt doesn't. Now trot!
+Ase and I'll get supper ourselves.”
+
+It was evident that the ex-housekeeper had much more which she would
+have liked to say. But there was that in her late employer's manner
+which caused her to forbear. She slammed out of the room, and they heard
+her banging things about on the floor above.
+
+“But where--WHERE,” repeated Mr. Tidditt, over and over, “did she get
+that trumpet?”
+
+The puzzle was solved soon after, when Bailey Bangs entered the house in
+a high state of excitement.
+
+“Well,” he demanded, expectantly. “Did they help her? Has anything
+happened?”
+
+“HAPPENED!” began Asaph, but Captain Cy silenced him by a wink.
+
+“Yes,” answered the captain; “something's happened. Why?”
+
+“Hurrah! I thought 'twould. She can hear better, can't she?”
+
+“Yes, I guess it's safe to say she can.”
+
+“Good! You can thank me for it. When I see how dreadful deef she was I
+wrote my cousin Eddie T, who's an optician up to Boston--you know him,
+Ase--and I says: 'Ed, you know what's good for folks who can't see?
+Ain't there nothin',' says I, 'that'll help them who can't hear? How
+about ear trumpets?' And Ed wrote that an ear trumpet would probably
+help some, but why didn't I try a pair of them patent fixin's that are
+made to put inside deef people's ears? He'd known of cases where they
+helped a lot. So I sent for a pair, and the biggest ear trumpet made,
+besides. And when I met Debby to-day I give 'em to her and told her to
+put the patent things IN her ears and couple on the trumpet outside
+'em. And not to say nothin' to you, but just surprise you. And it did
+surprise you, didn't it?”
+
+The wrathful Mr. Tidditt could wait no longer. He burst into a vivid
+description of the “surprise.” Bailey was aghast. Captain Cy laughed
+until his face was purple.
+
+“I declare, Cy!” exclaimed the dejected purchaser of the “ear fixin's”
+ and the trumpet. “I do declare I'm awful sorry! if you'd only told me
+she was no good I'd have let her alone; but I thought 'twas just the
+deefness. I--I--”
+
+“I know, Bailey; you meant well, like the layin'-on-of-hands doctor who
+rubbed the rheumatic man's wooden leg. All right; _I_ forgive you. 'Twas
+worth it all to see Asaph's face when Marm Beasley was complimentin'
+him. Ha! ha! Oh, dear me! I've laughed till I'm sore. But there's one
+thing I SHOULD like to do, if you don't mind: I should like to pick out
+my next housekeeper myself.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+A FRONT-DOOR CALLER
+
+
+Mrs. Beasley departed next morning, taking with her the extra month's
+wages, in spite of fervid avowals that she wouldn't touch a cent of
+it. On the way to the depot she favored Mr. Lumley with sundry hints
+concerning the reasons for her departure. She “couldn't stand it no
+longer”; if folks only knew what she'd had to put up with she cal'lated
+they'd be some surprised; she could “tell a few things” if she wanted
+to, and so on. Incidentally she was kind of glad she didn't like the
+place, because now she cal'lated she should go West and visit her niece;
+they'd been wanting her to come for so long.
+
+Gabe was much interested and repeated the monologue, with imaginative
+additions, to the depot master, who, in turn, repeated it to his wife
+when he went home to dinner. That lady attended sewing circle in the
+afternoon. Next day a large share of Bayport's conversation dealt with
+the housekeeper's leaving and her reasons therefor. The reasons
+differed widely, according to the portion of the town in which they were
+discussed, but it was the general opinion that the whole affair was not
+creditable to Captain Whittaker.
+
+Only at the perfect boarding house was the captain upheld. Miss Phinney
+declared that she knew he had made a mistake as soon as she heard the
+Beasley woman talk; nobody else, so Angeline declared, could “get a word
+in edgeways.” Mrs. Tripp sighed and affirmed that going out of town for
+a woman to do housework was ridiculous on the face of it; there were
+plenty of Bayport ladies, women of capability and sound in their
+religious views, who might be hired if they were approached in the right
+way. Keturah gave, as her opinion, that if the captain knew when he was
+well off, he would “take his meals out.” Asaph snorted and intimated
+that that Debby Beasley wasn't fit to “keep house in a pigsty, and
+anybody but a born gump would have known it.” Bailey, the “born gump,”
+ said nothing, but looked appealingly at his chum.
+
+As for Captain Cy, he did not take the trouble to affirm or deny the
+rumors. Peace and quiet dominated the Whittaker house for the first time
+in three weeks and its owner was happier. He cooked his own food and
+washed his own dishes. The runaway cat ventured to return, found other
+viands than beans in its saucer, and decided to remain, purring thankful
+contentment. The captain made his own bed, after a fashion, when he was
+ready to occupy it, but he was conscious that it might be better made.
+He refused, however, to spend his time in sweeping and dusting, and
+the dust continued to accumulate on the carpets and furniture. This
+condition of affairs troubled him, but he kept his own counsel. Asaph
+and Bailey called often, but they offered no more suggestions as to
+hiring a housekeeper. Mr. Tidditt might have done so, but the captain
+gave him no encouragement. Mr. Bangs, recent humiliation fresh in his
+mind, would as soon have suggested setting the house on fire.
+
+One evening Asaph happened in, on his way to Simmons's. He desired
+the captain to accompany him to that gathering place of the wise and
+talkative. Captain Cy was in the sitting room, a sheet of note paper in
+his hand. The town clerk entered without ceremony and tossed his hat on
+the sofa.
+
+“Evenin', Ase,” observed the captain, folding the sheet of paper and
+putting it into his pocket. “Glad you come. Sit down. I wanted to ask
+you somethin'.”
+
+“All right! Here I be. Heave ahead and ask.”
+
+Captain Cy puffed at his pipe. He seemed about to speak and then to
+think better of it, for he crossed his legs and smoked on in silence,
+gazing at the nickel work of the “base-burner” stove. It was badly in
+need of polishing.
+
+“Well?” inquired Asaph, with impatient sarcasm. “Thinkin' of askin' me
+to build a fire for you, was you? Nobody else but you would have set up
+a stove in summer time, anyhow.”
+
+“Hey? No, you needn't start a fire yet awhile. That necktie of yours 'll
+keep us warm till fall, I shouldn't wonder. New one, ain't it? Where'd
+you get it?”
+
+Mr. Tidditt was wearing a crocheted scarf of a brilliant crimson hue,
+particularly becoming to his complexion. The complexion now brightened
+until it was almost a match for the tie.
+
+“Oh!” he said, with elaborate indifference. “That? Yes, it's new.
+Yesterday was my birthday, and Matildy Tripp she knew I needed a
+necktie, so she give me this one.”
+
+“Oh! One she knit purpose for you, then? Dear me! Look out, Ase. Widow
+women are dangerous, they say; presents are one of the first baits they
+heave out.”
+
+“Don't be foolish, now! I couldn't chuck it back at her, could I? That
+would be pretty manners. You needn't talk about widders--not after
+Debby! Ho! ho!”
+
+Captain Cy chuckled. Then he suddenly became serious.
+
+“Ase,” he said, “you remember the time when the Howes folks had this
+house? Course you do. Yes; well, was there any of their relations here
+with 'em? A--a cousin, or somethin'?”
+
+“No, not as I recollect. Yes, there was, too, come to think. A third
+cousin, Mary Thayer her name was. I THINK she was a third cousin of
+Betsy Howes, Seth Howes's second wife. Betsy's name was Ginn afore
+she married, and the Ginns was related on their ma's side to a
+Richards--Emily Richards, I think 'twas--and Emily married a Thayer.
+Would that make this Mary a third cousin? Now let's see; Sarah Jane
+Ginn, she had an aunt who kept a boardin' house in Harniss. I remember
+that, 'count of her sellin' my Uncle Bije a pig. Seems to me 'twas a
+pig, but I ain't sure that it mightn't have been a settin' of Plymouth
+Rock hens' eggs. Anyhow, Uncle Bije KEPT hens, because I remember one
+time--”
+
+“There! there! we'll be out of sight of land in a minute. This Mary
+Thayer--old, was she?”
+
+“No, no! Just a young girl, eighteen or twenty or so. Pretty and nice
+and quiet as ever I see. By Godfrey, she WAS pretty! I wan't as old as I
+be now, and--”
+
+“Ase, don't tell your heart secrets, even to me. I might get
+absent-minded and mention 'em to Matildy. And then--whew!”
+
+“If you don't stop tryin' to play smarty I'll go home. What's Matildy
+Tripp to me, I'd like to know? And even when Mary Thayer was here I was
+old enough to be her dad. But I remember what a nice girl she was and
+how the boarders liked her. They used to say she done more than all the
+Howes tribe put together to make the Sea Sight House a good hotel. Young
+as she was she done most of the housekeepin' and done it well. If the
+rest of 'em had been like her you mightn't have had the place yet, Whit.
+But what set you to thinkin' about her?”
+
+“Oh, I don't know! Nothin' much; that is--well, I'll tell you some other
+time. What became of her?”
+
+“She went up to New Hampshire along with the Howes folks and I ain't
+seen her since. Seems to me I did hear she was married. See here, Whit,
+what is it about her? Tell a feller; come!”
+
+But Captain Cy refused to gratify his chum's lively curiosity. Also he
+refused to go to Simmons's that evening, saying that he was tired and
+guessed he'd stay at home and “turn in early.” Mr. Tidditt departed
+grumbling. After he had gone the captain drew his chair nearer the
+center table, took from his pocket a sheet of notepaper, and proceeded
+to read what was written on its pages. It was a letter which he had
+received nearly a month before and had not yet answered. During the past
+week he had read it many times. The writing was cramped and blotted and
+the paper cheap and dingy. The envelope bore the postmark of a small
+town in Indiana, and the inclosure was worded as follows:
+
+
+CAPTAIN CYRUS WHITTAKER.
+
+DEAR SIR: I suppose you will be a good deal surprised to hear from me,
+especially from way out West here. When you bought the old house of
+Seth, he and I was living in Concord, N. H. He couldn't make a go of his
+business there, so we came West and he has been sick most of the time
+since. We ain't well off like you, and times are hard with us. What I
+wanted to write you about was this. My cousin Mary Thomas, Mary Thayer
+that was, is still living in Concord and she is poor and needs help,
+though I don't suppose she would ask for it, being too proud. False
+pride I call it. Me and Seth would like to do something for her, but we
+have a hard enough job to keep going ourselves. Mary married a man
+by the name of Henry Thomas, and he turned out to be a miserable
+good-for-nothing, as I always said he would. She wouldn't listen to
+me though. He run off and left her seven year ago last April, and I
+understand was killed or drowned somewheres up in Montana. Mary and
+[several words scratched out here] got along somehow since, but I don't
+know how. While we lived in Concord Seth sort of kept an eye on her, but
+now he can't of course. She's a good girl, or woman rather, being most
+forty, and would make a good housekeeper if you should need one as I
+suppose likely you will. If you could help her it would be an act of
+charity and you will be rewarded Above. Seth says why not write to her
+and tell her to come and see you? He feels bad about her, because he is
+so sick I suppose. And he knows you are rich and could do good if you
+felt like it. Her father's name was John Thayer. I wouldn't wonder if
+you used to know her mother. She was Emily Richards afore she married
+and they used to live in Orham.
+
+Yours truly,
+
+ELIZABETH HOWES.
+
+P.S.--Mary's address is Mrs. Mary Thomas, care Mrs. Oliver, 128 Blank
+Street, Concord, N. H.
+
+N.B.--Seth won't say so, but I will: we are very hard up ourselves and
+if you could help him and me with the loan of a little money it would be
+thankfully received.
+
+
+Captain Cy read the letter, folded it, and replaced it in his pocket.
+He knew the Howes family by reputation, and the reputation was that
+of general sharpness in trade and stinginess in money matters. Betsy's
+personal appeal did not, therefore, touch his heart to any great extent.
+He surmised also that for Seth Howes and his wife to ask help for some
+person other than themselves premised a darky in the woodpile somewhere.
+But for the daughter of Emily Richards to be suggested as a possible
+housekeeper at the Cy Whittaker place--that was interesting, certainly.
+
+When the captain was not a captain--when he was merely “young Cy,” a
+boy, living with his parents, a dancing school was organized in Bayport.
+It was an innovation for our village, and frowned upon by many of the
+older and stricter inhabitants. However, most of the captain's
+boy friends were permitted to attend; young Cy was not. His father
+considered dancing a waste of time and, if not wicked, certainly
+frivolous and nonsensical. So the boy remained at home, but, in spite of
+the parental order, he practiced some of the figures of the quadrilles
+and the contra dances in his comrades' barns, learning them at second
+hand, so to speak.
+
+One winter there was to be a party in Orham, given by the Nickersons,
+wealthy people with a fifteen-year-old daughter. It was to be a grand
+affair, and most of the boys and girls in the neighboring towns were
+invited. Cy received an invitation, and, for a wonder, was permitted to
+attend. The Bayport contingent went over in a big hayrick on runners and
+the moonlight ride was jolly enough. The Nickerson mansion was crowded
+and there were music and dancing.
+
+Young Cy was miserable during the dancing. He didn't dare attempt it, in
+spite of his lessons in the barn. So, while the rest of his boy friends
+sought partners for the “Portland Fancy” and “Hull's Victory” he sat
+forlorn in a corner.
+
+As he sat there he was approached by a young lady, radiant in muslin
+and ribbons. She was three or four years older than he was, and he had
+worshipped her from afar as she whirled up and down the line in the
+Virginia Reel. She never lacked partners and seemed to be a great
+favorite with the young men, especially one good-looking chap with a
+sunburned face, who looked like a sailor.
+
+They were forming sets for “Money Musk”; it was “ladies' choice,” and
+there was a demand for more couples. The young lady came ever to Cy's
+corner and laughingly dropped him a courtesy.
+
+“If you please,” she said, “I want a partner. Will you do me the honor?”
+
+Cy blushingly avowed that he couldn't dance any to speak of.
+
+“Oh, yes, you can! I'm sure you can. You're the Whittaker boy, aren't
+you? I've heard about your barn lessons. And I want you to try this
+with me. Please do. No, John,” she added, turning to the sunburned young
+fellow who had followed her across the room; “this is my choice and here
+is my partner. Susie Taylor is after you and you mustn't run away. Come,
+Mr. Whittaker.”
+
+So Cy took her arm and they danced “Money Musk” together. He made but
+a few mistakes, and these she helped him to correct so easily that none
+noticed. His success gave him courage and he essayed other dances; in
+fact, he had a very good time at the party after all.
+
+On the way home he thought a great deal about the pretty young lady,
+whose name he discovered was Emily Richards. He decided that if she
+would only wait for him, he might like to marry her when he grew up.
+But he was thirteen and she was seventeen, and the very next year she
+married John Thayer, the sailor in the blue suit. And two years after
+that young Cy ran away to be a sailor himself.
+
+In spite of his age and his lifetime of battering about the world,
+Captain Cy had a sentimental streak in his makeup; his rejuvenation of
+the old home proved that. Betsy's letter interested him. He had made
+guarded inquiries concerning Mary Thayer, now Mary Thomas, of others
+besides Asaph, and the answers had been satisfactory so far as they
+went; those who remembered her had liked her very much. The captain
+had even begun a letter to Mrs. Thomas, but laid it aside unfinished,
+having, since Bailey's unfortunate experience with the widow Beasley, a
+prejudice against experiments.
+
+But this evening, before Mr. Tidditt called, he had been thinking that
+something would have to be done and done soon. The generally shiftless
+condition of his domestic surroundings was getting to be unbearable.
+Dust and dirt did not fit into his mental picture of the old home as
+it used to be and as he had tried to restore it. There had been neither
+dust nor dirt in his mother's day.
+
+He meditated and smoked for another hour. Then, his mind being made up,
+he pulled down the desk lid of the old-fashioned secretary, resurrected
+from a pile of papers the note he had begun to Mrs. Thomas, dipped a
+sputtering pen into the ink bottle and proceeded to write.
+
+His letter was a short one and rather noncommittal. As Mrs. Thomas no
+doubt knew he had come back to live in his father's house at Bayport. He
+might possibly need some one to keep house for him. He understood that
+she, Mary Thayer that was, was a good housekeeper and that she was open
+to an engagement if everything was mutually satisfactory. He had known
+her mother slightly when the latter lived in Orham. He thought an
+interview might be pleasant, for they could talk over old times if
+nothing more. Perhaps, on the whole, she might care to risk a trip
+to Bayport, therefore he inclosed money for her railroad fare. “You
+understand, of course,” so he wrote in conclusion, “that nothing may
+come of our meeting at all. So please don't say a word to anybody when
+you strike town. You've lived here yourself, and you know that three
+words hove overboard in Bayport will dredge up gab enough to sink a
+dictionary. So just keep mum till the business is settled one way or the
+other.”
+
+He put on his hat and went down to the post office, where he dropped
+his letter in the slot of the box fastened to the front door. Then he
+returned home and retired at exactly eleven o'clock. In spite of his
+remarks to Asaph, he had not “turned in” so early after all.
+
+If the captain expected a prompt reply to his note he was disappointed.
+A week passed and he heard nothing. Then three more days and still no
+word from the New Hampshire widow. Meanwhile fresh layers of dust spread
+themselves over the Whittaker furniture, and the gaudy patterns of the
+carpets blushed dimly beneath a grimy fog. The situation was desperate;
+even Matilda Tripp, Come-Outer sermons and all, began to be thinkable as
+a possibility.
+
+The eleventh day began with a pouring rain that changed, later on, to a
+dismal drizzle. The silver-leaf tree in the front yard dripped, and the
+overflowing gutters gurgled and splashed. The bay was gray and lonely,
+and the fish weirs along the outer bar were lost in the mist. The
+flowers in the Atkins urns were draggled and beaten down. Only the iron
+dogs glistened undaunted as the wet ran off their newly painted backs.
+The air was heavy, and the salty flavor of the flats might almost be
+tasted in it.
+
+Captain Cy was in the sitting room, as usual. His spirits were as gray
+as the weather. He was actually lonesome for the first time since his
+return home. He had kindled a wood fire in the stove, just for the
+sociability of it, and the crackle and glow behind the isinglass panes
+only served to remind him of other days and other fires. The sitting
+room had not been lonesome then.
+
+He heard the depot wagon rattle by and, peering from the window, saw
+that, except for Mr. Lumley, it was empty. Not even a summer boarder had
+come to brighten our ways and lawns with reckless raiment and the newest
+slang. Summer boarding season was almost over now. Bayport would soon be
+as dull as dish water. And the captain admitted to himself that it WAS
+dull. He had half a mind to take a flying trip to Boston, make the round
+of the wharves, and see if any of the old shipowners and ship captains
+whom he had once known were still alive and in harness.
+
+“JINGLE! Jingle! JINGLE! Jingle! Jingle! Jing! Jing! Jing!”
+
+Captain Cy bounced in his chair. That was the front-door bell. The
+FRONT-door bell! Who on earth, or, rather, who in Bayport, would come to
+the FRONT door?
+
+He hurried through the dim grandeur of the best parlor and entered the
+little dark front hall. The bell was still swinging at the end of its
+coil of wire. The dust shaken from it still hung in the air. The captain
+unbolted and unlocked the big front door.
+
+A girl was standing on the steps between the lines of box hedge--a
+little girl under a big “grown-up” umbrella. The wet dripped from the
+umbrella top and from the hem of the little girl's dress.
+
+Captain Cy stared hard at his visitor; he knew most of the children
+in Bayport, but he didn't know this one. Obviously she was a stranger.
+Portuguese children from “up Harniss way” sometimes called to peddle
+huckleberries, but this child was no “Portugee.”
+
+“Hello!” exclaimed the captain wonderingly.
+
+“Did you ring the bell?”
+
+“Yes, sir,” replied the girl.
+
+“Humph! Did, hey? Why?”
+
+“Why? Why, I thought--Isn't it a truly bell? Didn't it ought to ring? Is
+anybody sick or dead? There isn't any crape.”
+
+“Dead? Crape?” Captain Cy gasped. “What in the world put that in your
+head?”
+
+“Well, I didn't know but maybe that was why you thought I hadn't ought
+to have rung it. When mamma was sick they didn't let people ring our
+bell. And when she died they tied it up with crape.”
+
+“Did, hey? Hum!” The captain scratched his chin and gazed at the small
+figure before him. It was a self-poised, matter-of-fact figure for such
+a little one, and, out there in the rain under the tent roof of the
+umbrella, it was rather pitiful.
+
+“Please, sir,” said the child, “are you Captain Cyrus Whittaker?”
+
+“Yup! That's me. You've guessed it the first time.”
+
+“Yes, sir. I've got a letter for you. It's pinned inside my dress. If
+you could hold this umbrella maybe I could get it out.”
+
+She extended the big umbrella at arm's length, holding it with both
+hands. Captain Cy woke up.
+
+“Good land!” he exclaimed, “what am I thinkin' of? You're soakin' wet
+through, ain't you?”
+
+“I guess I'm pretty wet. It's a long ways from the depot, and I tried to
+come across the fields, because a boy said it was nearer, and the bushes
+were--”
+
+“Across the FIELDS? Have you walked all the way from the depot?”
+
+“Yes, sir. The man said it was a quarter to ride, and auntie said I must
+be careful of my money because--”
+
+“By the big dipper! Come in! Come in out of that this minute!”
+
+He sprang down the steps, furled the umbrella, seized her by the arm and
+led her into the house, through the parlor and into the sitting room,
+where the fire crackled invitingly. He could feel that the dress sleeve
+under his hand was wet through, and the worn boots and darned stockings
+he could see were soaked likewise.
+
+“There!” he cried. “Set down in that chair. Put your feet up on that
+h'ath. Sakes alive! Your folks ought to know better than to let you stir
+out this weather, let alone walkin' a mile--and no rubbers! Them shoes
+ought to come off this minute, I s'pose. Take 'em off. You can dry your
+stockings better that way. Off with 'em!”
+
+“Yes, sir,” said the child, stooping to unbutton the shoes. Her
+wet fingers were blue. It can be cold in our village, even in early
+September, when there is an easterly storm. Unbuttoning the shoes was
+slow work.
+
+“Here, let me help you!” commanded the captain, getting down on one knee
+and taking a foot in his lap. “Tut! tut! tut! you're wet! Been some
+time sence I fussed with button boots; lace or long-legged cowhides come
+handier. Never wore cowhides, did you?”
+
+“No, sir.”
+
+“I s'pose not. I used to when I was little. Remember the first pair I
+had. Copper toes on 'em--whew! The copper was blacked over when they
+come out of the store and that wouldn't do, so we used to kick a stone
+wall till they brightened up. There! there she comes. Humph! stockin's
+soaked, too. Wish I had some dry ones to lend you. Might give you a pair
+of mine, but they'd be too scant fore and aft and too broad in the beam,
+I cal'late. Humph! and your top-riggin's as wet as your hull. Been on
+your beam ends, have you?”
+
+“I don't know, sir. I fell down in the bushes coming across. There were
+vines and they tripped me up. And the umbrella was so heavy that--”
+
+“Yes, I could see right off you was carryin' too much canvas. Now take
+off your bunnit and I'll get a coat of mine to wrap you up in.”
+
+He went into his bedroom and returned with a heavy “reefer” jacket.
+Ordering his caller to stand up he slipped her arms into the sleeves
+and turned the collar up about her neck. Her braided “pigtail” of yellow
+hair stuck out over the collar and hung down her back in a funny
+way. The coat sleeves reached almost to her knees and the coat itself
+enveloped her like a bed quilt.
+
+“There!” said Captain Cy approvingly. “Now you look more as if you was
+under a storm rig. Set down and toast your toes. Where's that letter you
+said you had?”
+
+“It's inside here. I don't know's I can get at it; these sleeves are so
+long.”
+
+“Reef 'em. Turn 'em up. Let me show you. That's better! Hum! So you come
+from the depot, hey? Live up that way?”
+
+“No, sir! I used to live in Concord, but--”
+
+“Concord? CONCORD? Concord where?”
+
+“Concord, New Hampshire. I came on the cars. Auntie knew a man who was
+going to Boston, and he said he'd take care of me as far as that and
+then put me on the train to come down here. I stopped at his folks'
+house in Charlestown last night, and this morning we got up early and he
+bought me a ticket and started me for here. I had a box with my things
+in it, but it was so heavy I couldn't carry it, so I left it up at the
+depot. The man there said it would be all right and you could send for
+it when--”
+
+“I could SEND for it? _I_ could? What in the world--Say, child, you've
+made a mistake in your bearin's. 'Taint me you want to see, it's some of
+your folks, relations, most likely. Tell me who they are; maybe I know
+'em.”
+
+The girl sat upright in the big chair. Her dark eyes opened wide and her
+chin quivered.
+
+“Ain't you Captain Cyrus Whittaker?” she demanded. “You said you was.”
+
+“Yes, yes, I am. I'm Cy Whittaker, but what--”
+
+“Well, auntie told me--”
+
+“Auntie! Auntie who?”
+
+“Auntie Oliver. She isn't really my auntie, but mamma and me lived in
+her house for ever so long and so--”
+
+“Wait! wait! wait! I'm hull down in the fog. This is gettin' too thick
+for ME. Your auntie's name's Oliver and you lived in Concord, New
+Hampshire. For--for thunder sakes, what's YOUR name?”
+
+“Emily Richards Thomas.”
+
+“Em--Emily--Richards--Thomas”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“Emily Richards Thomas! What was your ma's name?”
+
+“Mamma was Mrs. Thomas. Her front name was Mary. She's dead. Don't you
+want to see your letter? I've got it now.”
+
+She lifted one of the flapping coat sleeves and extended a crumpled,
+damp envelope. Captain Cy took it in a dazed fashion and drew a long
+breath. Then he tore open the envelope and read the following:
+
+
+DEAR CAPTAIN WHITTAKER:
+
+The bearer of this is Emily Richards Thomas. She is seven, going on
+eight, but old for her years. Her mother was Mary Thomas that used to
+be Mary Thayer. It was her you wrote to about keeping house for you, but
+she had been dead a fortnight before your letter come. She had bronchial
+pneumonia and it carried her off, having always been delicate and
+with more troubles to bear than she could stand, poor thing. Since her
+husband, who I say was a scamp even if he is dead, left her and the
+baby, she has took rooms with me and done sewing and such. When she
+passed away I wrote to Seth Howes, a relation of hers out West, and, so
+far as I know, the only one she had. I told the Howes man that Mary had
+gone and Emmie was left. Would they take her? I wrote. And Seth's wife
+wrote they couldn't, being poorer than poverty themselves. I was afraid
+she would have to go to a Home, but when your letter came I wrote the
+Howeses again. And Mrs. Howes wrote back that you was rich, and a sort
+of far-off relation of Mary's, and probably you would be glad to take
+the child to bring up. Said that she had some correspondence with you
+about Mary before. So I send Emmie to you. Somebody's got to take care
+of her and I can't afford it, though I would if I could, for she's a
+real nice child and some like her mother. I do hope she can stay with
+you. It seems a shame to send her to the orphan asylum. I send along
+what clothes she's got, which ain't many.
+
+Respectfully yours,
+
+SARAH OLIVER.
+
+
+Captain Cy read the letter through. Then he wiped his forehead.
+
+“Well!” he muttered. “WELL! I never in my life! I--I never did! Of
+all--”
+
+Emily Richards Thomas looked up from the depths of the coat collar.
+
+“Don't you think,” she said, “that you had better send to the depot for
+my box? I can get dry SOME this way, but mamma always made me change my
+clothes as soon as I could. She used to be afraid I'd get cold.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+ICICLES AND DUST
+
+
+Captain Cy did not reply to the request for the box. It is doubtful if
+he even heard it. Mrs. Oliver's astonishing letter had, as he afterwards
+said, left him “high and dry with no tug in sight.” Mary Thomas was
+dead, and her daughter, her DAUGHTER! of whose very existence he had
+been ignorant, had suddenly appeared from nowhere and been dropped at
+his door, like an out-of-season May basket, accompanied by the modest
+suggestion that he assume responsibility for her thereafter. No wonder
+the captain wiped his forehead in utter bewilderment.
+
+“Don't you think you'd better send for the box?” repeated the child,
+shivering a little under the big coat.
+
+“Hey? What say? Never mind, though. Just keep quiet for a spell, won't
+you. I want to let this soak in. By the big dipper! Of all the solid
+brass cheek that ever I run across, this beats the whole cargo! And
+Betsy Howes never hinted! 'Probably you would be glad to take--' Be
+GLAD! Why, blast their miserable, stingy--What do they take me for? I'LL
+show 'em! Indiana ain't so fur that I can't--Hey? Did you say anything,
+sis?”
+
+The girl had shivered again. “No, sir,” she replied. “It was my teeth, I
+guess. They kind of rattled.”
+
+“What? You ain't cold, are you? With all that round you and in front of
+that fire?”
+
+“No, sir, I guess not. Only my back feels sort of funny, as if somebody
+kept dropping icicles down it. Those bushes and vines were so wet that
+when I tumbled down 'twas most like being in a pond.”
+
+“Sho! sho! That won't do. Can't have you laid up on my hands. That would
+be worse than--Humph! Tut, tut! Somethin' ought to be done, and I'm
+blessed if I know what. And not a woman round the place--not even that
+Debby. Say, look here, what's your name--er--Emmie, hadn't I better get
+the doctor?”
+
+The child looked frightened.
+
+“Why?” she cried, her big eyes opening. “I'm not sick, am I?”
+
+“Sick? No, no! Course not, course not. What would you want to be sick
+for? But you ought to get warm and dry right off, I s'pose, and your
+duds are all up to the depot. Say, what does--what did your ma used to
+do when you felt--er--them icicles and things?”
+
+“She changed my clothes and rubbed me. And, if I was VERY wet she put me
+to bed sometimes.”
+
+“Bed? Sure! why, yes, indeed. Bed's a good place to keep off icicles.
+There's my bedroom right in there. You could turn in just as well
+as not. Bunk ain't made yet, but I can shake it up in no time.
+Say--er--er--you can undress yourself, can't you?”
+
+“Oh, yes, sir! Course I can! I'm most eight.”
+
+“Sure you are! Don't act a mite babyish. All right, you set still till I
+shake up that bunk.”
+
+He entered the chamber, his own, opening from the sitting room, and
+proceeded, literally, to “shake up” the bed. It was not a lengthy
+process and, when it was completed, he returned to find his visitor
+already divested of the coat and standing before the stove.
+
+“I guess perhaps you'll have to help undo me behind,” observed the young
+lady. “This is my best dress and I can't reach the buttons in the middle
+of the back.”
+
+Captain Cy scratched his head. Then he clumsily unbuttoned the wet
+waist, glancing rather sheepishly at the window to see if anyone was
+coming.
+
+“So this is your best dress, hey?” he asked, to cover his confusion.
+It was obviously not very new, for it was neatly mended in one or two
+places.
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“So. Where'd you buy it--up to Concord?”
+
+“No, sir. Mamma made it, a year ago.”
+
+There was a little choke in the child's voice. The captain was mightily
+taken back.
+
+“Hum! Yes, yes,” he muttered hurriedly. “Well, there you are. Now you
+can get along, can't you?”
+
+“Yes, sir. Shall I go in that room?”
+
+“Trot right in. You might--er--maybe you might sing out when you're
+tucked up. I--I'll want to know if you're got bedclothes enough.”
+
+Emily disappeared in the bedroom. The door closed. Captain Cy, his hands
+in his pockets, walked up and down the length of the sitting room. The
+expression on his face was a queer one.
+
+“I haven't got any nightgown,” called a voice from the other room. The
+captain gasped.
+
+“Good land! so you ain't,” he exclaimed. “What in the world--Humph! I
+wonder--”
+
+He went to the lower drawer of a tall “highboy” and, from the tumbled
+mass of apparel therein took one of his own night garments.
+
+“Here's one,” he said, coming back with it in his hand. “I guess you'll
+have to make this do for now. It'll fit you enough for three times to
+once, but it's all I've got.”
+
+A small hand reached 'round the edge of the door and the nightshirt
+disappeared. Captain Cy chuckled and resumed his pacing.
+
+“I'm tucked up,” called Miss Thomas. The captain entered and found her
+in bed, the patchwork points and diamonds of the “Rising Sun” quilt
+covering her to the chin and her head denting the uppermost of the two
+big pillows. Captain Cy liked to “sleep high.”
+
+“Got enough over you?” he asked.
+
+“Yes, sir, thank you.”
+
+“That's good. I'll take your togs out and dry 'em in the kitchen. Don't
+be scared; I'll be right back.”
+
+In the kitchen he sorted the wet garments and hung them about the
+cook stove. It was a strange occupation for him and he shook his head
+whimsically as he completed it. Then he took a flat iron, one of Mrs.
+Beasley's purchases, from the shelf in the closet and put it in the oven
+to heat. Soon afterwards he returned to the bedroom, bearing the iron
+wrapped in a dish towel.
+
+“My ma always used to put a hot flat to my feet when I was a young one
+and got chilled,” he explained. “I ain't used one for some time, but I
+guess it's a good receipt. How do you feel now? Any more icicles?”
+
+“No, sir. I'm ever so warm. Isn't this a nice bed?”
+
+“Think so, do you? Glad of it. Well, now, I'm goin' to leave you in it
+while I step down street and see about havin' your box sent for. I'll be
+back in a shake. If anybody comes to the door while I'm gone don't you
+worry; let 'em go away again.”
+
+He put on his hat and left the house, walking rapidly, his head down and
+his hands in his pockets. At times he would pause in his walk, whistle,
+shake his head, and go on once more. Josiah Dimick met him, and his
+answers to Josiah's questions were so vague and irrelevant that Captain
+Dimick was puzzled, and later expressed the opinion that “Whit's cookin'
+must be pretty bad; acted to me as if he had dyspepsy of the brain.”
+
+Captain Cy stopped at Mr. Lumley's residence to leave an order for the
+delivery of the box. Then he drifted into Simmons's and accosted Alpheus
+Smalley.
+
+“Al,” he said, “what's good for a cold?”
+
+“Why?” asked Mr. Smalley, in true Yankee fashion. “You got one?”
+
+“Hey? Oh, yes! Yes, I've got one.” By way of proof he coughed until the
+lamp chimneys rattled on the shelf.
+
+“Judas! I should think you had! Well, there's 'Pine Bark Oil' and
+'Sassafras Elixir' and two kinds of sass'p'rilla--that's good for most
+everything--and--Is your throat sore?”
+
+“Hey? Yes, I guess so.”
+
+“Don't you KNOW? If you've got sore throat there ain't nothin' better'n
+'Arabian Balsam.' But what in time are you doin' out in this drizzle
+with a cold and no umbrella? Do you want to--”
+
+“Never mind my umbrella. I left it in the church entry t'other Sunday
+and somebody got out afore I did. This 'Arabian Balsam'--seems to me I
+remember my ma's usin' that on me. Wet a rag with it, don't you, and tie
+it round your neck?”
+
+“Yup. Be sure and use a flannel rag, and red flannel if you've got it;
+that acts quicker'n the other kinds. Fifteen cent bottle?”
+
+“I guess so. Might's well give me some sass'p'rilla, while you're about
+it; always handy to have in the house. And--er--say, is that canned soup
+you've got up on that shelf?”
+
+The astonished clerk admitted that it was.
+
+“Well, give me a can of the chicken kind.”
+
+Mr. Smalley, standing on a chair to reach the shelf where the soup was
+kept, shook his head.
+
+“Now, that's too bad, Cap'n,” he said, “but we're all out of chicken
+just now. Fact is, we ain't got nothin' but termatter and beef broth.
+Yes, and I declare if the termatter ain't all gone.”
+
+“Humph! then I guess I'll take the beef. Needn't mind wrappin' it up. So
+long.”
+
+He departed bearing his purchases. When Mr. Simmons, proprietor of
+the store, returned, Alpheus told him that he “cal'lated” Captain Cy
+Whittaker was preparing to “go into a decline, or somethin'.”
+
+“Anyhow,” said Alpheus, “he bought sass'p'rilla and 'Arabian Balsam,'
+and I sold him a can of that beef soup you bought three year ago last
+summer, when Alicia Atkins had the chicken pox.”
+
+The captain entered the house quietly and tiptoed to the door of the
+bedroom. Emily was asleep, and the sight of the childish head upon the
+pillow gave him a start as he peeped in at it. It looked so natural,
+almost as if it belonged there. It had been in a bed like that and in
+that very room that he had slept when a boy.
+
+Gabe, brimful of curiosity, brought the box a little later. His
+curiosity was ungratified, Captain Cyrus explaining that it was a
+package he had been expecting. The captain took the box to the bedroom,
+and, finding the child still asleep, deposited it on the floor and
+tiptoed out again. He went to the kitchen, poked up the fire, and set
+about getting dinner.
+
+He was warming the beef broth in a saucepan on the stove when Emily
+appeared. She was dressed in dry clothes from the box and seemed to be
+feeling as good as new.
+
+“Hello!” exclaimed Captain Cy. “You're on deck again, hey? How's
+icicles?”
+
+“All gone,” was the reply. “Do you do your own work? Can't I help? I can
+set the table. I used to for Mrs. Oliver.”
+
+The captain protested that he could do it himself just as well, but
+the girl persisting, he showed her where the dishes were kept. From the
+corner of his eye he watched her as she unfolded the tablecloth.
+
+“Is this the only one you've got?” she inquired. “It's awful dirty.”
+
+“Hum! Yes, I ain't tended up to my washin' and ironin' the way I'd ought
+to. I'll lose my job if I don't look out, hey?”
+
+Before they sat down to the meal Captain Cy insisted that his guest
+take a tablespoonful of the sarsaparilla and decorate her throat with
+a section of red flannel soaked in the 'Arabian Balsam.' The perfume of
+the latter was penetrating and might have interfered with a less healthy
+appetite than that of Miss Thomas.
+
+“Have some soup? Some I bought purpose for you. Best thing goin' for
+folks with icicles,” remarked the captain, waving the iron spoon he had
+used to stir the contents of the saucepan.
+
+“Yes, sir, thank you. But don't you ask a blessing?”
+
+“Hey?”
+
+“A blessing, you know. Saying that you're thankful for the food now set
+before us.”
+
+“Hum! Why, to tell you the truth I've kind of neglected that, I'm
+afraid. Bein' thankful for the grub I've had lately was most too much of
+a strain, I shouldn't wonder.”
+
+“I know the one mamma used to say. Shall I ask it for you?”
+
+“Sho! I guess so, if you want to.”
+
+The girl bent her head and repeated a short grace. Captain Cy watched
+her curiously.
+
+“Now, I'll have some soup, please,” observed Emily. “I'm awful hungry.
+I had breakfast at five o'clock this morning and we didn't have a chance
+to eat much.”
+
+A good many times that day the captain caught himself wondering if he
+wasn't dreaming. The whole affair seemed too ridiculous to be an actual
+experience. Dinner over, he and Emmie attended to the dishes, he washing
+and she wiping. And even at this early stage of their acquaintance her
+disposition to take charge of things was apparent. She found fault with
+the dish towels; they were almost as bad as the tablecloth, she said.
+Considering that the same set had been in use since Mrs. Beasley's
+departure, the criticism was not altogether baseless. But the young lady
+did not stop there--her companion's skill as a washer was questioned.
+
+“Excuse me,” she said, “but don't you think that plate had better be
+done over? I guess you didn't see that place in the corner. Perhaps
+you've forgot your specs. Auntie Oliver couldn't see well without her
+specs.”
+
+Captain Cy grinned and admitted that a second washing wouldn't hurt the
+plate.
+
+“I guess your auntie was one of the particular kind,” he said.
+
+“No, sir, 'twas mamma. She couldn't bear dirty things. Auntie used to
+say that mamma hunted dust with a magnifying glass. She didn't, though;
+she only liked to be neat. I guess dust doesn't worry men so much as it
+does women.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Oh, 'cause there's so much of it here; don't you think so? I'll help
+you clean up by and by, if you want to.”
+
+“YOU will?”
+
+“Yes, sir. I used to dust sometimes when mamma was out sewing. And once
+I swept, but I did it so hard that auntie wouldn't let me any more. She
+said 'twas like trying to blow out a match with a tornado.”
+
+Later on he found her standing in the sitting room, critically
+inspecting the mats, the furniture, and the pictures on the walls. He
+stood watching her for a moment and then asked:
+
+“Well, what are you lookin' for--more dust? 'Twon't be hard to find it.
+'Dust thou art and unto dust thou shalt return.' Every time I go outdoor
+and come in again I realize how true that is.”
+
+Emily shook her head.
+
+“No, sir,” she said; “I was only looking at things and thinking.”
+
+“Thinkin', hey? What about? or is that a secret?”
+
+“No, sir. I was thinking that this room was different from any I've ever
+seen.”
+
+“Humph! Yes, I presume likely 'tis. Don't like it very much, do you?”
+
+“Yes, sir, I think I do. It's got a good many things in it that I never
+saw before, but I guess they're pretty--after you get used to 'em.”
+
+Captain Cy laughed aloud. “After you get used to 'em, hey?” he repeated.
+
+“Yes, sir. That's what mamma said about Auntie Oliver's new bonnet that
+she made herself. I--I was thinking that you must be peculiar.”
+
+“Peculiar?”
+
+“Yes, sir. I like peculiar people. I'm peculiar myself. Auntie used to
+say I was the most peculiar child she ever saw. P'raps that's why I came
+to you. P'raps God meant for peculiar ones to live together. Don't you
+think maybe that was it?”
+
+And the captain, having no answer ready, said nothing.
+
+That evening when Asaph and Bailey, coming for their usual call, peeped
+in at the window, they were astounded by the tableau in the Whittaker
+sitting room. Captain Cy was seated in the rocking chair which had been
+his grandfather's. At his feet, on the walnut cricket with a haircloth
+top, sat a little girl turning over the leaves of a tattered magazine,
+a Godey's Lady's Book. A pile of these magazines was beside her on the
+floor. The captain was smiling and looking over her shoulder. The cat
+was curled up in another chair. The room looked more homelike than it
+had since its owner returned to it.
+
+The friends entered without knocking. Captain Cy looked up, saw them,
+and appeared embarrassed.
+
+“Hello, boys!” he said. “Glad to see you. Come right in. Clearin' off
+fine, ain't it?”
+
+Mr. Tidditt replied absently that he wouldn't be surprised if it was.
+Bailey, his eyes fixed upon the occupant of the cricket, said nothing.
+
+“We--we didn't know you had company, Whit,” said Asaph. “We been up to
+Simmons's and Alpheus said you was thin and peaked and looked sick. Said
+you bought sass'p'rilla and all kind of truck. He was afraid you had
+fever and was out of your head, cruisin round in the rain with no
+umbrella. The gang weren't talkin' of nothin' else, so me and Bailey
+thought we'd come right down.”
+
+“That's kind of you, I'm sure. Take your things off and set down. No,
+I'm sorry to disappoint Smalley and the rest, but I'm able to be up
+and--er--make my own bed, thank you. So Alpheus thought I looked thin,
+hey? Well, if I had to live on that soup he sold me, I'd be thinner'n I
+am now. You tell him that canned hot water is all right if you like it,
+but it seems a shame to put mud in it. It only changes the color and
+don't help the taste.”
+
+Mr. Bangs, who was still staring at Emily, now ventured a remark.
+
+“Is that a relation of yours, Cy?” he asked.
+
+“That? Oh! Well, no, not exactly. And yet I don't know but she is.
+Fellers, this is Emmie Thomas. Can't you shake hands, Emmie?”
+
+The child rose, laid down the magazine, which was open at the colored
+picture of a group of ladies in crinoline and chignons, and, going
+across the room, extended a hand to Mr. Tidditt.
+
+“How do you do, sir?” she said.
+
+“Why--er--how d'ye do? I'm pretty smart, thank you. How's yourself?”
+
+“I'm better now. I guess the sass'parilla was good for me.”
+
+“'Twan't the sass'p'rilla,” observed the captain, with conviction.
+“'Twas the 'Arabian Balsam.' Ma always cured me with it and there's
+nothin' finer.”
+
+“But what in time--” began Bailey. Captain Cy glanced at the child and
+then at the clock.
+
+“Don't you think you'd better turn in now, Emmie?” he said hastily,
+cutting off the remainder of the Bangs query. “It's after eight, and
+when I was little I was abed afore that.”
+
+Emily obediently turned, gathered up the Lady's Books and replaced them
+in the closet. Then she went to the dining room and came back with a
+hand lamp.
+
+“Good night,” she said, addressing the visitors. Then, coming close to
+the captain, she put her face up for a kiss.
+
+“Good night,” she said to him, adding, “I like it here ever so much. I'm
+awful glad you let me stay.”
+
+As Bailey told Asaph afterwards, Captain Cy blushed until the ends of
+the red lapped over at the nape of his neck. However, he bent and kissed
+the rosy lips and then quickly brushed his own with his hand.
+
+“Yes, yes,” he stammered. “Well--er--good night. Pleasant dreams to you.
+See you in the mornin'.”
+
+The girl paused at the chamber door. “You won't have to unbutton my
+waist now,” she said. “This is my other one and it ain't that kind.”
+
+The door closed. The captain, without looking at his friends, led the
+way to the dining room.
+
+“Come on out here,” he whispered. “We can talk better here.”
+
+Naturally, they wanted to know all about the girl, who she was and where
+she came from. Captain Cy told as much of the history of the affair as
+he thought necessary.
+
+“Poor young one,” he concluded, “she landed on to me in the rain,
+soppin' wet, and ha'f sick. I COULDN'T turn her out then--nobody could.
+Course it's an everlastin' outrage on me and the cheekiest thing ever I
+heard of, but what could I do? I was fixed a good deal like an English
+feller by the name of Gatenby that I used to know in South America. He
+woke up in the middle of the night and found a boa constrictor curled on
+the foot of his bed. Next day, when a crowd of us happened in, there
+was Gatenby, white as a sheet, starin' down at the snake, and it sound
+asleep. 'I didn't invite him,' he says, 'but he looked so bloomin'
+comf'table I 'adn't the 'eart to disturb 'im.' Same way with me;
+the child seemed so comf'table here I ain't had the heart to disturb
+her--yet.”
+
+“But she said she was goin' to stay,” put in Bailey. “You ain't goin' to
+KEEP her, are you?”
+
+The captain's indignation was intense.
+
+“Who--me?” he snorted. “What do you think I am? I ain't runnin' an
+orphan asylum. No, sir! I'll keep the young one a day or so--or maybe a
+week--and then I'll pack her off to Betsy Howes. I ain't so soft as they
+think I am. I'LL show 'em!”
+
+Mr. Tidditt looked thoughtful.
+
+“She's a kind of cute little girl, ain't she?” he observed.
+
+Captain Cy's frown vanished and a smile took its place.
+
+“That's so,” he chuckled. “She is, now that's a fact! I don't know's I
+ever saw a cuter.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+CAPTAIN CY PROVES DELINQUENT
+
+
+A week isn't a very long time even in Bayport. True, there was once a
+drummer for a Boston “notion” house who sprained his ankle on the icy
+sidewalk in front of Simmons's, and was therefore obliged to remain in
+the front bedroom of the perfect boarding house for seven whole days. He
+is quoted as saying that next time he hoped he might break his neck.
+
+“Brother,” asked the shocked Rev. Mr. Daniels, who was calling upon the
+stranger, “are you prepared to face eternity?”
+
+“What?” was the energetic reply. “After a week in this town, and in this
+bedroom? Look here, Mister, if you want to scare me about the future you
+just hint that they'll put me on a straw tick in an ice chest. Anything
+hot and lively 'll only be tempting after this.”
+
+But to us, who live here throughout the year, a week soon passes. And
+the end of the week following Emily Thomas's arrival at the Cy Whittaker
+place found the little girl still there and apparently no nearer being
+shipped to Indiana than when she came. Not so near, if Mr. Tidditt's
+opinion counts for anything.
+
+“Gone?” he repeated scoffingly in reply to Bailey Bangs's question.
+“Course she ain't gone! And, what's more, she ain't goin' to go. Whit's
+got so already that he wouldn't part with her no more'n he'd cut off his
+hand.”
+
+“But he keeps SAYIN' she's got to go. Only yesterday he was tellin' how
+Betsy'd feel when the girl landed on her with his letter in her pocket.”
+
+“Sayin' don't count for nothin'. Zoeth Cahoon keeps SAYIN' he's goin' to
+stop drinkin', but he only stops long enough to catch his breath. Cy's
+tellin' himself fairy yarns and he hopes he believes 'em. Man alive!
+can't you SEE? Ain't he gettin' more foolish over the young one every
+day? Don't she boss him round like the overseer on a cranberry swamp?
+Don't he look more contented than he has sence he got off the cars? I
+tell you, Bailey, that child fills a place in Whit's life that's been
+runnin' to seed and needed weedin'. Nothin' could fill it better--unless
+'twas a nice wife.”
+
+“WIFE! Oh, DO be still! I believe you're woman-struck and at an age when
+it hadn't ought to be catchin' no more'n whoopin' cough.”
+
+Mr. Bangs and the town clerk were the only ones, except Captain Cy, who
+knew the whole truth concerning the little girl. Not that the child's
+arrival wasn't noted and vigorously discussed by a large portion of the
+townspeople. Emily had not been in the Whittaker house two days before
+Angeline Phinney called, hot on the trail of gossip and sensation. But,
+persistent as Angeline was, she departed knowing not quite as much as
+when she came. The interview between Miss Phinney and the captain must
+have been interesting, judging by the lady's account of it.
+
+“I never see such a man in my born days,” declared Angie disgustedly.
+“You couldn't get nothin' out of him. Not that he wan't pleasant and
+sociable; land sakes! he acted as glad to see me as if I was his rich
+aunt come on a visit. And he was willin' to talk, too. That's the
+trouble; he done ALL the talkin'. I happened to mention, just as a sort
+of starter, you know, somethin' about the cranb'ry crop this fall; and
+after that all he could say was 'cranb'ries, cranb'ries, cranb'ries!'
+'Hear you've got comp'ny,' says I. 'Did you?' says he. 'Now ain't it
+strange how things'll get spread around? Only yesterday I heard that Joe
+Dimick's swamp was just loaded down with “early blacks.” And yet when
+I went over to look at it there didn't seem to be so many. There ain't
+much better cranb'ries anywhere than our early blacks,' he says. 'You
+take 'em--' And so on, and so on, and so on. _I_ didn't care nothin'
+about the dratted early blacks, but he didn't seem to care for nothin'
+else. He talked cranb'ries steady for an hour and a half and I left
+that house with my mouth all puckered up; it's tasted sour ever sence. I
+never see such a man!”
+
+When Captain Cy was questioned by Asaph concerning the acid
+conversation, he grinned.
+
+“I didn't know you was so interested in cranb'ries,” observed Tidditt.
+
+“I ain't,” was the reply; “but I'm more interested in 'em than I am in
+Angie. I see she was sufferin' from a rush of curiosity to the head
+and I cured her by homeopath doses. Every time she opened her mouth I
+dropped an 'early black' into it. It's a good receipt; you tell Bailey
+to try it on Ketury some time.”
+
+To his chums the captain was emphatic in his orders that secrecy be
+preserved. No one was to be told who the child was or where she came
+from. “What they don't know won't hurt 'em any,” declared Captain Cy.
+And Emily's answer to inquiring souls who would fain have delved into
+her past was to the effect that “Uncle Cyrus” didn't like to have her
+talk about herself.
+
+“I don't know's I'm ashamed of anything I've done so far,” said the
+captain; “but I ain't braggin', either. Time enough to talk when I send
+her back to Betsy.”
+
+That time, apparently, was not in the near future. The girl stayed on
+at the Whittaker place and grew to be more and more a part of it. At the
+end of the second week Captain Cy began calling her “Bos'n.”
+
+“A bos'n's a mighty handy man aboard ship,” he explained, “and you're
+so handy here that it fits in first rate. And, besides, it sounds so
+natural. My dad called me 'Bos'n' when I was little.”
+
+Emily accepted the title complacently. She was quite contented to be
+called almost anything, so long as she was permitted to stay with her
+new friend. Already the bos'n had taken charge of the deck and the rest
+of the ship's company; Captain Cy and “Lonesome,” the cat, obeyed her
+orders.
+
+On the second Sunday morning after her arrival “Bos'n” suggested that
+she and Captain Cy go to church.
+
+“Mother and I always went at home,” she said. “And Auntie Oliver used to
+say meeting was a good thing for those that needed it.”
+
+“Think I need it, do you?” asked the captain, who, in shirt sleeves and
+slippers, had prepared for a quiet forenoon with his pipe and the Boston
+Transcript.
+
+“I don't know, sir. I heard what you said when Lonesome ate up the
+steak, and I thought maybe you hadn't been for a long time. I guess
+churches are different in South America.”
+
+So they went to church and sat in the old Whittaker pew. The captain had
+been there once before when he first returned to Bayport, but the sermon
+was more somnolent than edifying, and he hadn't repeated the experiment.
+The pair attracted much attention. Fragments of a conversation, heard
+by Captain Cy as they emerged into the vestibule, had momentous
+consequences.
+
+“Kind of a pretty child, ain't she?” commented Mrs. Eben Salters,
+patting her false front into place under the eaves of her Sunday bonnet.
+
+“Pretty enough in the face,” sniffed Mrs. “Tad” Simpson, who was wearing
+her black silk for the first time since its third making-over. “Pretty
+enough that way, I s'pose. But, my land! look at the way she's
+rigged. Old dress, darned and patched up and all outgrown! If I had
+Cy Whittaker's money I'd be ashamed to have a relation of mine come to
+meetin' that way. Even if her folks was poorer'n Job's off ox I'd spend
+a little on my own account and trust to getting it back some time. I'd
+have more care for my own self-respect. Look at Alicia Atkins. See how
+nice she looks. Them feathers on her hat must have cost somethin', I bet
+you. Howdy do, 'Licia, dear? When's your pa comin' home?”
+
+The Honorable Heman had left town on a business trip to the South.
+Alicia was accompanied by the Atkins housekeeper and, as usual, was
+garbed regardless of expense.
+
+Mrs. Salters smiled sweetly upon the Atkins heir and then added, in a
+church whisper: “Don't she look sweet? I agree with you, Sarah; it is
+strange how Captain Whittaker lets his little niece go. And him rich!”
+
+“Niece?” repeated Mrs. Simpson eagerly. “Who said 'twas his niece? I
+heard 'twas a child he'd adopted out of a home. There's all sorts of
+queer yarns about. I--Oh, good mornin', Cap'n Cyrus! How DO you do?”
+
+The captain grunted an answer to the effect that he was bearing up
+pretty well, considering. There was a scowl on his face, and he spoke
+little as, holding Emily by the hand, he led the way home. That evening
+he dropped in at the perfect boarding house and begged to know if Mrs.
+Bangs had any “fashion books” around that she didn't want.
+
+“I mean--er--er--magazines with pictures of women's duds in 'em,” he
+stammered, in explanation. “Bos'n likes to look at 'em. She's great on
+fashion books, Bos'n is.”
+
+Keturah got together a half dozen numbers of the Home Dressmaker and
+other periodicals of a similar nature. The captain took them under his
+arm and departed, whispering to Mr. Tidditt, as he passed the latter in
+the hall:
+
+“Come up by and by, Ase. I want to talk to you. Bring Bailey along, if
+you can do it without startin' divorce proceedings.”
+
+Later, when the trio gathered in the Whittaker sitting room, Captain Cy
+produced the “fashion books” and spoke concerning them.
+
+“You see,” he said, “I--I've been thinkin' that Bos'n--Emily, that
+is--wan't rigged exactly the way she ought to be. Have you fellers
+noticed it?”
+
+His friends seemed surprised. Neither was ready with an immediate
+answer, so the captain went on.
+
+“Course I don't mean she ain't got canvas enough to cover her spars,” he
+explained; “but what she has got has seen consider'ble weather, and it
+seemed to me 'twas pretty nigh time to haul her into dry dock and refit.
+That's why I borrowed these magazines of Ketury. I've been lookin' them
+over and there seems to be plenty of riggin' for small craft; the only
+thing is I don't know what's the right cut for her build. Bailey, you're
+a married man; you ought to know somethin' about women's clothes. What
+do you think of this, now?”
+
+He opened one of the magazines and pointed to the picture of a young
+girl, with a waspy waist and Lilliputian feet, who, arrayed in flounces
+and furbelows, was toddling gingerly down a flight of marble steps. She
+carried a parasol in one hand, and the other held the end of a chain to
+which a long-haired dog was attached.
+
+The town clerk and his companion inspected the young lady with
+deliberation and interest.
+
+“Well, what do you say?” demanded Captain Cy.
+
+“I don't care much for them kind of dogs,” observed Asaph thoughtfully.
+
+“Good land! you don't s'pose they heave the dog in with the clothes, for
+good measure, do you? Bailey, what's your opinion?”
+
+Mr. Bangs looked wise.
+
+“I should say--” he said, “yes, sir, I should say that was a real
+stylish rig-out. Only thing is, that girl is consider'ble less
+fleshy than Emily. This one looks to me as if she was breakin' in two
+amidships. Still, I s'pose likely the duds don't come ready made, so
+they could be let out some, to fit. What's the price of a suit like
+that, Whit?”
+
+The captain looked at the printed number beneath the fashion plate and
+then turned to the description in the text.
+
+“'Afternoon gown for miss of sixteen,'” he read. “Humph! that settles
+that, first crack. Bos'n ain't but half of sixteen.”
+
+“Anyway,” put in Asaph, “you need somethin' she could wear forenoons, if
+she wanted to. What's this one? She looks young enough.”
+
+The “one” referred to turned out to be a “coat for child of four.”
+ It was therefore scornfully rejected. One after another the different
+magazines were examined and the pictures discussed. At length a “costume
+for miss of eight years” was pronounced to be pretty nearly the thing.
+
+“Godfrey scissors!” exclaimed the admiring Mr. Tidditt. “That's mighty
+swell, ain't it? What's the stuff goes into that, Cy?”
+
+“'Material, batiste, trimmed with embroidered batiste.' What in time is
+batiste?”
+
+“I don't know. Do you, Bailey?”
+
+“No; never heard of it. Ketury never had nothin' like that, I'm sure.
+French, I shouldn't wonder. Well, Ketury's down on the French ever sence
+she read about Napoleon leavin' his fust wife to take up with another
+woman. Does it say any more?”
+
+“Let's see. 'Makes a beautiful gown for evening or summer wear.' Summer!
+Why, by the big dipper, we're aground again! Bos'n don't want summer
+clothes. It's comin' on winter.”
+
+He threw the magazine on the floor, rubbed his forehead, and then burst
+into a laugh.
+
+“For goodness sake, don't tell anybody about this business, boys!” he
+said. “I guess I must be havin' an early spring of second childhood. But
+when I heard those women at the meetin' house goin' on about how pretty
+'Licia Atkins was got up and how mean and shabby Bos'n looked, it made
+me bile. And, by the big dipper, I WILL show 'em somethin' afore I get
+through, too! Only, dressin' little girls is some off my usual course.
+Bailey, does Ketury make her own duds?”
+
+“Why, no! Course she helps and stands by for orders, but Effie Taylor
+comes and takes the wheel while the riggin's goin' on. Effie's a
+dressmaker and--”
+
+“There! See, Ase? It IS some good to have a married man aboard, after
+all. A dressmaker's what we want. I'll hunt up Effie to-morrow.”
+
+And hunt her up he did, with the result that Miss Taylor came to the
+Whittaker place each day during the following week and Emily was, as
+the captain said, “rigged out fresh from main truck to keelson.” In this
+“rigging” Captain Cy and his two partners--Josiah Dimick had already
+christened the pair “The Board of Strategy”--took a marked interest.
+They were on hand when each new garment was tried on, and they approved
+or criticised as seemed to them best.
+
+“Ain't that kind of sober lookin' for a young one like Bos'n?” asked the
+captain, referring to one of the new gowns. “I don't want her to look as
+if she was dressed cheap.”
+
+“Land sakes!” mumbled Miss Taylor, her mouth full of pins. “There ain't
+anything cheap about it, and you'll find it out when you get the bill.
+That's a nice, rich, sensible suit.”
+
+“I know, but it's so everlastin' quiet! Don't you think a little yellow
+and black or some red strung along the yards would sort of liven it
+up? Why! you ought to see them Greaser girls down in South America of a
+Sunday afternoon. Color! and go! Jerushy! they'd pretty nigh knock your
+eye out.”
+
+The dressmaker sniffed disdain.
+
+“Cap'n Whittaker,” she retorted, “if you want this child to look like an
+Indian squaw or a barber's pole you'll have to get somebody else to do
+it. I'm used to dressing Christians, not yeller and black heathen women.
+Red strung along a skirt like that! I never did!”
+
+“There, there, Effie! Don't get the barometer fallin'. I was only
+suggestin', you know. What do you think, Bos'n?”
+
+“Why, Uncle Cyrus, I don't believe I should like red very much; nor the
+other colors, either. I like this just as it is.”
+
+“So? Well, you're the doctor. Maybe you're right. I wouldn't want you
+to look like a barber's pole. Don't love Tad Simpson enough to want to
+advertise his business.”
+
+Miss Taylor's coming had other results besides the refitting of “Bos'n.”
+ She found much fault with the captain's housekeeping. It developed that
+her sister Georgiana, who had been working in a Brockton shoe shop, was
+now at home and might be engaged to attend to the household duties
+at the Whittaker establishment, provided she was allowed to “go home
+nights.” Georgiana was engaged, on trial, and did well. So that problem
+was solved.
+
+School in Bayport opens the first week in October. Of late there has
+been a movement, headed by some of the townspeople who think city ways
+are best, to have the term begin in September. But this idea has little
+chance of success as long as cranberry picking continues to be our
+leading industry. So many of the children help out the family means by
+picking cranberries in the fall that school, until the picking season
+was over, would be slimly attended.
+
+The last week in September found us all discussing the coming of the new
+downstairs teacher, Miss Phoebe Dawes. Since it was definitely settled
+that she was to come, the opposition had died down and was less
+openly expressed; but it was there, all the same, beneath the surface.
+Congressman Atkins had accepted the surprising defiance of his wish with
+calm dignity and the philosophy of the truly great who are not troubled
+by trifles. His lieutenant, Tad Simpson, quoted him as saying that, of
+course, the will of the school committee was paramount, and he, as all
+good citizens should, bowed to their verdict. “Far be it from me,” so
+the great man proclaimed, “to desire that my opinion should carry more
+weight than that of the humblest of my friends and neighbors. Speaking
+as one whose knowledge of the world was, perhaps--er--more extensive
+than--er--others, I favored the Normal School candidate. But the persons
+chosen to select thought--or appeared to think--otherwise. I therefore
+say nothing and await developments.”
+
+This attitude was considered by most of us to reflect credit upon Mr.
+Atkins. There were a few scoffers, however. When the proclamation was
+repeated to Captain Cy he smiled.
+
+“Alpheus,” he said to Mr. Smalley, his informant, “you didn't use to
+know Deacon Zeb Clark, who lived up by the salt works in my granddad's
+time, hey? No, course you didn't! Well, the deacon was a great believer
+in his own judgment. One time, it bein' Saturday, his wife wanted him to
+pump the washtub full and take a bath. He said, no; said the cistern
+was awful low and 'twould use up all the water. She said no such thing;
+there was water a-plenty. To prove she was wrong he went and pried the
+cistern cover off to look, and fell in. Mrs. Clark peeked down and saw
+him there, standin' up to his neck.
+
+“'Tabby,' says he, 'you would have your way and I'm takin' the bath.
+But you can see for yourself that we'll have to cart water from now on.
+However, _I_ ain't responsible; throw me down the soap and towel.'”
+
+“Humph!” grunted Smalley, “I don't see what that's got to do with it.
+Heman ain't takin' no bath.”
+
+“I don't know's it's got anything to do with it. But he kind of made me
+think of Zeb, all the same.”
+
+The first day of school was, of course, a Monday. On Sunday afternoon
+Captain Cy and Bos'n went for a walk. These walks had become a regular
+part of the Sabbath programme, the weather, of course, permitting. After
+church the pair came home for dinner. The meal being eaten, the captain
+would light a cigar--a pipe was now hardly “dressed-up” enough for
+Sunday--and, taking his small partner by the hand, would lead the way
+across the fields, through the pines and down by the meadow “short
+cut” to the cemetery. The cemetery is a favorite Sabbath resort for the
+natives of Bayport, who usually speak of it as the graveyard. It is a
+pleasant, shady spot, and to visit it is considered quite respectable
+and in keeping with the day and a due regard for decorum. The ungodly,
+meaning the summer boarders and the village no-accounts, seem to
+prefer the beach and the fish houses, but the cemetery attracts the
+churchgoers. One may gossip concerning the probable cost of a new
+tombstone and still remain faithful to the most rigid creed.
+
+Captain Cy was not, strictly speaking, a religious man, according to
+Bayport standards. Between his attendance to churchly duties and that of
+the Honorable Heman Atkins there was a great gulf fixed. But he rather
+liked to visit the graveyard on Sunday afternoons. His mother had been
+used to stroll there with him, in his boyhood, and it pleased him to
+follow in her footsteps.
+
+So he and Bos'n walked along the grass-covered paths, between the
+iron-fenced “lots” of the well-to-do and the humble mounds and simple
+slabs where the poor were sleeping; past the sumptuous granite shaft of
+the Atkins lot and the tilted mossy stone which told how “Edwin Simpson,
+our only son,” had been “accidentally shot in the West Indies”; out
+through the back gate and up the hill to the pine grove overlooking the
+bay. Here, on a scented carpet of pine needles, they sat them down to
+rest and chat.
+
+Emily, her small knees drawn up and encircled by her arms, looked out
+across the flats, now half covered with the rising tide. It was a mild
+day, more like August than October, and there was almost no wind. The
+sun was shining on the shallow water, and the sand beneath it showed
+yellow, checkered and marbled with dark green streaks and patches where
+the weed-bordered channels wound tortuously. On the horizon the sand
+hills of Wellmouth notched the blue sky. The girl drew a long breath.
+
+“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Isn't this just lovely! I do like the sea an awful
+lot.”
+
+“That's natural enough,” replied her companion. “There's a big streak
+of salt water in your blood on your ma's side. It pulls, that kind of a
+streak does. There's days when I feel uneasy every minute and hanker for
+a deck underneath me. The settin' room floor stays altogether too quiet
+on a day like that; I'd like to feel it heavin' over a ground swell.”
+
+“Say, Bos'n,” he said a few minutes later; “I've been thinkin' about
+you. You've been to school, haven't you?”
+
+“Course I have,” was the rather indignant answer. “I went two years in
+Concord. Mamma used to help me nights, too. I can read almost all the
+little words. Don't I help you read your paper 'most every night?”
+
+“Sartin you do! Yes, yes! Well, our school opens to-morrer and I've been
+thinkin' that maybe you'd better go. There's a new teacher comin', and I
+hear she's pretty good.”
+
+“Don't you KNOW? Why, Mr. Tidditt said you was the one that got her to
+come here!”
+
+“Yes; well, Asaph says 'most everything but his prayers. Still, he ain't
+fur off this time; I cal'late I was some responsible for her bein' voted
+in. Yet I don't really know anything about her. You see, I--well, never
+mind. What do you think? Want to go?”
+
+Bos'n looked troubled.
+
+“I'd like to,” she said. “Course I want to learn how to read the big
+words, too. But I like to stay at home with you more.”
+
+“You do, hey? Sho, sho! Well, I guess I can get along between times.
+Georgiana's there to keep me straight and she'll see to the dust and the
+dishes. I guess you'd better go to-morrer mornin' and see how you like
+it, anyhow.”
+
+The child thought for a moment.
+
+“I think you're awful good,” she said. “I like you next to mamma; even
+better than Auntie Oliver. I printed a letter to her the other day. I
+told her you were better than we expected and I had decided to live with
+you always.”
+
+Captain Cy was startled. Considering that, only the day before, he
+had repeated to Bailey the declaration that the arrangement was but
+temporary, and that Betsy Howes was escaping responsibility only for a
+month or so, he scarcely knew what to say.
+
+“Humph!” he grunted. “You've decided it, have you? Well, we'll see. Now
+you trot around and have a good time. I'm goin' to have another smoke.
+I'll be here when you get back.”
+
+Bos'n wandered off in search of late golden rod. The captain smoked and
+meditated. By and by the puffs were less frequent and the cigar went
+out. It fell from his fingers. With his back against a pine tree Captain
+Cy dozed peacefully.
+
+He awoke with a jump. Something had awakened him, but he did not know
+what. He blinked and gazed about him. Then he heard a faint scream.
+
+“Uncle!” screamed Bos'n. “O--o--o--h! Uncle Cyrus, help me! Come quick!”
+
+The next moment the captain was plunging through the scrub of
+huckleberry and bayberry bushes, bumping into pines and smashing the
+branches aside as he ran in the direction of the call.
+
+Back of the pine grove was a big inclosed pasture nearly a quarter of
+a mile long. Its rear boundary was the iron fence of the cemetery. The
+other three sides were marked by rail fences and a stone wall. As the
+captain floundered from the grove and vaulted the rail fence he swore
+aloud.
+
+“By the big dipper,” he groaned, “it's that cussed heifer! I forgot her.
+Keep dodgin', Bos'n girl! I'm comin'.”
+
+The pasture was tenanted by a red and white cow belonging to Sylvanus
+Cahoon. Whether or not the animal had, during her calfhood days, been
+injured by a woman is not known; possibly her behavior was due merely
+to innate depravity. At any rate, she cherished a mortal hatred toward
+human beings of her own sex. With men and boys she was meek enough, but
+no person wearing skirts, and alone, might venture in that field without
+being chased by that cow. What would happen if the pursued one was
+caught could only be surmised, for, so far, no female had permitted
+herself to be caught. Few would come even so near as the other side of
+the pasture walls.
+
+Bos'n had forgotten the cow. She had gone from one golden-rod clump to
+another until she had traversed nearly the length of the field. Then the
+vicious creature had appeared from behind a knoll in the pasture and,
+head down and bellowing wickedly, had rushed upon her. When the captain
+reached the far-off fence, the little girl was dodging from one dwarf
+pine to the next, with the cow in pursuit. The pines were few and Bos'n
+was nearly at the end of her defenses.
+
+“Help!” she screamed. “Oh, uncle, where are you? What shall I do?”
+
+Captain Cy roared in answer.
+
+“Keep it up!” he yelled. “I'm a-comin'! Shoot you everlastin' critter!
+I'll break your back for you!”
+
+The cow didn't understand English it seemed, even such vigorous English
+as the captain was using. Emily dodged to the last pine. The animal was
+close upon her. Her rescuer was still far away.
+
+And then the cemetery gate opened and another person entered the
+pasture. A small person--a woman. She said nothing, but picking up her
+skirts, ran straight toward the cow, heedless of the latter's reputation
+and vicious appearance. One hand clutched the gathered skirts. In the
+other she held a book.
+
+“Don't be scared, dear,” she called reassuringly. Then to the cow: “Stop
+it! Go away, you wicked thing!”
+
+The animal heard the voice and turned. Seeing that the newcomer was only
+a woman, she lowered her head and pawed the ground.
+
+“Run for the gate, little girl,” commanded the rescuer. “Run quick!”
+ Bos'n obeyed. She made a desperate dash from her pine across the open
+space, and in another moment was safe inside the cemetery fence.
+
+“Scat! Go home!” ordered the lady, advancing toward the cow and shaking
+the book at her, as if the volume was some sort of deadly weapon.
+“Aren't you ashamed of yourself! Go away! You needn't growl at me! I'm
+not a bit afraid of you.”
+
+The “growling” was the muttered bellow with which the cow was wont
+to terrorize her feminine victims. But this victim refused to be
+terrorized. Instead of screaming and running she continued to advance,
+brandishing the book and repeating her orders that the creature “go
+home” at once. The cow did not know what to make of it. Before she could
+decide whether to charge or retreat, a good-sized stick descended
+upon her back with a “whack” that settled the question. Captain Cy had
+reached the scene of battle.
+
+Then the rescuer's courage seemed to desert her, for she ran back to
+the cemetery even faster than she had run from it. When the indignant
+captain, having pursued and chastised the cow until the stick was but
+a splintered remnant, reached the haven behind the iron fence, he found
+her soothing the frightened Bos'n who was sobbing and hysterical.
+
+Emily saw her “Uncle Cyrus” coming and rushed into his arms. He picked
+her up and, holding her with a grip which testified to the nerve strain
+he had been under, stepped forward to meet the stranger, whose coming
+had been so opportune.
+
+And she WAS a stranger. The captain knew most of Bayport's inhabitants
+by this time, or thought he did, but he did not know her. She was a
+small woman, quietly dressed, and her hair, under a neat black and white
+hat, was brown. The hat was now a trifle to one side and the hair was
+the least bit disarranged, an effect not at all unbecoming. She was
+tucking in the stray wisps as the captain, with Bos'n in his arms, came
+up.
+
+“Well, ma'am!” puffed Captain Cy. “WELL, ma'am! I must say that was
+the slickest, pluckiest thing ever I saw anywheres. I don't know what
+would--I--I declare I don't know how to thank you.”
+
+The lady looked at him a moment before replying. Then she began to
+laugh, a jolly laugh that was pleasant to hear.
+
+“Don't try, please,” she said chokingly. “It wasn't anything. Oh, mercy
+me! I'm all out of breath. You see, I had been warned about that cow
+when I started to walk this afternoon. So when I saw her chasing your
+poor little girl here I knew right away what was the matter. It must
+have been foolish enough to look at. I'm used to dogs and cats, but I
+haven't had many pet cows. I told her to 'go home' and to 'scat' and
+all sorts of things. Wonder I didn't tell her to lie down! And the way I
+shook that ridiculous book at her was--”
+
+She laughed again and the captain and Bos'n joined in the laugh, in
+spite of the fright they both had experienced.
+
+“That book was dry enough to frighten almost anything,” continued the
+lady. “It was one I took from the table before I left the place where
+I'm staying, and a duller collection of sermons I never saw. Oh, dear!
+. . . there! Is my hat any more respectable now?”
+
+“Yes'm. It's about on an even keel, I should say. But I must tell you,
+ma'am, you done simply great and--”
+
+“Seems to me the people who own that cow must be a poor set to let her
+make such a nuisance of herself. Did your daughter run away from you?”
+
+“Well, you see, ma'am, she ain't really my daughter. Bos'n here--that's
+my nickname for her, ma'am--she and I was out walkin'. I set down in the
+pines and I guess I must have dozed off. Anyhow, when I woke up she was
+gone, and the first thing I knew of this scrape was hearin' her hail.”
+
+The little woman's manner changed. Her gray eyes flashed indignantly.
+
+“You dozed off?” she repeated. “With a little girl in your charge, and
+in the very next lot to that cow? Didn't you know the creature chased
+women and girls?”
+
+“Why, yes; I'd heard of it, but--”
+
+“It wasn't Uncle Cyrus's fault,” put in Bos'n eagerly. “It was mine. I
+went away by myself.”
+
+Beyond shifting her gaze to the child the lady paid no attention to this
+remark.
+
+“What do you think her mother 'll say when she sees that dress?” she
+asked.
+
+It was Emily's best gown, the finest of the new “rig out” prepared by
+Miss Taylor. The girl and Captain Cy gazed ruefully at the rents and
+pitch stains made by the vines and pine trees.
+
+“Well, you see,” replied the abashed captain, “the fact is, she ain't
+got any mother.”
+
+“Oh! I beg your pardon. And hers, too, poor dear. Well, if I were you I
+shouldn't go to sleep next time I took her walking. Good afternoon.”
+
+She turned and calmly walked down the path. At the bend she spoke again.
+
+“I should be gentle with her, if I were you,” she said. “Her nerves are
+pretty well upset. Besides, if you'll excuse my saying so, I don't think
+she is the one that needs scolding.”
+
+They thought she had gone, but she turned once more to add a final
+suggestion.
+
+“I think that dress could be fixed,” she said, “if you took it to some
+one who knew about such things.”
+
+She disappeared amidst the graveyard shrubbery. Captain Cy and Bos'n
+slowly followed her. From the pasture the red and white cow sent after
+them a broken-spirited “Moo!”
+
+Bos'n was highly indignant. During the homeward walk she sputtered like
+a damp firecracker.
+
+“The idea of her talking so to you, Uncle Cyrus!” she exclaimed. “It
+wasn't your fault at all.”
+
+The captain smiled one-sidedly.
+
+“I don't know about that, shipmate,” he said. “I wouldn't wonder if she
+was more than half right. But say! she was all business and no frills,
+wasn't she! Ha, ha! How she did spunk up to that heifer! Who in the
+dickens do you cal'late she is?”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE “COW LADY”
+
+
+That question was answered the very next day. Bos'n, carefully dressed
+by Georgianna under the captain's supervision, and weighted down with
+advice and counsel from the latter, started for the schoolhouse at a
+quarter to nine. Only a sense of shame kept Captain Cy from walking
+to school with her. He spent a miserable forenoon. They were quite the
+longest three hours in his varied experience. The house was dreadfully
+lonely. He wandered from kitchen to sitting room, worried Georgianna,
+woke up the cat, and made a complete nuisance of himself. Twelve o'clock
+found him leaning over the gate and looking eagerly in the direction of
+the schoolhouse.
+
+Bos'n ran all the way home. She was in a high state of excitement.
+
+“What do you think, Uncle Cyrus?” she cried. “What DO you think? I've
+found out who the cow lady is!”
+
+“The cow lady? Oh, yes, yes! Have you? Who is she?”
+
+“She's teacher, that's who she is!”
+
+The captain was astonished.
+
+“No!” he exclaimed. “Phoebe Dawes? You don't say so! Well, well!”
+
+“Yes, sir. When I went into school and found her sitting there I was
+so surprised I didn't know what to do. She knew me, too, and said good
+morning, and was I all right again and was my dress really as bad as it
+looked to be? I told her that Georgianna thought she could fix it, and
+if she couldn't, her sister could. She said that was nice, and then
+'twas time for school to begin.”
+
+“Did she say anything about me?” inquired Captain Cy when they were
+seated at the dinner table.
+
+“Oh, yes! I forgot. She must have found out who you are, 'cause she said
+she was surprised that a man who had made his money out of hides should
+have been so careless about the creatures that wore 'em.”
+
+“Humph! How'd she get along with the young ones in school?”
+
+It appeared that she had gotten along very well with them. Some of the
+bigger boys in the back seats, cherishing pleasant memories of the “fun”
+ they had under Miss Seabury's easy-going rule, attempted to repeat their
+performances of the previous term. But the very first “spitball” which
+spattered upon the blackboard proved a disastrous missile for its
+thrower.
+
+“She made him clean the board,” proclaimed Bos'n, big-eyed and
+awestruck, “and then he had to stand in the corner. He was Bennie
+Edwards, and he's most thirteen. Miss Seabury, they said, couldn't do
+anything with him, but teacher said 'Go,' as quiet as could be and just
+looked at him, and he went. And he's most as tall as she is. He did look
+so silly!”
+
+The Edwards youth was not the only one who was made to “look silly”
+ by little Miss Dawes during the first days of her stay in Bayport. She
+dealt with the unruly members of her classes as bravely as she had
+faced the Cahoon cow, and the results were just as satisfactory. She
+was strict, but she was impartial, and Alicia Atkins found, to her great
+surprise, that the daughter of a congressman was expected to study as
+faithfully and behave herself as well as freckled-faced Noah Hamlin,
+whose father peddled fish and whose everyday costume was a checkered
+“jumper” and patched overalls.
+
+The school committee, that is, the majority of it, was delighted with
+the new teacher. Lemuel Myrick boasted loudly of his good judgment
+in voting for her. But Tad Simpson and Darius Ellis and others of the
+Atkins following still scoffed and hinted at trouble in the future.
+
+“A new broom sweeps fine,” quoted Mr. Simpson. “She's doin' all
+right now, maybe. Anyway, the young ones are behavin' themselves, but
+disCIPline ain't the whole thing. Heman told me that the teacher he
+wanted could talk French language and play music and all kinds
+of accomplishments. Phoebe--not findin' any fault with her, you
+understand--don't know no more about music than a hen; my wife says she
+don't even sing in church loud enough for anybody to hear her. And as
+for French! why everybody knows she uses the commonest sort of United
+States, just as easy to understand as what I'm sayin' now.”
+
+Miss Dawes boarded at the perfect boarding house. There opinion was
+divided concerning her. Bailey and Mr. Tidditt liked her, but the
+feminine boarders were not so favorably impressed.
+
+“I think she's altogether too pert about what don't concern her,”
+ commented Angeline Phinney. “Sarah Emma Simpson dropped in t'other
+day to dinner, and we church folks got to talkin' about the minister's
+preachin' such 'advanced' sermons. And Sarah Emma told how she'd heard
+he said he'd known some real moral Universalists in his time, or some
+such unreligious foolishness. And I said I wondered he didn't get a new
+tail coat; the one he preached in Sundays was old as the hills and so
+outgrown it wouldn't scurcely button acrost him. 'A man bein' paid
+nine hundred a year,' I says, 'ought to dress decent, anyhow.' And that
+Phoebe Dawes speaks up, without bein' asked, and says for her part she'd
+ruther hear a broad man in a narrer coat than t'other way about. 'Twas a
+regular slap in the face for me, and Sarah Emma and I ain't got over it
+yet.”
+
+Captain Cy heard the gossip concerning the new teacher and it rather
+pleased him. She appeared to be independent, and he liked independence.
+He met her once or twice on the street, but she merely bowed and passed
+on. Once he tried to thank her again for her part in the cow episode,
+but she would not listen to him.
+
+Bos'n was making good progress with her studies. She was naturally a
+bright child--not the marvel the captain and the “Board of Strategy”
+ considered her, but quick to learn. She was not a saint, however, and
+occasionally misbehaved in school and was punished for it. One afternoon
+she did not return at her usual hour. Captain Cy was waiting at the gate
+when Asaph Tidditt happened along. Bailey, too, was with him.
+
+“Waitin' for Bos'n, was you?” asked the town clerk. “Well, you'll have
+to wait quite a spell, I cal'late. She's been kept after school.”
+
+“Yes; and she's got to write fifty lines of copy,” added Bailey.
+
+Captain Cy was highly indignant.
+
+“Get out!” he cried. “She ain't neither.”
+
+“Yes, she has, too. One of the Salters young ones told me. I knew you'd
+be mad, though I s'pose folks that didn't know her's well's we do would
+say she's no different from other children.”
+
+This was close to heresy, according to the captain's opinion.
+
+“She ain't!” he cried. “I'd like to know why not! If she ain't twice as
+smart as the run of young ones 'round here then--Humph! And she's
+kept after school! Well, now; I won't have it! There's enough time for
+studyin' without wearin' out her brains after hours. Oh, I guess you're
+mistaken.”
+
+“No, we ain't. I tell you, Whit, if I was you I'd make a fuss about
+this. She's a smart child, Bos'n is; I never see a smarter. And she
+ain't any too strong.”
+
+“That's so, she ain't.” The idea that Emily's health was “delicate” had
+become a fixed fact in the minds of the captain and the “Board.” It made
+a good excuse for the systematic process of “spoiling” the girl, which
+the indulgent three were doing their best to carry on.
+
+“I wouldn't let her be kept, Cy,” urged Bailey. “Why don't you go right
+off and see Phoebe and settle this thing? You've got a right to talk to
+her. She wouldn't be teacher if it wasn't for you.”
+
+Asaph added his arguments to those of Mr. Bangs. Captain Cy, carried
+away by his firm belief that Bos'n was a paragon of all that was
+brilliant and good, finally yielded.
+
+“All right!” he exclaimed. “Come on! That poor little thing shan't be
+put upon by nobody.”
+
+The trio marched majestically down the hill. As they neared the
+schoolhouse Bailey's courage began to fail. Miss Dawes was a boarder
+at his house, and he feared consequences should Keturah learn of his
+interference.
+
+“I--I guess you don't need me,” he stammered. “The three of us 'll scare
+that teacher woman most to death. And she's so little and meek, you
+know. If I should lose my temper and rare up I might say somethin' that
+would hurt her feelin's. I'll set on the fence and wait for you and Ase,
+Whit.”
+
+Mr. Tidditt's scornful comments concerning “white feathers” and
+“backsliders” had no effect. Mr. Bangs perched himself on the fence.
+
+“Give it to her, fellers!” he called after them.
+
+“Talk Dutch to her! Let her know that there's one child she can't
+abuse.”
+
+At the foot of the steps Asaph paused.
+
+“Say, Cy,” he whispered, “don't you think I better not go in? It ain't
+really my business, you know, and--and--Well, I'm on the s'lectmen and
+she might be frightened if she see me pouncin' down on her. 'Tain't as
+if I was just a common man. I'll go and set along of Bailey and you go
+in and talk quiet to her. She'd feel so sort of ashamed if there was
+anyone else to hear the rakin' over--hey?”
+
+“Now, see here, Ase,” expostulated the captain, “I don't like to do this
+all by myself! Besides, 'twas you chaps put me up to it. You ain't goin'
+to pull out of the race and leave me to go over the course alone, are
+you? Come on! what are, you afraid of?”
+
+His companion hotly denied that he was “afraid” of anything. He had
+all sorts of arguments to back his decision. At last Captain Cy lost
+patience.
+
+“Well, BE a skulk, if you want to!” he declared. “I've set out to see
+this thing through, and I'm goin' to do it. Only,” he muttered, as he
+entered the downstairs vestibule, “I wish I didn't feel quite so much as
+if I was stealin' hens' eggs.”
+
+Miss Dawes herself opened the door in response to his knock.
+
+“Oh, it's you, Cap'n Whittaker,” she said. “Come in, please.”
+
+Captain Cy entered the schoolroom. It was empty, save for the teacher
+and himself and one little girl, who, seated at a desk, was writing
+busily. She looked up and blushed a vivid red. The little girl was
+Bos'n.
+
+“Sit down, Cap'n,” said Miss Phoebe, indicating the visitor's chair.
+“What was it you wanted to see me about?”
+
+The captain accepted the invitation to be seated, but he did not
+immediately reply to Miss Dawes's question. He dropped his hat on the
+floor, crossed his legs, uncrossed them, and then observed that it was
+pretty summery weather for so late in the fall. The teacher admitted the
+truth of his assertion and waited for him to continue.
+
+“I--I s'pose school's pretty full, now that cranb'ryin' 's over,” said
+Captain Cy.
+
+“Yes, pretty full.”
+
+“Gettin' along first rate with the scholars, I hear.”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+This was a most unpromising beginning, really no beginning at all. The
+captain cleared his throat, set his teeth, and, without looking at his
+companion, dove headlong into the business which had brought him there.
+
+“Miss Dawes,” he said, “I--I s'pose you know that Bos'n--I mean Emily
+there--is livin' at my house and that I'm taking care of her for--for
+the present.”
+
+The lady smiled.
+
+“Yes,” she said. “I gathered as much from what you said when we first
+met.”
+
+She herself had said one or two things on that occasion. Captain Cy
+remembered them distinctly.
+
+“Yes, yes,” he said hastily. “Well, my doin's that time wasn't exactly
+the best sample of the care, I will say. Wan't even a fair sample,
+maybe. I try to do my best with the child, long as she stays with me,
+and--er--and--er--I'm pretty particular about her health.”
+
+“I'm glad to hear it.”
+
+“Yes. Now, Miss Phoebe, I appreciate what you did for Bos'n and me that
+Sunday, and I'm thankful for it. I've tried to thank--”
+
+“I know. Please don't say any more about it. I imagine there is
+something else you want to say, isn't there?”
+
+“Why, yes, there is. I--I heard that Emmie had been kept after school. I
+didn't believe it, of course, but I thought I'd run up and see what--”
+
+He hesitated. The teacher finished the sentence for him.
+
+“To see if it was true?” she said. “It is. I told her to stay and write
+fifty lines.”
+
+“You did? Well, now that's what I wanted to speak to you about. Course
+I ain't interferin' in your affairs, you know, but I just wanted to
+explain about Bos'n--Emmie, I mean. She ain't a common child; she's got
+too much head for the rest of her. If you'd lived with her same as I
+have you'd appreciate it. Her health's delicate.”
+
+“Is it? She seems strong enough to me. I haven't noticed any symptoms.”
+
+“Course not, else you wouldn't have kept her in. But _I_ know, and I
+think it's my duty to tell you. Never mind if she can't do quite so
+much writin'. I'd rather she wouldn't; she might bust a blood vessel
+or somethin'. Such things HAVE happened, to extry smart young ones. You
+just let her trot along home with me now and--”
+
+“Cap'n Whittaker,” Miss Dawes had risen to her feet with a determined
+expression on her face.
+
+“Yes, ma'am,” said the captain, rising also.
+
+“Cap'n Whittaker,” repeated the teacher, “I'm very glad that you called.
+I've been rather expecting you might, because of certain things I have
+heard.”
+
+“You heard? What was it you heard--if you don't mind my askin'?”
+
+“No, I don't, because I think we must have an understanding about Emily.
+I have heard that you allow her to do as she pleases at home; in other
+words, that you are spoiling her, and--”
+
+“SPOILIN' her! _I_ spoilin' her? Who told you such an unlikely yarn as
+that? I ain't the kind to spoil anybody. Why, I'm so strict that I'm
+ashamed of myself sometimes.”
+
+He honestly believed he was. Miss Phoebe calmly continued.
+
+“Of course, what you do at home is none of my business. I shouldn't
+mention it anyhow, if you hadn't called, because I pay very little
+attention to town talk, having lived in this county all my life and
+knowing what gossip amounts to. I like Emily; she's a pretty good little
+girl and well behaved, as children go. But this you must understand. She
+can't be spoiled here. She whispered this afternoon, twice. She has been
+warned often, and knows the rule. I kept her after school because she
+broke that rule, and if she breaks it again, she will be punished again.
+I kept the Edwards boy two hours yesterday and--”
+
+“Edwards boy! Do you mean to compare that--that young rip of a Ben
+Edwards with a girl like Bos'n? I never heard--”
+
+“I'm not comparing anybody. I'm trying to be fair to every scholar in
+this room. And, so long as Emily behaves herself, she shall be
+treated accordingly. When she doesn't, she shall be punished. You must
+understand that.”
+
+“But Ben Edwards! Why, he's a wooden-head, same as his dad was a fore
+him! And Emmie's the smartest scholar in this town.”
+
+“Oh, no, she isn't! She's a good scholar, but there are others just as
+good and even quicker to learn.”
+
+This was piling one insult upon another. Other children as brilliant as
+Bos'n! Captain Cy was bursting with righteous indignation.
+
+“Well!” he exclaimed. “Well! for a teacher that we've called to--”
+
+“And that's another thing,” broke in Miss Dawes quickly. “I've been told
+that you, Cap'n Whittaker, are the one directly responsible for my
+being chosen for this place. I don't say that you are presuming on that,
+but--”
+
+“I ain't! I never thought of such a thing!”
+
+“But if you are you mustn't, that's all. I didn't ask for the position
+and, now that I've got it, I shall try to fill it without regard to one
+person more than another. Emily stays here until her lines are written.
+I don't think we need to say any more. Good day.”
+
+She opened the door. Captain Cy picked up his hat, swallowed hard, and
+stepped across the threshold. Then Miss Phoebe added one more remark.
+
+“Cap'n,” she said, “when you were in command of a ship did you allow
+outsiders to tell you how to treat the sailors?”
+
+The captain opened his mouth to reply. He wanted to reply very much, but
+somehow he couldn't find a satisfying answer to that question.
+
+“Ma'am,” he said, “all I can say is that if you'd been in South America,
+same as I have, and seen the way them half-breed young ones act,
+you'd--”
+
+The teacher smiled, in spite of an apparent effort not to.
+
+“Perhaps so,” she said, “but this is Massachusetts. And--well, Emily
+isn't a half-breed.”
+
+Captain Cy strode through the vestibule. Just before the door closed
+behind him he heard a stifled sob from poor Bos'n.
+
+The Board of Strategy was waiting at the end of the yard. Its members
+were filled with curiosity.
+
+“Did you give it to her good?” demanded Asaph. “Did you let her
+understand we wouldn't put up with such cruelizin'?”
+
+“Where's Bos'n?” asked Mr. Bangs.
+
+Their friend's answers were brief and tantalizingly incomplete. He
+walked homeward at a gait which caused plump little Bailey to puff
+in his efforts to keep up, and he would say almost nothing about the
+interview in the schoolroom.
+
+“Well,” said Mr. Tidditt, when they reached the Whittaker gate, “I guess
+she knows her place now; hey, Cy? I cal'late she'll be careful who she
+keeps after school from now on.”
+
+“Didn't use no profane language, did you, Cy?” asked Bailey. “I hope
+not, 'cause she might have you took up just out of spite. Did she ask
+your pardon for her actions?”
+
+“No!” roared the captain savagely. Then, banging the gate behind him, he
+strode up the yard and into the house.
+
+Bos'n came home a half hour later. Captain Cy was alone in the sitting
+room, seated in his favorite rocker and moodily staring at nothing in
+particular. The girl gazed at him for a moment and then climbed into his
+lap.
+
+“I wrote my fifty lines, Uncle Cyrus,” she said. “Teacher said I'd done
+them very nicely, too.”
+
+The captain grunted.
+
+“Uncle Cy,” whispered Bos'n, putting her arms around his neck, “I'm
+awful sorry I was so bad.”
+
+“Bad? Who--you? You couldn't be bad if you wanted to. Don't talk that
+way or I'll say somethin' I hadn't ought to.”
+
+“Yes, I could be bad, too. I was bad. I whispered.”
+
+“Whispered! What of it? That ain't nothin'. When I was a young one in
+school I used to whis-- . . . Hum! Well, anyhow, don't you think any
+more about it. 'Tain't worth while.”
+
+They rocked quietly for a time. Then Bos'n said:
+
+“Uncle Cyrus, don't you like teacher?”
+
+“Hey? LIKE her? Well, if that ain't a question? Yes, I like her about as
+well as Lonesome likes Eben Salter's dog.”
+
+“I'm sorry. I like her ever so much.”
+
+“You DO? Go 'long! After the way she treated you, poor little thing!”
+
+“She didn't treat me any worse than she does the other girls and boys
+when they're naughty. And I did know the rule about whispering.”
+
+“Well, that's different. Comparin' you with that Bennie Edwards--the
+idea! And then makin' you cry!”
+
+“She didn't make me cry.”
+
+“Did, too. I heard you.”
+
+The child looked up at him and then hid her face in his waistcoat.
+
+“I wasn't crying about her,” she whispered. “It was you.”
+
+“ME!” The captain gasped. “Good land!” he muttered. “It's just as I
+expected. She's studied too hard and it's touchin' her brain.”
+
+“No, sir, it isn't. It isn't truly. I did cry about you because I didn't
+like to hear you talk so. And I was so sorry to have you come there.”
+
+“You WAS!”
+
+“Yes, sir. Other children's folks don't come when they're bad. And I
+kept feeling so sort of ashamed of you.”
+
+“Ashamed of ME?”
+
+Bos'n nodded vigorously.
+
+“Yes, sir. Everything teacher said sounded so right, and what you said
+didn't. And I like to have you always right.”
+
+“Do, hey? Hum!” Captain Cy didn't speak again for some few minutes, but
+he held the little girl very tight in his arms. At length he drew a long
+breath.
+
+“By the big dipper, Bos'n!” he exclaimed. “You're a wonder, you are.
+I wouldn't be surprised if you grew up to be a mind reader, like that
+feller in the show we went to at the townhall a spell ago. To tell you
+the honest Lord's truth, I've been ashamed of myself ever since I come
+out of that schoolhouse door. When that teacher woman sprung that on me
+about my fo'mast hands aboard ship I was set back about forty fathom. I
+never wanted to answer anybody so bad in MY life, and I couldn't 'cause
+there wasn't anything to say. I cal'late I've made a fool of myself.”
+
+Bos'n nodded again.
+
+“We won't do so any more, will we?” she said.
+
+“You bet we won't! _I_ won't, anyhow. You haven't done anything.”
+
+“And you'll like teacher?”
+
+The captain stamped his foot.
+
+“No, SIR!” he declared. “She may be all right in her way--I s'pose she
+is; but it's too Massachusettsy a way for me. No, sir! I don't like her
+and I WON'T like her. No, sir-ee, never! She--she ain't my kind of a
+woman,” he added stubbornly. “That's what's the matter! She ain't my
+kind of a woman.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+POLITICS AND BIRTHDAYS
+
+
+“Town meeting” was called for the twenty-first of November.
+
+With the summer boarders gone, the cranberry picking finished, state
+election over, school begun and under way, and real winter not yet upon
+us, Bayport, in the late fall, distinctly needs something to enliven
+it. The Shakespeare Reading Society and the sewing circle continue, of
+course, to interest the “women folks,” there is the usual every evening
+gathering at Simmons's, and the young people are looking forward to the
+“Grand Ball” on Thanksgiving eve. But for the men, on week days,
+there is little to do except to “putter” about the house, banking
+its foundations with dry seaweed as a precaution against searching
+no'theasters, whitewashing the barns and outbuildings, or fixing things
+in the vegetable cellar where the sticks of smoked herring hang in rows
+above the barrels of cabbages, potatoes, and turnips. The fish weirs,
+most of them, are taken up, lest the ice, which will be driven into the
+bay later on, tear the nets to pieces. Even the hens grow lazy and
+lay less frequently. Therefore, away back in the “airly days,” some
+far-sighted board of selectmen arranged that “town meeting” should be
+held during this lackadaisical season. A town meeting--and particularly
+a Bayport town meeting, where everything from personal affairs to
+religion is likely to be discussed--can stir up excitement when nothing
+else can.
+
+This year there were several questions to be talked over and settled at
+town meeting. Two selectmen, whose terms expired, were candidates for
+re-election. Lem Myrick had resigned from the school committee, not
+waiting until spring, as he had announced that he should do. Then
+there was the usual sentiment in favor of better roads and the usual
+opposition to it. Also there was the ever-present hope of the government
+appropriation for harbor improvement.
+
+Mr. Tidditt was one of the selectmen whose terms expired. In his dual
+capacity as selectman and town clerk Asaph felt himself to be a very
+important personage. To elect some one else in his place would be, he
+was certain, a calamity which would stagger the township. Therefore
+he was a busy man and made many calls upon his fellow citizens, not to
+influence their votes--he was careful to explain that--but just, as
+he said, “to see how they was gettin' along,” and because he
+“thought consider'ble of 'em” and “took a real personal interest, you
+understand,” in their affairs.
+
+To Captain Cy he came, naturally, for encouragement and help, being--as
+was his habit at such times--in a state of gloom and hopeless despair.
+
+“No use, Whit,” he groaned. “'Tain't no use at all. I'm licked. I'm
+gettin' old and they don't want me no more. I guess I'd better get right
+up afore the votin' begins and tell 'em my health ain't strong enough to
+be town clerk no longer. It's better to do that than to be licked. Don't
+you think so?”
+
+“Sure thing!” replied his friend, with sarcasm. “If I was you I'd be
+toted in on a bed so they can see you're all ready for the funeral.
+Might have the doctor walkin' ahead, wipin' his eyes, and the joyful
+undertaker trottin' along astern. What's the particular disease that's
+got you by the collar just now--facial paralysis?”
+
+“No. What made you think of that?”
+
+“Oh, nothin'! Only I heard you stopped in at ten houses up to the west
+end of the town yesterday, and talked three quarters of an hour steady
+at everyone. That would fit me for the scrap heap inside of a week,
+and you've been goin' it ever since September nearly. What does ail
+you--anything?”
+
+“Why, no; nothin' special that way. Only there don't seem to be any
+enthusiasm for me, somehow. I just hint at my bein' a candidate and
+folks say, 'Yes, indeed. Looks like rain, don't it?' and that's about
+all.”
+
+“Well, that hadn't ought to surprise you. If anybody came to me and
+says, 'The sun's goin' to rise to-morrer mornin',' I shouldn't dance
+on my hat and crow hallelujahs. Enthusiasm! Why, Ase, you've been a
+candidate every two years since Noah got the ark off the ways, or along
+there. And there ain't been any opposition to you yet, except that time
+when Uncle 'Bial Stickney woke up in the wrong place and hollered 'No,'
+out of principle, thinkin' he was to home with his wife. If I was you
+I'd go and take a nap. You'll read the minutes at selectmen's meetings
+for another fifty year, more or less; take my word for it. As for the
+school committee, that's different. I ain't made up my mind about that.”
+
+There had been much discussion concerning the school committee. Who
+should be chosen to replace Mr. Myrick on the board was the gravest
+question to come before the meeting. Many names had been proposed at
+Simmons's and elsewhere, but some of those named had refused to run, and
+others had not, after further consideration, seemed the proper persons
+for the office. In the absence of Mr. Atkins, Tad Simpson was our leader
+in the political arena. But Tad so far had been mute.
+
+“Wait a while,” he said. “There's some weeks afore town meetin' day.
+This is a serious business. We can't have no more--I mean no unsuitable
+man to fill such an important place as that. The welfare of our
+posterity,” he added, and we all recognized the quotation, “depends upon
+the choice that's to be made.”
+
+A choice was made, however, on the very next day but one after this
+declaration. A candidate announced himself. Asaph and Bailey hurried
+to the Cy Whittaker place with the news. Captain Cy was in the woodshed
+building a doll house for Bos'n. “Just for my own amusement,” he hastily
+explained. “Somethin' for her to take along when she goes out West to
+Betsy.”
+
+Mr. Tidditt was all smiles.
+
+“What do you think, Cy?” he cried. “The new school committee man's as
+good as elected. 'Lonzo Snow's goin' to take it.”
+
+The captain laid down his plane.
+
+“'Lonzo Snow!” he repeated. “You don't say! Humph! Well, well!”
+
+“Yes, sir!” exclaimed Bailey. “He's come forward and says it's his duty
+to do so. He--”
+
+“Humph! His duty, hey? I wonder who pointed it out to him?”
+
+“Well, I don't know. But even Tad Simpson's glad; he says that he knows
+Heman will be pleased with THAT kind of a candidate and so he won't have
+to do any more huntin'. He thinks 'Lonzo's comin' out by himself this
+way is a kind of special Providence.”
+
+“Yes, yes! I shouldn't wonder. Did you ever notice how dead sure Tad and
+his kind are that Providence is workin' with 'em? Seems to me 'twould
+be more satisfactory if we could get a sight of the other partner's
+signature to the deed.”
+
+“What's the matter with you?” demanded Asaph. “You ain't findin' fault
+with 'Lonzo, are you? Ain't he a good man?”
+
+“Good! Sure thing he's good! Nobody can say he isn't and tell the
+truth.”
+
+No one could truthfully speak ill of Alonzo Snow, that was a fact.
+He lived at the lower end of the village, was well to do, a leading
+cranberry grower, and very prominent in the church. A mild, easygoing
+person was Mr. Snow, with an almost too keen fear of doing the wrong
+thing and therefore prone to be guided by the opinion of others. He was
+distinctly not a politician.
+
+“Then what ails you?” asked Asaph hotly.
+
+“Why, nothin', maybe. Only I'm always suspicious when Tad pats
+Providence on the back. I generally figure that I can see through a
+doughnut, when there's a light behind the hole. Who is 'Lonzo's best
+friend in this town? Who does he chum with most of anybody?”
+
+“Why, Darius Ellis, I guess. You know it.”
+
+“Um--hum. And Darius is on the committee--why?”
+
+“Well, I s'pose 'cause Heman Atkins thought he'd be a good feller to
+have there. But--”
+
+“Yes, and 'Lonzo's pew in church is right under the Atkins memorial
+window. The light from it makes a kind of halo round his bald head every
+Sunday.”
+
+“Well, what of it? Heman, nor nobody else, could buy 'Lonzo Snow.”
+
+“Buy him? Indeed they couldn't. But there are some things you get
+without buyin'--the measles, for instance. And the one that's catchin'
+'em don't know he's in danger till the speckles break out. Fellers, this
+committee voted in Phoebe Dawes by just two votes to one, and one of
+the two was Lem Myrick. Darius was against her. Now with Tad and his
+'Providence' puttin' in 'Lonzo Snow, and Heman Atkins settin' behind
+the screen workin' his Normal School music box so's they can hear the
+tune--well, Phoebe MAY stay this term out, but how about next?”
+
+“Hey? Why, I don't know. Anyhow, you're down on Phoebe as a thousand of
+brick. I don't see why you worry about HER. After the way she treated
+poor Bos'n and all.”
+
+Captain Cy stirred uneasily and kicked a chip across the floor.
+
+“Well,” he said, “well, I--I don't know's that's--That is, right's right
+and wrong's wrong. I've seen bullfights down yonder--” jerking his thumb
+over his shoulder in the vague direction of Buenos Ayres, “and every
+time my sympathy's been with the bull. Not that I loved the critter for
+his own sake, but because all Greaserdom was out to down him. From what
+I hear, this Phoebe Dawes--for all her pesky down-East stubbornness--is
+teachin' pretty well, and anyhow she's one little woman against Tad
+Simpson and Heman Atkins and--and Tad's special brand of Providence. She
+deserves a fair shake and, by the big dipper, she's goin' to have it!
+Look here, you two! how would I look on the school committee?”
+
+“You?” repeated the pair in concert. “YOU?”
+
+“Yes, me. I ain't a Solomon for wisdom, but I cal'late I'd be as near
+the top of the barrel as Darius Ellis, and only one or two layers under
+Eben Salters or 'Lonzo Snow. I'm a candidate--see?”
+
+“But--but, Whit,” gasped the town clerk, “are you popular enough? Could
+you get elected?”
+
+“I don't know, but I can find out. You and Bailey 'll vote for me, won't
+you?”
+
+“Course we will, but--”
+
+“All right. There's two votes. A hundred and odd more'll put me in.
+Here goes for politics and popularity. I may be president yet; you can't
+tell. And say! this town meetin' won't be DULL, whichever way the cat
+jumps.”
+
+This last was a safe prophecy. All dullness disappeared from Bayport the
+moment it became known that Captain Cyrus Whittaker was “out” for the
+school committee. The captain began his electioneering at once. That
+very afternoon he called upon three people--Eben Salters, Josiah Dimick,
+and Lemuel Myrick.
+
+Captain Salters was chairman of selectmen as well as chairman of the
+committee. He was a hard-headed old salt, who had made money in the
+Australian packet service. He had common sense, independence, and
+considerable influence in the town. Next to Congressman Atkins he was,
+perhaps, our leading citizen. And, more than all, he was not afraid,
+when he thought it necessary, to oppose the great Heman.
+
+“Well,” he said reflectively, after listening to Captain Cy's brief
+statement of his candidacy, “I cal'late I'll stand in with you, Cy. I
+ain't got anything against 'Lonzo, but--but--well, consarn it! maybe
+that's the trouble. Maybe he's so darned good it makes me jealous.
+Anyhow, I'll do what I can for you.”
+
+Joe Dimick laughed aloud. He was an iconoclast, seldom went to church,
+and was entirely lacking in reverence. Also he really liked the captain.
+
+“Ho, ho!” he crowed. “Whit, do you realize that you're underminin' this
+town's constitution? Oh, sartin, I'm with you, if it's only to see the
+fur fly! I do love a scrap.”
+
+With Lem Myrick Captain Cy's policy was different. He gently reminded
+that gentleman of the painting contract, intimated that other favors
+might be forthcoming, and then, as a clincher, spoke of Tad Simpson's
+comment when Mr. Myrick voted for Phoebe Dawes.
+
+“Of course,” he added, “if you think Tad's got a right to boss all hands
+and the cook, why, I ain't complainin'. Only, if _I_ was a painter doin'
+a good, high-class trade, and a one-hoss barber tried to dictate to me,
+I shouldn't bow down and tell him to kick easy as he could. Seems to me
+I'd kick first. But I'M no boss; I mustn't influence you.”
+
+Lemuel was indignant.
+
+“No barber runs me,” he declared. “You stand up for me when that
+townhall paintin's to be done and I'll work hard for you now, Cap'n
+Whittaker. 'Lonzo Snow's an elder and all that, but I can't help it.
+Anyway, his place was all fixed up a year ago and I didn't get the job.
+A feller has to look after himself these days.”
+
+With these division commanders to lead their forces into the enemy's
+country and with Asaph and Bailey doing what they could to help, Captain
+Cy's campaign soon became worthy of respectful consideration. For a
+while Tad Simpson scoffed at the opposition; then he began to work
+openly for Mr. Snow. Later he marshaled his trusted officers around the
+pool table in the back room of the barber shop and confided to them that
+it was anybody's fight and that he was worried.
+
+“It's past bein' a joke,” he said. “It's mighty serious. We've got to
+hustle, we have. Heman trusted me in this job, and if I fall down it 'll
+be bad for me and for you fellers, too. I wish he was home to run things
+himself, but he's got business down South there--some property he owns
+or somethin'--and says he can't leave. But we must win! By mighty! we've
+GOT to. So get every vote you can. Never mind how; just get 'em, that's
+all.”
+
+Captain Cy was thoroughly enjoying himself. The struggle suited him to
+perfection. He was young, in spite of his fifty-five years, and this
+tussle against odds, reminding him of other tussles during his first
+seasons in business, aroused his energies and, as he expressed it,
+“stirred up his vitals and made him hop round like a dose of 'pain
+killer.'”
+
+He did not, however, forget Bos'n. He and she had their walks and their
+pleasant evenings together in spite of politics. He took the child into
+his confidence and told her of the daily gain, or loss, in votes, as
+if she were his own age. She understood a little of all this, and tried
+hard to understand the rest, preaching between times to Georgianna how
+“the bad men were trying to beat Uncle Cyrus because he was gooder than
+they, but they couldn't, 'cause everybody loved him so.” Georgianna had
+some doubts, but she kept them to herself.
+
+Among the things in Bos'n's “box” was a long envelope, sealed with wax
+and with a lawyer's name printed in one corner. The captain opened it,
+at Emily's suggestion, and was astonished to find that the inclosure was
+a will, dated some years back, in which Mrs. Mary Thomas, the child's
+mother, left to her daughter all her personal property and also the land
+in Orham, Massachusetts, which had been willed to her by her own mother.
+There was a note with the will in which Mrs. Thomas stated that no one
+save herself had known of this land, not even her husband. She had not
+told him because she feared that, like everything else, it would be
+sold and the money wasted in dissipation. “He suspected something of the
+sort,” she added, “but he did not find out the secret, although he--”
+ She had evidently scratched out what followed, but Captain Cy mentally
+filled in the blank with details of abuse and cruelty. “If anything
+happens to me,” concluded the widow, “I want the land sold and the money
+used for Emily's maintenance as long as it lasts.”
+
+The captain went over to Orham and looked up the land. It was a strip
+along the shore, almost worthless, and unsalable at present. The taxes
+had been regularly paid each year by Mary Thomas, who had sent money
+orders from Concord. The self-denial represented by these orders was not
+a little.
+
+“Never mind, Bos'n,” said Captain Cy, when he returned from the Orham
+trip. “Your ancestral estates ain't much now but a sand-flea menagerie.
+However, if this section ever does get to be the big summer resort folks
+are prophesying for it, you may sell out to some millionaire and you and
+me'll go to Europe. Meantime, we'll try to keep afloat, if the Harniss
+Bank don't spring a leak.”
+
+On the day following this conversation he took a flying trip to Ostable,
+the county seat, returning the same evening, and saying nothing to
+anyone about his reasons for going nor what he had done while there.
+
+Bos'n's birthday was the eighteenth of November. The captain, in spite
+of the warmth of his struggle for committee honors, determined to have a
+small celebration on the afternoon and evening of that day. It was to be
+a surprise for Emily, and, after school was over, some of her particular
+friends among the scholars were to come in, there was to be a cake with
+eight candles on it, and a supper at which ice cream--lemon and vanilla,
+prepared by Mrs. Cahoon--was to be the principal feature. Also there
+would be games and all sorts of fun.
+
+Captain Cy was tremendously interested in the party. He spent hours with
+Georgianna and the Board of Strategy, preparing the list of guests.
+His cunning in ascertaining from the unsuspecting child who, among her
+schoolmates, she would like to invite, was deep and guileful.
+
+“Now, Bos'n,” he would say, “suppose you was goin' to clear out and
+leave this town for a spell, who--”
+
+“But, Uncle Cyrus--” Bos'n's eyes grew frightened and moist in a moment,
+“I ain't going, am I? I don't want to go.”
+
+“No, no! Course you ain't goin'--that is, not for a long while, anyhow,”
+ with a sidelong look at the members of the “Board,” then present. “But
+just suppose you and me was startin' on that Europe trip. Who'd you want
+to say good-by to most of all?”
+
+Each name given by the child was surreptitiously penciled by Bailey on
+a scrap of paper. The list was a long one and, when the great afternoon
+came, the Whittaker house was crowded.
+
+The supper was a brilliant success. So was the cake, brought in with
+candles ablaze, by the grinning Georgianna. Beside the children there
+were some older people present, Bailey and Asaph, of course, and the
+“regulars” from the perfect boarding house, who had been invited because
+it was fairly certain that Mr. Bangs wouldn't be allowed to attend
+if his wife did not. Miss Dawes had also been asked, at Bos'n's
+well-understood partiality, but she had declined.
+
+Toward the end of the meal, when the hilarity at the long table was at
+its height, an unexpected guest made his appearance. There was a knock
+at the dining-room door, and Georgianna, opening it, was petrified to
+behold, standing upon the step, no less a personage than the Honorable
+Heman Atkins, supposed by most of us to be then somewhere in that wide
+stretch of territory vaguely termed “the South.”
+
+“Good evening, all,” said the illustrious one, removing his silk hat
+and stepping into the room. “What a charming scene! I trust I do not
+intrude.”
+
+Georgianna was still speechless, in which unwonted condition she was not
+alone, Messrs. Bangs and Tidditt being also stricken dumb. But Captain
+Cy rose to the occasion grandly.
+
+“Intrude?” he repeated. “Not a mite of it! Mighty glad to see you,
+Heman. Here, give us your hat. Pull up to the table. When did you get
+back? Thought you was in the orange groves somewheres.”
+
+“Ahem! I was. Yes, I was in that neighborhood. But it is hard to stay
+away from dear old Bayport. Home ties, you know, home ties. I came down
+on the morning train, but I stopped over at Harniss on business and
+drove across. Ahem! Yes. The housekeeper informed me that my daughter
+was here, and, seeing the lights and hearing the laughter, I couldn't
+resist making this impromptu call. I'm sure as an old friend and
+neighbor, Cyrus, you will pardon me. Alicia, darling, come and kiss
+papa.”
+
+Darling Alicia accepted the invitation with a rustle of silk and an
+ecstatic squeal of delight. During this affecting scene Asaph whispered
+to Bailey that he “cal'lated” Heman had had a hurry-up distress signal
+from Simpson; to which sage observation Mr. Bangs replied with a
+vigorous nod, showing that Captain Cy's example had had its effect,
+in that they no longer stood in such awe of their representative at
+Washington.
+
+However true Asaph's calculation might have been, Mr. Atkins made no
+mention of politics. He was urbanity itself. He drew up to the table,
+partook of the ice cream and cake, and greeted his friends and neighbors
+with charming benignity.
+
+“Wan't it sweet of him to come?” whispered Miss Phinney to Keturah.
+“And him so nice and everyday and sociable. And when Cap'n Whittaker's
+runnin' against his friend, as you might say.”
+
+Keturah replied with a dubious shake of the head.
+
+“I think Captain Cyrus is goin' to get into trouble,” she said. “I've
+preached to Bailey more 'n a little about keepin' clear, but he won't.”
+
+“Games in t'other room now,” ordered Captain Cy. But Mr. Atkins held up
+his hand.
+
+“Pardon me, just a moment, Cyrus, if you please,” he said. “I feel that
+on this happy occasion, it is my duty and pleasure to propose a toast.”
+ He held his lemonade glass aloft. “Permit me,” he proclaimed, “to wish
+many happy birthdays and long life to Miss--I beg pardon, Cyrus, but
+what is your little friend's name?”
+
+“Emily Richards Thayer,” replied the captain, carried away by enthusiasm
+and off his guard for once.
+
+“To Em--” began Heman. Then he paused and for the first time in his
+public life seemed at a loss for words. “What?” he asked, and his hand
+shook. “I fear I didn't catch the name.”
+
+“No wonder,” laughed Mr. Tidditt. “Cy's so crazy to-night he'd forget
+his own name. Know what you said, Cy? You said she was Emily Richards
+THAYER! Haw! haw! She ain't a Thayer, Heman; her last name's Thomas.
+She's Emily Richards Thayer's granddaughter though. Her granddad was
+John Thayer, over to Orham. Good land! I forgot. Well, what of it, Cy?
+'Twould have to be known some time.”
+
+Everyone looked at Captain Cy then. No one observed Mr. Atkins for the
+moment. When they did turn their gaze upon the great man he had sunk
+back in his chair, the glass of lemonade was upset upon the cloth before
+him, and he, with a very white face, was staring at Emily Richards
+Thomas.
+
+“What's the matter, Heman?” asked the captain anxiously. “Ain't sick,
+are you?”
+
+The congressman started.
+
+“Oh, no!” he said hurriedly. “Oh, no! but I'm afraid I've soiled your
+cloth. It was awkward of me. I--I really, I apologize--I--”
+
+He wiped his face with his handkerchief. Captain Cy laughed.
+
+“Oh, never mind the tablecloth,” he said. “I cal'late it's too soiled
+already to be hurt by a bath, even a lemon one. Well, you've all heard
+the toast. Full glasses, now. Here's TO you, Bos'n! Drink hearty, all
+hands, and give the ship a good name.”
+
+If the heartiness with which they drank is a criterion, the good name
+of the ship was established. Then the assembly adjourned to the sitting
+room and--yes, even the front parlor. Not since the days when that
+sacred apartment had been desecrated by the irreverent city boarders,
+during the Howes regime, had its walls echoed to such whoops and shouts
+of laughter. The children played “Post Office” and “Copenhagen” and
+“Clap in, Clap out,” while the grown folks looked on.
+
+“Ain't they havin' a fine time, Cap?” gushed Miss Phinney. “Don't it
+make you wish you was young again?”
+
+“Angie,” replied Captain Cy solemnly, “don't tempt me; don't! If they
+keep on playin' that Copenhagen and you stand right alongside of me,
+there's no tellin' what 'll happen.”
+
+Angeline declared that he was “turrible,” but she faced the threatened
+danger nevertheless, and bravely remained where she was.
+
+Mr. Atkins went home early in the evening, taking Alicia with him. He
+explained that his long railroad journey had--er--somewhat fatigued
+him and, though he hated to leave such a--er--delightful gathering,
+he really felt that, under the circumstances, his departure would be
+forgiven. Captain Cy opened the door for him and stood watching as,
+holding his daughter by the hand, he marched majestically down the path.
+
+“Hum!” mused the captain aloud. “I guess he has been travelin' nights.
+Thought he ought to be here quick, I shouldn't wonder. He does look
+tired, that's a fact, and kind of pale, seemed to me.”
+
+“Well, there, now!” exclaimed Mrs. Tripp, who was looking over his
+shoulder. “Did you see that?”
+
+“No; what was it?”
+
+“Why, when he went to open his gate, one of them arbor vity bushes he
+set out this spring knocked his hat off. And he never seemed to notice,
+but went right on. If 'Licia hadn't picked it up, that nice new hat
+would have been layin' there yet. That's the most undignified thing ever
+I see Heman Atkins do. He MUST be tired out, poor man!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+A LETTER AND A VISITOR
+
+
+“Whit,” asked Asaph next day, “wan't you surprised to see Heman last
+night?”
+
+Captain Cy nodded. He was once more busy with the doll house, the
+construction of which had progressed slowly of late, owing to the
+demands which the party and politics made upon its builder's time.
+
+“Yup,” he said, “I sartinly was. Pretty good sign, I shouldn't wonder.
+Looks as if friend Tad had found the tide settin' too strong against him
+and had whistled for a tug. All right; the more scared the other side
+get, the better for us.”
+
+“But what in the world made Heman come over and have supper? He never
+so much as stepped foot in the house afore, did he? That's the biggest
+conundrum of all.”
+
+“Well, I guess I've got the answer. Strikes me that Heman's sociableness
+is the best sign yet. Heman's a slick article, and when he sees there's
+danger of losin' the frostin' on the cake he takes care to scrape the
+burnt part off the bottom. I may be school committeeman after town
+meetin'. He'll move all creation to stop me, of course--in his quiet,
+round-the-corner way--but, if I do win out, he wants to be in a position
+to take me one side and tell me that he's glad of it; he felt all along
+I was the right feller for the job, and if there's anything he can do to
+make things easier for me just call on him. That's the way I size it up,
+anyhow.”
+
+“Cy, I never see anybody like you. You're dead set against Heman, and
+have been right along. And he's never done anything to you, fur's I see.
+He's given a lot to the town, and he's always been the most looked-up-to
+man we've got. Joe Dimick and two or three more chronic growls have been
+the only ones to sling out hints against him, till you come. Course
+I'm working for you, tooth and nail, and I will say that you seem to be
+gettin' the votes some way or other. But if Heman SHOULD step right out
+and say: 'Feller citizens, I'm behind Tad Simpson in this fight, and as
+a favor to me and 'cause I think it's right and best, I want 'Lonzo Snow
+elected'--well, _I_ don't believe you'd have more'n one jack and a ten
+spot to count for game.”
+
+“Probably not, Ase; I presume likely not. But you take a day off some
+time and see if you can remember that Heman EVER stepped right out and
+said things. Blame it! that's just it. As for WHY he riles me up and
+makes me stubborn as a balky mule, I don't know exactly. All I'm sure
+is that he does. Maybe it's 'cause I don't like the way he wears his
+whiskers. Maybe it's because he's so top-lofty and condescendin'. A
+feller can whistle to me and say: 'Come on, Bill,' and I'll trot at his
+heels all day. But when he pats me on the head and says: 'There there!
+nice doggie. Go under the bed and lay down,' my back bristles up and I
+commence to growl right off. There's consider'ble Whittaker in me, as
+I've told you before.”
+
+The town clerk pondered over this rather unsatisfactory line of
+reasoning for some minutes. His companion fitted a wooden chimney on the
+doll house, found it a trifle out of plumb, and proceeded to whittle
+a shaving off the lower edge. Then Asaph sighed, as one who gives up a
+perplexing riddle, put his hand in his pocket, and produced a bundle of
+papers.
+
+“I made out a list of fellers down to the east'ard that I'm goin' to
+see this afternoon,” he said. “Some of 'em I guess 'll vote for you,
+but most of 'em are pretty sartin' for 'Lonzo. However, I--Where is
+that list? I had it somewhere's. And--well, I swan! I come pretty near
+forgettin' it myself. I'm 'most as bad as Bailey.”
+
+From the bundle of papers he produced a crumpled envelope.
+
+“That Bailey,” he observed, “must be in love, I cal'late, though I don't
+know who with. Ketury, I s'pose, 'cordin' to law and order, but--Well,
+anyhow, he's gettin' more absent-minded all the time. Here's a letter
+for you, Cy, that he got at the post-office a week ago Monday. 'Twas the
+night of the church sociable, and he had on his Sunday cutaway, and
+he ain't worn it sence, till the party yesterday. When he took off the
+coat, goin' to bed, the letter fell out of it. I guess he was ashamed to
+fetch it round himself, so he asked me to do it. Better late than never,
+hey? Here's that list at last.”
+
+He produced the list and handed it to the captain for inspection. The
+latter looked it over, made a few comments and suggestions, and told his
+friend to heave ahead and land as many of the listed as possible. This
+Mr. Tidditt promised to do, and, replacing the papers in his pocket,
+started for the gate.
+
+“Oh! Say, Ase!”
+
+The town clerk, his hand on the gate latch, turned.
+
+“Well, what is it?” he asked. “Don't keep me no longer'n you can help. I
+got work to do, I have.”
+
+“All right, I won't stop you. Only fallin' in love is kind of epidemic
+down at the boardin' house, I guess. Who is it that's got you in
+tow--Matildy?”
+
+“What are you talkin' about? Didn't I tell you to quit namin' me with
+Matildy Tripp? I like a joke as well as most folks, but when it's wore
+into the ground I--”
+
+“Sho, sho! Don't get mad. It's your own fault. You said that
+absent-mindedness was a love symptom, so I just got to thinkin', that's
+all. That letter that Bailey forgot--you haven't given it to me yet.”
+
+Asaph turned red and hastily snatched the papers from his pocket. He
+strode back to the door of the woodshed, handed his friend the crumpled
+envelope, and stalked off without another word. The captain chuckled,
+laid the letter on the bench beside him and went on with his work. It
+was perhaps ten minutes later when, happening to glance at the postmark
+on the envelope, he saw that it was “Concord, N. H.”
+
+Asaph's vote-gathering trip “to the east'ard” made a full day for him.
+He returned to the perfect boarding house just at supper time. During
+the meal he realized that Mr. Bangs seemed to be trying to attract his
+attention. Whenever he glanced in that gentleman's direction his glance
+was met by winks and mystifying shakes of the head. Losing patience at
+last, he demanded to know what was the matter.
+
+“Want to say somethin' to me, do you?” he inquired briskly. “If you do,
+out with it! Don't set there workin' your face as if 'twas wound up,
+like a clockwork image.”
+
+This remark had the effect of turning all the other faces toward
+Bailey's. He was very much upset.
+
+“No, no!” he stammered. “No, no! I don't want you for nothin'. Was I
+makin' my face go? I--I didn't know it. I've been washin' carriages and
+cleanin' up the barn all day and I cal'late I've overdone. I'm gettin'
+old, and hard work's likely to bring on shakin' palsy to old folks.”
+
+His wife tartly observed that, if WORK was the cause of it, she guessed
+he was safe from palsy for quite a spell yet. At any rate, a marked
+recovery set in and he signaled no more during the meal. But when it was
+over, and his task as dish-wiper completed, he hurried out of doors and
+found Mr. Tidditt, shivering in the November wind, on the front porch.
+
+“Now what is it?” asked Asaph sharply. “I know there's somethin' and
+I've froze to death by sections waitin' to hear it.”
+
+“Have you seen Cy?” whispered Bailey, glancing fearfully over his
+shoulder at the lighted windows of the house.
+
+“No, not sence mornin'. Why?”
+
+“Well, there's somethin' the matter with him. Somethin' serious. I was
+swabbin' decks in the barn about eleven o'clock, when he come postin'
+in, white and shaky, and so nervous he couldn't stand still. Looked as
+if he had had a stroke almost. I--”
+
+“Godfrey scissors! You don't s'pose Heman's comin' back has knocked out
+his chances for the committee, do you?”
+
+“No, sir-ee! 'twan't that. Cy's anxious to be elected and all, but you
+know his politics are more of a joke with him than anything else. And
+any rap Heman or Tad could give him would only make him fight harder.
+And he wouldn't talk politics at all; didn't seem to give a durn about
+'em, one way or t'other. No, 'twas somethin' about that letter, the one
+I forgot so long. He wanted to know why in time I hadn't given it to him
+when it fust come. He was real ugly about it, for him, and kept pacin'
+up and down the barn floor and layin' into me, till I begun to think he
+was crazy. I guess he see my feelin's were hurt, 'cause, just afore he
+left, he held out his hand and said I mustn't mind his talk; he'd been
+knocked on his beam ends, he said, and wan't really responsible.”
+
+“Wouldn't he say what had knocked him?”
+
+“No, couldn't get nothin' out of him. And when he quit he went off
+toward home, slappin' his fists together and actin' as if he didn't see
+the road across his bows. Now, you know how cool and easy goin' Whit
+generally is. I swan to man, Ase! he made me so sorry for him I didn't
+know what to do.”
+
+“Ain't you been up to see him sence?”
+
+“No, Ketury was sot on havin' the barn cleaned, and she stood over
+me with a rope's end, as you might say. I couldn't get away a minute,
+though I made up more'n a dozen errands at Simmons's and the like of
+that. You hold on till I sneak into the entry and get my cap and we'll
+put for there now. I won't be but a jiffy. I'm worried.”
+
+They entered the yard of the Cy Whittaker place together and approached
+the side door. As they stood on the steps Asaph touched his chum on the
+arm and pointed to the window beside them. The shade was half drawn and
+beneath it they had a clear view of the interior of the sitting room.
+Captain Cy was in the rocker before the stove, holding Bos'n in his
+arms. The child was sound asleep, her yellow braid hanging over the
+captain's broad shoulder. He was gazing down into her face with a look
+which was so full of yearning and love that it brought a choke into the
+throats of the pair who saw it.
+
+They entered the dining room. The captain sprang from his chair and,
+still holding the little girl close against his breast, met them at
+the sitting-room door. When he saw who the visitors were, he caught his
+breath, almost with a sob, and seemed relieved.
+
+“S-s-h-h!” he whispered warningly. “She's asleep.”
+
+The members of the Board of Strategy nodded understandingly and sat
+down upon the sofa. Captain Cy tiptoed to the bedroom, turned back the
+bedclothes with one hand and laid Bos'n down. They saw him tuck her
+carefully in and then stoop and kiss her. He returned to the sitting
+room and closed the door behind him.
+
+“We see she was asleep afore we come in,” explained Asaph. “We see you
+and her through the window.”
+
+The captain looked hurriedly at the window indicated. Then he stepped
+over and pulled the shade down to the sill, doing the same with the
+curtains of the other two windows.
+
+“What's the matter?” inquired Bailey, trying to be facetious. “'Fraid of
+'Lonzo's crowd spyin' on us?”
+
+Captain Cy did not reply. He did not even sit down, but remained
+standing, his back to the stove.
+
+“Well?” he asked shortly. “Did you fellers want to see me for anything
+'special?”
+
+“Wanted to see what had struck you all to once,” replied Mr. Tidditt.
+“Bailey says you scared him half to death this forenoon. And you look
+now as if somebody's ghost had riz and hollered 'Boo!' at you. For the
+land sakes, Whit, what IS it?”
+
+The captain drew his hand across his forehead.
+
+“Ghost?” he repeated absently. “No, I haven't SEEN a ghost. There!
+there! don't mind me. I ain't real well to-day, I guess.” He smiled
+crookedly.
+
+“Don't you want to hear about my vote-grabbin' cruise?” asked Tidditt.
+“I was flatterin' myself you'd be tickled to hear I'd done so well. Why,
+even Marcellus Parker says he may vote for you--if he makes up his mind
+that way.”
+
+Marcellus was a next-door neighbor of Alonzo Snow's. But Captain Cy
+didn't seem to care.
+
+“Hey?” he murmured. “Yes. Well?”
+
+“WELL! Is that all you've got to say? Are you really sick, Cy? Or is
+Bos'n sick?”
+
+“No!” was the answer, almost fierce in its utterance. “She isn't sick.
+Don't be a fool.”
+
+“What's foolish about that? I didn't know but she might be. There's
+mumps in town and--”
+
+“She's all right; so shut up, will you! There, Ase!” he added. “I'm the
+fool myself. Don't mind my barkin'; I don't mean it. I am about sick, I
+cal'late. Be better to-morrer, maybe.”
+
+“What's got into you? Was that letter of Bailey's--”
+
+“Hush!” The captain held up his hand. “I thought I heard a team.”
+
+“Depot wagon, most likely,” said Bailey. “About time for it! Humph!
+seems to be stoppin', don't it? Was you expectin' anybody? Shall I go
+and--”
+
+“No! Set still.”
+
+The pair on the sofa sat still. Captain Cy stood like a statue in the
+middle of the floor. He squared his shoulders and jammed his clenched
+fists into his pockets. Steps crunched the gravel of the walk. There
+came a knock at the door of the dining room.
+
+Walking steadily, but with a face set as the figurehead on one of his
+own ships, the captain went to answer the knock. They heard the door
+open, and then a man's voice asked:
+
+“Is this Cap'n Whittaker?”
+
+“Yes,” was the short answer.
+
+“Well, Cap, I guess you don't know me, though maybe you know some of my
+family. Ha, ha! Don't understand that, hey? Well, you let me in and I'll
+explain the joke.”
+
+The captain's reply was calm and deliberate.
+
+“I shouldn't wonder if I understood it,” he said. “Come in. Don't--” The
+remainder of the sentence was whispered and the listeners on the sofa
+could not hear it. A moment later Captain Cy entered the sitting room,
+followed by his caller.
+
+The latter was a stranger. He was a broad-shouldered man of medium
+height, with a yellowish mustache and brown hair. He was dressed in
+rather shabby clothes, without an overcoat, and he had a soft felt hat
+in his hand. The most noticeable thing about him was a slight hesitancy
+in his walk. He was not lame, he did not limp, yet his left foot seemed
+to halt for an instant as he brought it forward in the step. They
+learned afterwards that it had been hurt in a mine cave-in. He carried
+himself with a swagger, and, after his entrance, there was a perceptible
+aroma of alcohol in the room.
+
+He stared at the Board of Strategy and the stare was returned in
+full measure. Bailey and Asaph were wildly curious. They, of course,
+connected the stranger's arrival with the mysterious letter and the
+captain's perturbation of the day.
+
+But their curiosity was not to be satisfied, at least not then.
+
+“How are you, gents?” hailed the newcomer cheerfully. “Like the looks of
+me, do you?”
+
+Captain Cy cut off further conversation.
+
+“Ase,” he said, “this--er--gentleman and I have got some business to
+talk over. I know you're good enough friends of mine not to mind if
+I ask you to clear out. You'll understand. You WILL understand, boys,
+won't you?” he added, almost entreatingly.
+
+“Sartin sure!” replied Mr. Tidditt, rising hurriedly. “Don't say another
+word, Whit.” And the mystified Bangs concurred with a “Yes, yes! Why, of
+course! Didn't have nothin' that amounts to nothin' to stay for anyhow.
+See you to-morrer, Cy.”
+
+Outside and at the gate they stopped and looked at each other.
+
+“Well!” exclaimed Asaph. “If that ain't the strangest thing! Who was
+that feller? Where'd he come from? Did you notice how Cy acted? Seemed
+to be holdin' himself in by main strength.”
+
+“Did you smell the rum on him?” returned Bailey. “On that t'other chap,
+I mean? Didn't he look like a reg'lar no-account to you? And say, Ase,
+didn't he remind you of somebody you'd seen somewheres--kind of, in a
+way?”
+
+They walked home in a dazed state, asking unanswerable questions and
+making profitless guesses. But Asaph's final remark seemed to sum up the
+situation.
+
+“There's trouble comin' of this, Bailey,” he declared. “And it's trouble
+for Cy Whittaker, I'm afraid. Poor old Cy! Well, WE'LL stand by him,
+anyhow. I don't believe he'll sleep much to-night. Didn't look as though
+he would, did he? Who IS that feller?”
+
+If he had seen Captain Cy, at two o'clock the next morning, sitting
+by Bos'n's bedside and gazing hopelessly at the child, he would have
+realized that, if his former predictions were wiped off the slate and he
+could be judged by the one concerning the captain's sleepless night, he
+might thereafter pose as a true prophet.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+A BARGAIN OFF
+
+
+“Mornin', Georgianna,” said Captain Cy to his housekeeper as the latter
+unlocked the back door of the Whittaker house next morning. “I'm a
+little ahead of you this time.”
+
+Miss Taylor, being Bayport born and bred, was an early riser. She lodged
+with her sister, in Bassett's Hollow, a good half mile from the Cy
+Whittaker place, but she was always on hand at the latter establishment
+by six each morning, except Sundays. Now she glanced quickly at the
+clock. The time was ten minutes to six.
+
+“Land sakes!” she exclaimed. “I should say you was! What in the world
+got you up so early? Ain't sick, are you?”
+
+“No,” replied the captain wearily. “I ain't sick. I didn't sleep very
+well last night, that's all.”
+
+Georgianna looked sharply at him. His face was haggard and his eyes had
+dark circles under them.
+
+“Humph!” she grunted. “No, I guess you didn't. Looks to me as if you'd
+been up all night.” Then she added an anxious query: “'Tain't Bos'n--she
+ain't sick, I hope?”
+
+“No. She's all right. I say, Georgianna, you put on an extry plate this
+mornin'. Got company for breakfast.”
+
+The housekeeper was surprised.
+
+“For breakfast?” she repeated. “Land of goodness! who's comin' for
+breakfast? I never heard of company droppin' in for breakfast. That's
+one meal folks generally get to home. Who is it? Mr. Tidditt? Has Ketury
+turned him out door because he's too bad an example for her husband?”
+
+“No, 'tain't Ase. It's a--a friend of mine. Well, not exactly a friend,
+maybe, but an acquaintance from out of town. He came last evenin'. He's
+up in the spare bedroom.”
+
+“Well, I never! Come unexpected, didn't he? I wish I'd known he was
+comin'. That spare room bed ain't been aired I don't know when.”
+
+“I guess he can stand it. I cal'late he's slept in consider'ble
+worse--Hum! Yes, he did come kind of sudden.”
+
+“What's his name?”
+
+“What difference does that make? I don't know's his name makes any odds
+about gettin' his breakfast for him.”
+
+Georgianna was hurt. Her easy-going employer had never used this tone
+before when addressing her.
+
+“Oh!” she sniffed. “Is THAT the way you feel? All right! I can mind my
+own business, thank you. I only asked because it's convenient sometimes
+to know whether to call a person Bill Smith or Sol Jones. But I don't
+care if it's Nebuchadnezzar. I know when to keep my tongue still, I
+guess.”
+
+She flounced over to the range. Captain Cy looked ashamed of himself.
+
+“I'm kind of out of sorts to-day,” he said. “Got some headache. Why, his
+name is--is--yes, 'tis Smith, come to think of it--John Smith. Funny you
+should guess right, wan't it?”
+
+“Humph!” was the ungracious answer. “Names don't interest me, I tell
+you.”
+
+The captain was in the dining room when Bos'n appeared.
+
+“Good morning, Uncle Cyrus,” she said. “You've been waiting, haven't
+you? Am I late? I didn't mean to be.”
+
+“No, no! you ain't late. Early, if anything. Breakfast ain't quite ready
+yet. Come here and set in my lap. I want to talk to you.”
+
+He took her on his knee. She looked up into his face.
+
+“What's the matter, Uncle Cy?” she asked. “What makes you so sober?”
+
+“Sober? If you ain't the oldest young one for eight years I ever saw!
+Why, I ain't sober. No, no! Say, Bos'n, do you like your school as well
+as ever?”
+
+“Yes, sir. I like it better all the time.”
+
+“Do, hey? And that teacher woman--go on likin' her?”
+
+The child nodded emphatically. “Yes, sir,” she said. “And I haven't been
+kept after since that once.”
+
+“Sho! sho! Course you ain't'! So you think Bayport's as nice as Concord,
+do you?”
+
+“Oh! lots nicer! If mamma was only here I'd never want to be anywhere
+else. And not then, maybe, unless you was there, too.”
+
+“Hum! Want to know! Say, Bos'n, how would you feel if you had to go
+somewheres else?”
+
+“To live? Have we got to? I'd feel dreadful, of course. But if you've
+got to go, Uncle Cyrus, why--”
+
+“Me? No; I ain't got to go anywheres. But 'twas you I was thinkin' of.
+Wouldn't want to leave the old man, hey?”
+
+“To leave YOU! Oh, Uncle Cyrus!”
+
+She was staring at him now and her chin was trembling.
+
+“Uncle,” she demanded, “you ain't going to send me away? Haven't I been
+a good girl?”
+
+The captain's lips shut tight. He waited a moment before replying.
+“'Deed you've been a good girl!” he said brusquely. “I never saw a
+better one. No, I ain't goin' to SEND you away. Don't you worry about
+that.”
+
+“But Alicia Atkins said one time you told somebody you was going to send
+me out West, after a while. I didn't believe it, then, she's so mean,
+but she said you said--”
+
+“SAID!” Captain Cy groaned. “The Lord knows what I ain't said! I've been
+a fool, dearie, and it's a judgment on me, I guess.”
+
+“But ain't you goin' to keep me? I--I--”
+
+She sobbed. The captain stroked her hair.
+
+“Keep you?” he muttered. “Yes, by the big dipper! I'm goin' to keep you,
+if I can--if I can.”
+
+“Hello!” said a voice. The pair looked up. The man who had arrived on
+the previous night stood in the sitting-room doorway. How long he had
+been standing there the captain did not know. What he did know was that
+Mr. John Smith by daylight was not more prepossessing than the same
+individual viewed by the aid of a lamp.
+
+Emily saw the stranger and slid from Captain Cy's knees. The captain
+rose.
+
+“Bos'n,” he said, “this is Mr.--er--Smith, who's goin' to make us a
+little visit. I want you to shake hands with him.”
+
+The girl dutifully approached Mr. Smith and extended her hand. He took
+it and held it in his own.
+
+“Is this the--” he began.
+
+Captain Cy bowed assent.
+
+“Yes,” he said, his eyes fixed on the visitor's face. “Yes. Don't forget
+what you said last night.”
+
+Smith shook his head.
+
+“No,” he replied. “I ain't the kind that forgets, unless it pays pretty
+well. There's some things I've remembered for quite a few years.”
+
+He looked the child over from head to foot and his brows drew together
+in an ugly frown.
+
+“So this is her, hey?” he muttered musingly. “Humph! Well, I don't know
+as I'd have guessed it. Favors the other side of the house more--the
+respectable side, I should say. Still, there's a little brand of the
+lost sheep, hey? Enough to prove property, huh? Mark of the beast, I
+s'pose the psalm-singin' relations would call it. D--n em! I--”
+
+“Steady!” broke in the captain. Mr. Smith started, seemed to remember
+where he was, and his manner changed.
+
+“Come and see me, honey,” he coaxed, drawing the girl toward him by
+the hand he was holding. “Ain't you got a nice kiss for me this fine
+mornin'? Don't be scared. I won't bite.”
+
+Bos'n looked shrinkingly at Mr. Smith's unshaven cheeks and then at
+Captain Cy. The latter's face was absolutely devoid of expression. He
+merely nodded.
+
+So Emily kissed one of the bristling cheeks. The kiss was returned full
+upon the mouth. She wiped her lips and darted away to her chair by the
+table.
+
+“What's your hurry?” inquired the visitor. “Don't I do it right? Been
+some time since I kissed a girl--a little one, anyhow,” he added,
+winking at his host. “Never mind, we'll know each other better by and
+by.”
+
+He looked on in wondering disgust as Bos'n said her “grace.”
+
+“What in blazes!” he burst out when the little blessing was finished.
+“Who put her up to that? A left-over from the psalm-singers, is it?”
+
+“I don't know,” answered the captain, speaking with deliberation. “I do
+know that I like to have her do it and that she shall do it as long's
+she's at this table.”
+
+“Oh! she shall, hey? Well, I reckon--”
+
+“She shall--AS LONG AS SHE'S AT THIS TABLE. Is that real plain and
+understandable, or shall I write it down?”
+
+There was an icy clearness in the captain's tone which seemed to freeze
+further conversation on the part of Mr. Smith. He merely grunted and ate
+his breakfast in silence. He ate a great deal and ate it rapidly.
+
+Bos'n departed for school when the meal was over. Captain Cy helped her
+on with her coat and hood. Then, as he always did of late, he kissed her
+good-by.
+
+“Hi!” called Mr. Smith from the sitting room. “Ain't I in on that? If
+there's any kisses goin' I want to take a hand before the deal's over.”
+
+“Must I?” whispered Bos'n pleadingly. “Must I, Uncle Cy? I don't want
+to. I don't like him.”
+
+“Come on!” called Mr. Smith. “I'm gettin' over my bashfulness fast.
+Hurry up!”
+
+“Must I kiss him, Uncle Cyrus?” whispered Bos'n. “MUST I?”
+
+“No!” snapped the captain sharply. “Trot right along now, dearie. Be a
+good girl. Good-by.”
+
+He entered the sitting room. His guest had found the Sunday box and was
+lighting one of his host's cigars.
+
+“Well,” he inquired easily, “what's next on the bill? Anything goin' on
+in this forsaken hole?”
+
+“There's a barber shop down the road. You might go there first, I should
+say. Not that you need it, but just as a novelty like.”
+
+“Humph! I don't know. What's the matter with your razor?”
+
+“Nothin'. At least I ain't found anything wrong with it yet.”
+
+“Oh! Say, look here! you're a queer guy, you are. I ain't got you right
+in my mind yet. One minute butter wouldn't melt in your mouth, and the
+next you're fresh as a new egg. What IS your little game, anyway? You've
+got one, so don't tell me you ain't.”
+
+Captain Cy was plainly embarrassed. He gazed at the “Shore to Shore”
+ picture on the wall as he answered.
+
+“No game about it,” he said. “Last night you and I agreed that nothin'
+was to be said for a few days. You was to stay here and I'd try to make
+you comfort'ble, that's all. Then we'd see about that other matter,
+settle on a fair price, and--”
+
+“Yes, I know. That's all right. But you're too willin'. There's
+something else. Say!” The ugly scowl was in evidence again. “Say, look
+here, you! you ain't got somethin' up your sleeve, have you? There ain't
+somethin' more that I don't know about, is there? No more secrets than
+that--”
+
+“No! You hear me? No! You'll get your rights, and maybe a little more
+than your rights, if you're decent. And it'll pay you to be decent.”
+
+“Humph!” Mr. Smith seemed to be thinking. Then he added, looking up
+keenly under his brows: “How about the--the incumbrance on the property?
+Of course, when I go I'll have to take that with me, and--”
+
+Captain Cy interrupted.
+
+“There! there!” he exclaimed, and there was a shake in his voice,
+“there! there! Don't let's talk about such things now. I--I--Let's wait
+a spell. We'll have some more plans to make, maybe. If you want to use
+my razor it's right in that drawer. Just help yourself.”
+
+The visitor laughed aloud. He nodded as if satisfied. “Ho! ho!” he
+chuckled. “I see! Humph! yes--I see. The fools ain't all dead, and
+there's none to beat an old one. Well! well! All right, pard! I guess
+you and me'll get along fine. I've changed my mind; I WILL go to the
+barber shop, after all. Only I'm a little shy of dust just at present.
+So, to oblige a friend, maybe you'll hand over, huh?”
+
+The captain reached into his pocket, extracted a two-dollar bill, and
+passed it to the speaker. Mr. Smith smiled and shook his head.
+
+“You can't come in on that, pard,” he said. “The limit's five.”
+
+Captain Cy took back the bill and exchanged it for one with a V in each
+corner. The visitor took it and turned toward the door.
+
+“Ta! ta!” he said, taking his hat from the peg in the dining room.
+“I'm off for the clippers. When I come back I'll be the sweetest little
+Willie in the diggin's. So long.”
+
+Bos'n and the captain sat down to the dinner at noon alone. Mr. Smith
+had not returned from his trip to the barber's. He came in, however,
+just before the meal was over, still in an unshorn condition, somewhat
+flushed and very loquacious.
+
+“Say!” he exclaimed genially. “That Simpson's the right sort, ain't he?
+Him and me took a shine to each other from the go-off. He's been West
+himself and he's got some width to him. He's no psalm singer.”
+
+“Humph!” commented the captain, with delicate sarcasm. “He don't seem
+to be much of a barber, either. What's the matter? Gone out of business,
+has he? Or was you so wild or woolly he got discouraged before he
+begun?”
+
+“Great snakes!” exclaimed the visitor. “I forgot all about the clippers!
+Well, that's one on me, pard! I'll make a new try soon's grub's over.
+Don't be so tight-fisted with the steak; this is a plate I'm passin',
+not a contribution box.”
+
+He winked at Bos'n and would have chucked her under the chin if she had
+not dodged. She seemed to have taken a great aversion to Mr. Smith and
+was plainly afraid of him.
+
+“Is he going to stay very long, Uncle Cyrus?” she whispered, when it was
+school time once more. “Do you think he's nice?”
+
+Captain Cy did not answer. When she had gone and the guest had risen
+from the table and put on his hat, the captain said warningly:
+
+“There's one little bit of advice I want to give you, Mister Man: A
+bargain's a bargain, but it takes two to keep it. Don't let your love
+for Tad Simpson lead you into talkin' too much. Talk's cheap, they say,
+but too much of it might be mighty dear for you. Understand?”
+
+Smith patted him on the back. “Lord love you, pard!” he chuckled, “I'm
+no spring chicken. I'm as hard to open as a safe, I am. It takes a can
+opener to get anything out of me.”
+
+“Yes; well, you can get inside some folks easier with a corkscrew. I've
+been told that Tad's a kind of a medium sometimes. If he raises any
+spirits in that back room of his, I'd leave 'em alone, if I was you. So
+long as you're decent, I'll put up with--”
+
+But Mr. Smith was on his way to the gate, whistling as if he hadn't a
+care in the world. Captain Cy watched him go down the road, and then,
+with the drawn, weary look on his face which had been there since the
+day before, he entered the sitting room and threw himself into a chair.
+
+Miss Phoebe Dawes, the school teacher, worked late that evening. There
+were examination papers to be gone over, and experience had demonstrated
+that the only place where she could be free from interruptions was the
+schoolroom itself. At the perfect boarding house the shrill tones of
+Keturah's voice and those of Miss Phinney and Mrs. Tripp penetrated
+through shut doors. It is hard to figure percentages when the most
+intimate details of Bayport's family life are being recited and gloated
+over on the other side of a thin partition. And when Matilda undertook
+to defend the Come-Outer faith against the assaults of the majority, the
+verbal riot was, as Mr. Tidditt described it, “like feedin' time in a
+parrot shop.”
+
+So Miss Phoebe came to the boarding house for supper and then returned
+to the schoolroom, where, with a lighted bracket lamp beside her on the
+desk, she labored until nine o'clock. Then she put on her coat and hat,
+extinguished the light, locked the door, and started on her lonely walk
+home.
+
+“The main road” in our village is dark after nine o clock. There is
+a street light--a kerosene lamp--on a post in front of the Methodist
+meeting house, but the sexton forgets it, generally speaking, or, at
+any rate, neglects to fill it except at rare intervals. Simmons's front
+windows are ablaze, of course, and so are the dingy panes of Simpson's
+barber shop. But these two centers of sociability are both at the depot
+road corner, and when they are passed the only sources of illumination
+are the scattered gleams from the back windows of dwellings. As most
+of us retire by half-past eight, the glow along the main road is not
+dazzling, to say the very least.
+
+Miss Dawes was not afraid of the dark. She had been her own escort for
+a good many years. She walked briskly on, heard the laughter and loud
+voices in the barber shop die away behind her, passed the schoolhouse
+pond, now bleak and chill with the raw November wind blowing across it,
+and began to climb the slope of Whittaker's Hill. And here the wind,
+rushing in unimpeded over the flooded salt meadows from the tumbled
+bay outside, wound her skirts about her and made climbing difficult and
+breath-taking.
+
+She was, perhaps, half way up the long slope, when she heard, in the
+intervals between the gusts, footsteps behind her. She knew most of
+the village people by this time and the thought of company was not
+unpleasant. So she paused and pantingly waited for whoever was coming.
+She could not see more than a few yards, but the footsteps sounded
+nearer and nearer, and, a moment later, a man's voice began singing
+“Annie Rooney,” a melody then past its prime in the cities, but
+popularized in Bayport by some departed batch of summer boarders.
+
+She did not recognize the voice and she did not particularly approve of
+singing in the streets, especially such loud singing. So she decided not
+to wait longer, and was turning to continue her climb, when the person
+behind stopped his vocalizing and called.
+
+“Hi!” he shouted. “Hello, ahead there! Who is it? Hold on a minute,
+pard! I'm comin'.”
+
+She disobeyed the order to “hold on,” and began to hurry. The hurry was
+of no avail, however, for the follower broke into a run and soon was by
+her side. He was a stranger to her.
+
+“Whee! Wow!” he panted. “This is no race track, pard. Pull up, and let's
+take it easy. My off leg's got a kink in it, and I don't run so easy as
+I used to. Great snakes; what's your rush? Ain't you fond of company?
+Hello! I believe it's a woman!”
+
+She did not answer. His manner and the smell of liquor about him were
+decidedly unpleasant. The idea that he might be a tramp occurred to her.
+Tramps are our bugaboos here in Bayport.
+
+“A woman!” exclaimed the man hilariously. “Well, say! I didn't believe
+there was one loose in this tail-end of nowhere. Girlie, I'm glad to see
+you. Not that I can see you much, but never mind. All cats are gray in
+the dark, hey? You can't see me, neither, so we'll take each other on
+trust. 'She's my sweetheart, I'm her beau.' Say, Maud, may I see you
+home?”
+
+She was frightened now. The Whittaker place on the hilltop was the
+nearest house, and that was some distance off.
+
+“What's the matter, Carrie?” inquired the man. “Don't be scared. I
+wouldn't hurt you. I'm just lonesome, that's all, and I need society.
+Don't rush, you'll ruin your complexion. Here! come under my wing and
+let's toddle along together. How's mamma?”
+
+He seized her arm and pulled her back beside him. She tried to free
+herself, but could not. Her unwelcome escort held her fast and she was
+obliged to move as slowly as he did. It was very dark.
+
+“Say, what IS your name?” coaxed the man. “Is is Maud, hey? Or Julia? I
+always liked Julia. Don't be peevish. Tell us, that's a good girl.”
+
+She gave a quick jerk and managed to pull her arm from his grasp,
+giving him a violent push as she did so. He, being unsteady on his feet,
+tumbled down the low bank which edged the sidewalk. Then she ran on up
+the hill as fast as she could. She heard him swear as he fell.
+
+She had nearly reached the end of the Whittaker fence when he caught
+her. He was laughing, and that alarmed her almost as much as if he had
+been angry.
+
+“Naughty! naughty!” he chuckled, holding her fast. “Tryin' to sneak, was
+you? Not much! Not this time! Did you ever play forfeits when you was
+little? Well, this is a forfeit game and you're It. You must bow to the
+prettiest, kneel to the wittiest, and kiss the one you love best. And
+I'll let you off on the first two. Come now! Pay up!”
+
+Then she screamed. And her scream was answered at once. A gate swung
+back with a bang and she heard some one running along the walk toward
+her.
+
+“O Cap'n Whittaker!” she called. “Come! Come quick, please!”
+
+How she knew that the person running toward her was Captain Cy has
+not been satisfactorily explained even yet. She cannot explain it
+and neither can the captain. And equally astonishing was the latter's
+answer. He certainly had not heard her voice often enough to recognize
+it under such circumstances.
+
+“All right, teacher!” he shouted. “I'm comin'! Let go of that woman,
+you--Oh, it's you, is it?”
+
+He had seized Mr. Smith by the coat collar and jerked him away from his
+victim. Miss Dawes took refuge behind the captain's bulky form. The two
+men looked at each other. Smith was recovering his breath.
+
+“It's you, is it?” repeated Captain Cy. Then, turning to Miss Phoebe, he
+asked: “Did he hurt you?”
+
+“No! Not yet. But he frightened me dreadfully. Who is he? Do you know
+him?”
+
+Her persecutor answered the question.
+
+“You bet your life he knows me!” he snarled. “He knows me mighty well!
+Pard, you keep your nose out of this, d'you see! You mind your own
+business. I wan't goin' to hurt her any.”
+
+The captain paid no attention to him.
+
+“Yup, I know him,” he said grimly. Then he added, pointing toward the
+lighted window of the house ahead: “You--Smith, you go in there and stay
+there! Trot! Don't make me speak twice.”
+
+But Mr. Smith was too far gone with anger and the “spirits” raised by
+Tad Simpson to heed the menace in the words.
+
+“Smith, hey?” he sneered. “Oh, yes, SMITH! Well, Smith ain't goin',
+d'you see! He's goin' to do what he pleases. I reckon I'm on top of the
+roost here! I know what's what! You can't talk to me. I've got rights, I
+have, and--”
+
+“Blast your rights!”
+
+“What? WHAT? Blast my rights, hey? Oh, yes! Think because you've got
+money you can cheat me out of 'em, do you? Well, you can't! And how
+about the other part of those rights? S'pose I walk right into that
+house and--”
+
+“Stop it! Shut up! You'd better not--”
+
+“And into that bedroom and just say: 'Emmie, here's your--'”
+
+He didn't finish the sentence. Captain Cy's big fist struck him fairly
+between the eyes, and the back of his head struck the walk with a
+“smack!” Then, through the fireworks which were illuminating his muddled
+brain, he heard the captain's voice.
+
+“You low - down, good - for - nothin' scamp!” growled Captain Cy. “All
+this day I've been hatin' myself for the way I've acted to you. I've
+hated myself and been tryin' to spunk up courage to say 'It's all off!'
+But I was too much of a coward, I guess. And now the Lord A'mighty has
+MADE me say it. You want your rights, do you? So? Then get 'em if you
+can. It's you and me for it, and we'll see who's the best man. Teacher,
+if you're ready I'll walk home with you now.”
+
+Mr. Smith was not entirely cowed.
+
+“You go!” he yelled. “Go ahead! And I'll go to a lawyer's to-morrow. But
+to-night, and inside of five minutes, I'll walk into that house of yours
+and get my--”
+
+The captain dropped Miss Dawes's arm and strode back to where his
+antagonist was sitting in the dust of the walk. Stooping down, he shook
+a big forefinger in the man's face.
+
+“You've been out West, they tell me,” he whispered sternly. “Yes! Well,
+out West they take the law into their own hands, sometimes, I hear. I've
+been in South America, and they do it there, too. Just so sure as you
+go into my house to-night and touch--well, you know what I mean--just
+so sure I'll kill you like a dog, if I have to chase you to Jericho. Now
+you can believe that or not. If I was you I'd believe it.”
+
+Taking the frightened schoolmistress by the arm once more he walked
+away. Mr. Smith said nothing till they had gone some distance. Then he
+called after them.
+
+“You wait till to-morrow!” he shouted. “You just wait and see what'll
+happen to-morrow!”
+
+Captain Cy was silent all the way to the gate of the perfect boarding
+house. Miss Dawes was silent likewise, but she thought a great deal. At
+the gate she said:
+
+“Captain Whittaker, I'm EVER so much obliged to you. I can't thank you
+enough.”
+
+“Don't try, then. That's what you said to me about the cow.”
+
+“But I'm almost sorry you were the one to come. I'm afraid that man will
+get you into trouble. Has he--can he--What did he mean about to-morrow?
+Who IS he?”
+
+The captain pushed his cap back from his forehead.
+
+“Teacher,” he said, “there's a proverb, ain't there, about lettin'
+to-morrow take care of itself? As for trouble--well, I did think I'd had
+trouble enough in my life to last me through, but I cal'late I've got
+another guess. Anyhow, don't you fret. I did just the right thing,
+and I'm glad I did it. If it was only me I wouldn't fret, either. But
+there's--” He stopped, groaned, and pulled the cap forward again. “Good
+night,” he added, and turned to go.
+
+Miss Dawes leaned forward and detained him.
+
+“Just a minute, Cap'n Whittaker,” she said. “I was a little prejudiced
+against you when I came here. I was told that you got me the teacher's
+position, and there was more than a hint that you did it for selfish
+reasons of your own. When you called that afternoon at the school I
+was--”
+
+“Don't say a word! I was the biggest fool in town that time, and I've
+been ashamed to look in the glass ever since. I ain't always such an
+idiot.”
+
+“But I've had to judge people for myself in my lifetime,” continued the
+schoolmistress, “and I've made up my mind that I was mistaken about
+you. I should like to apologize. Will you shake hands?”
+
+She extended her hand. Captain Cy hesitated.
+
+“Hadn't you better wait a spell?” he asked. “You've heard that swab call
+me partner. Hadn't--”
+
+“No; I don't know what your trouble is, of course, and I certainly
+shan't mention it to anyone. But whatever it is I'm sure you are right
+and it's not your fault. Now will you shake hands?”
+
+The captain did not answer. He merely took the proffered hand, shook it
+heartily, and strode off into the dark.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+“TOWN-MEETIN'”
+
+
+“This is goin' to be a meMOriable town meetin'!” declared Sylvanus
+Cahoon, with unction, rising from the settee to gaze about him over the
+heads of the voters in the townhall. “I bet you every able-bodied man
+in Bayport 'll be here this forenoon. Yes, sir! that's what I call it, a
+me-MO-riable meetin'!”
+
+“See anything of Cy?” inquired Josiah Dimick, who sat next to Sylvanus.
+
+“No, he ain't come yet. And Heman ain't here, neither. Hello! there's
+Tad. Looks happy, seems to me.”
+
+Captain Dimick stood up to inspect Mr. Simpson.
+
+“Humph!” he muttered. “Well, unless my count's wrong, he ain't got much
+to be happy about. 'Lonzo Snow's with him. Tad does look sort of joyful,
+don't he? Them that laughs last laughs best. When the vote for school
+committee's all in we'll see who does the grinnin'. But I can't
+understand--Hello! there's Tidditt. Asaph! Ase! S-s-t-t! Come here a
+minute.”
+
+Mr. Tidditt, trembling with excitement, and shaking hands effusively
+with everyone he met, pushed his way up the aisle and bent over his
+friend.
+
+“Say, Ase,” whispered Josiah, “where's Whit? Why ain't he on hand?
+Nothin's happened, has it?”
+
+“No,” replied the town clerk. “Everything seems to be all right. I
+stopped in on the way along and Cy said not to wait; he'd be here on
+time. He's been kind of off his feed for the last day or so, and I
+cal'late he didn't feel like hurryin'. Say, Joe, now honest, what do you
+think of my chances?”
+
+Such a confirmed joker as Dimick couldn't lose an opportunity like
+this. With the aid of one trying to be cheerful under discouragement he
+answered that, so far, Asaph's chances looked fair, pretty fair, but of
+course you couldn't always sometimes tell. Mr. Tidditt rushed away to
+begin the handshaking all over again.
+
+From this round of cordiality he was reluctantly torn and conducted to
+the platform. After thumping the desk with his fist he announced that
+the gathering would “come to order right off, as there was consider'ble
+business to be done and it ought to be goin' ahead.” He then proceeded
+to read the call for the meeting. This ceremony was no sooner over than
+Abednego Small, “Uncle Bedny,” was on his feet loudly demanding to
+be informed why the town “hadn't done nothin'” toward fixing up the
+Bassett's Hollow road. Uncle Bedny's speech had proceeded no further
+than “Feller citizens, in the name of an outrageous--I should say
+outraged portion of our community I--” when he was choked off by a
+self-appointed committee who knew Mr. Small of old and had seated
+themselves near him to be ready for just such emergencies. The next
+step, judged by meetings of other years, should have been to unanimously
+elect Eben Salters moderator; but as Captain Eben refused to serve,
+owing to his interest in the Whittaker campaign, Alvin Knowles was, by a
+small majority, chosen for that office. Mr. Knowles was a devout admirer
+of the great Atkins, and his election would have been considered a
+preliminary victory for the opposition had it not been that many of
+Captain Cy's adherents voted for Alvin from a love of mischief, knowing
+from experience his ignorance of parliamentary law and his easy-going
+rule. “Now there'll be fun!” declared one delighted individual.
+“Anything's in order when Alvin's chairman.”
+
+The proceedings of the first half hour were disappointingly tame. Most
+of us had come there to witness a political wrestling match between
+Tad Simpson and Cyrus Whittaker. Some even dared hope that Congressman
+Atkins might direct his fight in person. But neither the Honorable
+nor Captain Cy was in the hall as yet. Solon Eldridge was re-elected
+selectman and so also was Asaph Tidditt. Nobody but Asaph seemed
+surprised at this result. His speech of acceptance would undoubtedly
+have been a triumph of oratory had it not been interrupted by Uncle
+Bedny, who rose to emphatically protest against “settin' round and
+wastin' time” when the Bassett's Hollow road “had ruts deep enough to
+drown a cat in whenever there was a more'n average heavy dew.”
+
+The Bassett's Hollow delegate being again temporarily squelched,
+Moderator Knowles announced that nominations for the vacant place on
+the school committee were in order. There was a perceptible stir on the
+settees. This was what the meeting had been waiting for.
+
+“No sign of Cy or Heman yet,” observed Mr. Cahoon, craning his neck in
+the direction of the door. “It's the queerest thing ever I see.”
+
+“Queer enough about Cy, that's a fact,” concurred Captain Dimick. “I
+ain't so surprised about Heman's not comin'. Looks as if Whit was right;
+he always said Atkins dodged a row where folks could watch it. Does most
+of his fightin' from round the corner. Hello! there's Tad. Now you'll
+see the crown of glory set on 'Lonzo Snow's head. Hope the crown's
+padded nice and soft. Anything with sharp edges would sink in.”
+
+But Mr. Simpson, it seemed, was not yet ready to proceed with the
+coronation. He had risen to ask permission of the meeting to defer the
+school committee matter for a short time. Persons, important persons,
+who should be present while the nominating was going on, had not yet
+arrived. He was sure that the gathering would wish to hear from these
+persons. He asked for only a slight delay. Matters such as this,
+affecting the welfare of our posterity, ought not to be hurried, etc.,
+etc.
+
+Mr. Simpson's request was unexpected. The meeting, apparently, didn't
+know how to take it. Uncle Bedny was firmly held in his seat by those
+about him. Lemuel Myrick took the floor to protest.
+
+“I must say,” he declared, “that I don't see any reason for waitin'. If
+folks ain't here, that's their own fault. Mr. Moderator, I demand that
+the nominatin' go ahead.”
+
+Tad was on his feet instantly.
+
+“I'm goin' to appeal,” he cried, “to the decency and gratitude of the
+citizens of the town of Bayport. One of the persons I'm--that is, we're
+waitin' for has done more for our beautiful village than all the rest
+of us put together. There ain't no need for me to name him. A right
+up-to-date town pump, a lovely memorial window, a--”
+
+“How about that harbor appropriation?” cried a voice from the settees.
+
+Mr. Simpson was taken aback. His face flushed and he angrily turned
+toward the interrupter.
+
+“That's you, Joe Dimick!” he shouted, pointing an agitated forefinger.
+“You needn't scooch down. I know your tongue. The idea of you findin'
+fault because a big man like Congressman Atkins don't jump when you
+holler 'Git up!' What do YOU know about doin's at Washington? That
+harbor appropriation 'll go through if anybody on earth can get it
+through. There's other places besides Bayport to be provided for and--”
+
+“And their congressmen provide for 'em,” called another voice. Tad
+whirled to face his new tormentor.
+
+“Huh!” he grunted with sarcasm. “That's Lem Myrick, _I_ know. Lem, the
+great painter, who votes where he paints and gets paid accordin'.”
+
+“Order!” cried several.
+
+“Oh, all right, Mr. Moderator! I'll keep order all right. But I say to
+you, Lem, and you, Joe Dimick, that I know who put these smart notions
+into your heads. We all know, unless we're born fools. Who is it that's
+been sayin' the Honorable Heman Atkins was shirkin' that appropriation?
+Who was it said if HE was representative the thing would have gone
+through afore this? Who's been makin' his brags that he could get it
+through if he had the chance? You know who! So do I! I wish he was here.
+I only wish he was here! I'd say it to his face.”
+
+“Well, he is. Heave ahead and say it.”
+
+Everyone turned toward the door. Captain Cy had entered the hall. He was
+standing in the aisle, and with him was Bailey Bangs. The captain looked
+very tired, almost worn out, but he nodded coolly to Mr. Simpson,
+who had retired to his seat with surprising quickness and apparent
+discomfiture.
+
+“Here I am, Tad,” continued the captain. “Say your piece.”
+
+But Tad, it appeared, was not anxious to “say his piece.” He was
+whispering earnestly with a group of his followers. Captain Cy held up
+his hand.
+
+“Mr. Moderator,” he asked, “can I have the floor a minute? All I want to
+say is that I cal'late I'm the feller the last speaker had reference to.
+I HAVE said that I didn't see why that appropriation was so hard to get.
+I say it again. Other appropriations are got, and why not ours? I DID
+say if I was a congressman I'd get it. Yes, and I'll say more,” he
+added, raising his voice, “I'll say that if I was sent to Washin'ton
+by this town, congressman or not, I'd move heaven and earth, and all
+creation from the President down till I did get it. That's all. So would
+any live man, I should think.”
+
+He sat down. There was some applause. Before it had subsided Abel
+Leonard, one of the quickest-witted of Mr. Simpson's workers, was on his
+feet, gesticulating for attention.
+
+“Mr. Moderator,” he shouted, “I want to make a motion. We've all heard
+the big talk that's been made. All right, then! I move you, sir,
+that Captain Cyrus Whittaker be appointed a committee of one to GO to
+Washin'ton, if he wants to, or anywheres else, and see that we get the
+appropriation. And if we don't get it the blame's his! There, now!”
+
+There was a roar of laughter. This was exactly the sort of “tit-for-tat”
+ humor that appeals to a Yankee crowd. The motion was seconded half a
+dozen times. Moderator Knowles grinned and shook his head.
+
+“A joke's a joke,” he said, “and we all like a good one. However, this
+meetin' is supposed to be for business, not fun, so--”
+
+“Question! Question! It's been seconded! We've got to vote on it!”
+ shouted a chorus.
+
+“Don't you think--seems to me that ain't in order,” began the moderator,
+but Captain Cy rose to his feet. The grim smile had returned to his face
+and he looked at the joyous assemblage with almost his old expression of
+appreciative alertness.
+
+“Never mind the vote,” he said. “I realize that Brother Leonard has
+rather got one on me, so to speak. All right, I won't dodge. I'll BE
+a committee of one on the harbor grab, and if nothin' comes of it I'll
+take my share of kicks. Gentlemen, I appreciate your trustfulness in my
+ability.”
+
+This brief speech was a huge success. If, for a moment, the pendulum
+of public favor had swung toward Simpson, this trumping of the latter's
+leading card pushed it back again. The moderator had some difficulty in
+restoring order to the hilarious meeting.
+
+Then Mr. Myrick was accorded the privilege of the floor, in spite of
+Tad's protests, and proceeded to nominate Cyrus Whittaker for the school
+committee. Lem had devoted hours of toil and wearisome mental struggle
+to the preparation of his address, and it was lengthy and florid.
+Captain Cy was described as possessing all the virtues. Bailey,
+listening with a hand behind his ear, was moved to applause at frequent
+intervals, and even Asaph forgot the dignity of his exalted position on
+the platform and pounded the official desk in ecstasy. The only person
+to appear uninterested was the nominee himself. He sat listlessly in his
+seat, his eyes cast down, and his thoughts apparently far away.
+
+Josiah Dimick seconded the captain's nomination. Then Mr. Simpson
+stepped to the front and, after a wistful glance at the door, began to
+speak.
+
+“Feller citizens,” he said, “it is my privilege to put in nomination for
+school committee a man whose name stands for all that's good and clean
+and progressive in this township. But afore I do it I'm goin' to ask
+you to let me say a word or two concernin' somethin' that bears right on
+this matter, and which, I believe, everyone of you ought to know. It's
+somethin' that most of you don't know, and it'll be a surprise, a big
+surprise. I'll be as quick as I can, and I cal'late you'll thank me when
+I'm done.”
+
+He paused. The meeting looked at each other in astonishment. There was
+whispering along the settees. Moderator Knowles was plainly puzzled. He
+looked inquiringly at the town clerk, but Asaph was evidently quite as
+much in the dark as he concerning the threatened disclosure.
+
+“Feller Bayporters,” went on Tad, “there's one thing we've all agreed
+on, no matter who we've meant to vote for. That is, that a member of our
+school committee should be an upright, honest man, one fit morally to
+look out for our dear children. Ain't that so? Well, then, I ask you
+this: Would you consider a man fit for that job who deliberately came
+between a father and his child, who pizened the mind of that child
+against his own parent, and when that parent come to claim that child,
+first tried to buy him off and then turned him out of the house? Yes,
+and offered violence to him. And done it--mark what I say--for reasons
+which--which--well, we can only guess 'em, but the guess may not be so
+awful bad. Is THAT the kind of man we want to honor or to look out for
+our own children's schoolin'?”
+
+Mr. Simpson undoubtedly meant to cause a sensation by his opening
+remarks. He certainly did so. The stir and whispering redoubled. Asaph,
+his mouth open, stared wildly down at Captain Cy. The captain rose to
+his feet, then sank back again. His listlessness was gone and, paying no
+attention to those about him, he gazed fixedly at Tad.
+
+“Gentlemen,” continued the speaker, “last night I had an experience that
+I shan't forget as long as I live. I met a poor man, a poor, lame man
+who'd been away out West and got hurt bad. Folks thought he was dead.
+His wife thought so and died grievin' for him. She left a little baby
+girl, only seven or eight year old. When this man come back, well again
+but poor, to look up his family, he found his wife had passed away and
+the child had been sent off, just to get rid of her, to a stranger in
+another town. That stranger fully meant to send her off, too; he said so
+dozens of times. A good many of you folks right here heard him say it.
+But he never sent her--he kept her. Why? Well, that's the question. _I_
+shan't answer it. _I_ ain't accusin' nobody. All I say is, what's easy
+enough for any of you to prove, and that is that it come to light the
+child had property belongin' to her. Property! land, wuth money!”
+
+He paused once more and drew his sleeve across his forehead. Most of
+his hearers were silent now, on tiptoe of expectation. Dimick looked
+searchingly at Captain Cy. Then he sprang to his feet.
+
+“Order!” he shouted. “What's all this got to do with nominatin' for
+school committee? Ain't he out of order, Alvin?”
+
+The moderator hesitated. His habitual indecision was now complicated
+by the fact that he was as curious as the majority of those before him.
+There were shouts of, “Go ahead, Tad!” “Tell us the rest!” “Let him go
+on, Mr. Moderator!”
+
+Cy Whittaker slowly rose.
+
+“Alvin,” he said earnestly, “don't stop him yet. As a favor to me, let
+him spin his yarn.”
+
+Simpson was ready and evidently eager to spin it.
+
+“This man,” he proclaimed, “this father, mournin' for his dead wife and
+longin' for his child, comes to the town where he was to find and take
+her. And when he meets the man that's got her, when he comes, poor and
+down on his luck, what does this man--this rich man--do? Why; fust of
+all, he's sweeter'n sirup to him, takes him in, keeps him overnight,
+and the next day he says to him: 'You just be quiet and say nothin' to
+nobody that she's your little girl. I'll make it wuth your while.
+Keep quiet till I'm ready for you to say it.' And he gives the father
+money--not much, but some. All right so fur, maybe; but wait! Then it
+turns out that the father knows about this land--this property. And
+THEN the kind, charitable man--this rich man with lots of money of his
+own--turns the poor father out, tellin' him to get the girl and the land
+if he can, knowin'--KNOWIN', mind you--that the father ain't got a cent
+to hire lawyers nor even to pay for his next meal. And when the father
+says he won't go, but wants his dear one that belongs to him, the rich
+feller abuses him, knocks him down with his fist! Knocks down a poor,
+weak, lame invalid, just off a sick bed! Is THAT the kind of a man we
+want on our school committee?”
+
+He asked the question with both hands outspread and the perspiration
+running down his cheeks. The meeting was in an uproar.
+
+“No need for me to tell you who I mean,” shouted Tad, waving his arms.
+“You know who, as well as I do. You've just heard him praised as bein'
+all that's good and great. But _I_ say--”
+
+“You've said enough! Now let me say a word!”
+
+It was Captain Cy who interrupted. He had pushed his way through the
+crowd, down the aisle, and now stood before the gesticulating Mr.
+Simpson, who shrank back as if he feared that the treatment accorded the
+“poor weak invalid” might be continued with him.
+
+“Knowles,” said Captain Cy, turning to the moderator, “let me speak,
+will you? I won't be but a minute. Friends,” he continued, facing the
+excited gathering--“for some of you are my friends, or I've come to
+think you are--a part of what this man says is so. The girl at my house
+is Emily Thomas; her mother was Mary Thomas, who some of you know, and
+her father's name is Henry Thomas. She came to me unexpected, bein' sent
+by a Mrs. Oliver up to Concord, because 'twas either me or an orphan
+asylum. I took her in meanin' to keep her a little while, and then send
+her away. But as time went on I kept puttin' off and puttin' off, and at
+last I realized I couldn't do it; I'd come to think too much of her.
+
+“Fellers,” he went on, slowly, “I--I hardly know how to tell you what
+that little girl's come to be to me. When I first struck Bayport, after
+forty years away from it, all I thought of was makin' over the old place
+and livin' in it. I cal'lated it would be a sort of Paradise, and HOW I
+was goin' to live or whether or not I'd be lonesome with everyone of my
+folks dead and gone, never crossed my mind. But the longer I lived there
+alone the less like Paradise it got to be; I realized more and more
+that it ain't furniture and fixin's that make a home; it's them you love
+that's in it. And just as I'd about reached the conclusion that 'twas a
+failure, the whole business, why, then, Bos'n--Emily, that is--dropped
+in, and inside of a week I knew I'd got what was missin' in my life.
+
+“I never married and children never meant much to me till I got her.
+She's the best little--little . . . There! I mustn't talk this way. I
+bluffed a lot about not keepin' her permanent, bein' kind of ashamed,
+I guess, but down inside me I'd made up my mind to bring her up like
+a daughter. She and me was to live together till she grew up and got
+married and I . . . Well, what's the use? A few days ago come a letter
+from the Oliver woman in Concord sayin' that this Henry Thomas, Bos'n's
+father, wan't dead at all, but had turned up there, havin' learned
+somehow or 'nother that his wife was gone and that his child had been
+willed a little bit of land which belonged to her mother. He had found
+out that Emmie was with me, and the letter said he would likely come
+after her--and the land.
+
+“That letter was like a flash of lightnin' to me. I was dismasted and
+on my beam ends. I didn't know what to do. I'd learned enough about this
+Henry Thomas to know that he was no use, a drunken, good-for-nothin'
+scamp who had cruelized his wife and then run off and left her and the
+baby. But when he come, the very night I got the letter, I gave him a
+chance. I took him in; I was willin' to give him a job on the place;
+I was willin' to pay for his keep, and more. I DID ask him to keep his
+mouth shut and even to use another name. 'Twas weak of me, maybe, but
+you want to remember this had come on me sudden. And last night--the
+very second night, mind you--he went out somewhere, perhaps we can guess
+where, bought liquor with the money I gave him, got drunk, and then
+insulted one of the best women in this town. Yes, sir! I say it right
+here, one of the best, pluckiest little women anywhere, although she and
+I ain't always agreed on certain matters. I DID tell him to clear out,
+and I DID knock him down. Yes, and by the big dipper, I'd do it again
+under the same circumstances!
+
+“As for the property,” he added fiercely, “why, darn the property, I
+say! It ain't wuth much, anyhow, and, if 'twas anybody's else, he should
+have it and welcome. But it's Bos'n's, and, bein' what he is, he SHAN'T
+have it. And he shan't have HER to cruelize, neither! By the Almighty!
+he shan't, so long as I've got a dollar to fight him with. I say that to
+you, Tad Simpson, and to the man--to whoever put you up to this. There!
+I've said my say. Now, gentlemen, you can choose your side.”
+
+He strode back to his seat. There was silence for a moment. Then Josiah
+Dimick sprang up and waved his hat.
+
+“That's the way to talk!” he shouted. “That's a MAN! Three cheers for
+Cap'n Whittaker! Come on, everybody!”
+
+But everybody did not “come on.” The cheers were feeble. It was evident
+that the majority of those present did not know how to meet this
+unexpected contingency. It had taken them by surprise and they were
+undecided. The uproar of argument and question began again, louder than
+ever. The bewildered moderator thumped his desk and shouted feebly for
+order. Tad Simpson took the floor and, in a few words and at the top of
+his lungs, nominated Alonzo Snow. Abel Leonard seconded the nomination.
+There were yells of “Question! Question!” and “Vote! Vote!”
+
+Eben Salters was recognized by the chair. Captain Salters made few
+speeches, and when he did make one it was because he had something to
+say.
+
+“Mr. Moderator,” he said, “I, for one, hate to vote just now. It isn't
+that the school committee is so important of itself. But I do think that
+the rights of a father with his child IS pretty important, and our vote
+for Cap'n Whittaker--and most of you know I intended votin' for him
+and have been workin' for him--might seem like an indorsement of his
+position. This whole thing is a big surprise to me. I don't feel yet
+that we know enough of the inside facts to give such an indorsement. I'd
+like to see this Thomas man before I decide to give it--or not to give
+it, either. It's a queer thing to come up at town meetin', but it's up.
+Hadn't we better adjourn until next week?”
+
+He sat down. The meeting was demoralized. Some were shouting for
+adjournment, others to “Vote it out.” A straw would turn the scale and
+the straw was forthcoming. While Captain Cy was speaking the door had
+silently opened and two men entered the hall and sought seclusion in a
+corner. Now one of these men came forward--the Honorable Heman Atkins.
+
+Mr. Atkins walked solemnly to the front, amidst a burst of recognition.
+Many of the voters rose to receive him. It was customary, when the great
+man condescended to attend such gatherings, to offer him a seat on the
+platform. This the obsequious Knowles proceeded to do. Asaph was
+too overcome by the disclosure of “John Smith's” identity and by Mr.
+Simpson's attack on his friend to remember even his manners. He did not
+rise, but sat stonily staring.
+
+The moderator's gavel descended “Order!” he roared. “Order, I say!
+Congressman Atkins is goin' to talk to us.”
+
+The Honorable Heman faced the excited crowd. One hand was in the breast
+of his frock coat; the other was clenched upon his hip. He stood calm,
+benignant, dignified--the incarnation of wisdom and righteous worth. The
+attitude had its effect; the applause began and grew to an ovation.
+Men who had intended voting against his favored candidate forgot their
+intention, in the magnetism of his presence, and cheered. He bowed and
+bowed again.
+
+“Fellow townsmen,” he began, “far be it from me to influence your choice
+in the matter of the school committee. Still further be it from me to
+influence you against an old boyhood friend, a neighbor, one whom I
+believe--er--had believed to be all that was sincere and true. But,
+fellow townsmen, my esteemed friend, Captain Salters, has expressed a
+wish to see Mr. Thomas, the father whose story you have heard to-day.
+I happen to be in a position to gratify that wish. Mr. Thomas, will you
+kindly come forward?”
+
+Then from the rear of the hall Mr. Thomas came. But the drunken rowdy
+of the night before had been transformed. Gone was the scrubby beard
+and the shabby suit. Shorn was the unkempt mop of hair and vanished the
+impudent swagger. He was dressed in clean linen and respectable black,
+and his manner was modest and subdued. Only a discoloration of one eye
+showed where Captain Cy's blow had left its mark.
+
+He stepped upon the platform beside the congressman. The latter laid a
+hand upon his shoulder.
+
+“Gentlemen and friends,” said Heman, “my name has been brought into
+this controversy, by Mr. Simpson directly, and in insinuation
+by--er--another. Therefore it is my right to make my position clear. Mr.
+Thomas came to me last evening in distress, both of mind and body. He
+told me his story--substantially the story which has just been told
+to you by Mr. Simpson--and, gentlemen, I believe it. But if I did not
+believe it, if I believed him to have been in the past all that his
+opponent has said; even if I believed that, only last evening, spurned,
+driven from his child, penniless and hopeless, he had yielded to the
+weakness which has been his curse all his life--even if I believed that,
+still I should demand that Henry Thomas, repentant and earnest as you
+see him now, should be given his rightful opportunity to become a
+man again. He is poor, but he is not--shall not be--friendless. No! a
+thousand times, no! You may say, some of you, that the affair is not
+my business. I affirm that it IS my business. It is my business as a
+Christian, and that business should come before all others. I have not
+allowed sympathy to influence me. If that were the case, my regard for
+my neighbor and friend of former days would have held me firm. But,
+gentlemen, I have a child of my own. I know what a father's love is, as
+only a father can know it. And, after a sleepless night, I stand here
+before you to-day determined that this man shall have his own, if
+my money--which you will, I'm sure, forgive my mentioning--and my
+unflinching support can give it to him. That is my position, and I state
+it regardless of consequences.” He paused, and with raised right hand,
+like the picture of Jove in the old academy mythology, launched his
+final thunderbolt. “Whom God hath joined,” he proclaimed, “let no one
+put asunder!”
+
+That settled it. The cheers shook the walls. Amidst the tumult Dimick
+and Bailey Bangs seized Captain Cy by the shoulders and endeavored to
+lift him from his seat.
+
+“For the love of goodness, Whit!” groaned Josiah, desperately, “stand up
+and answer him. If you don't, we'll founder sure.”
+
+The captain smiled grimly and shook his head. He had not taken his eyes
+from the face of the great Atkins since the latter began speaking.
+
+“What?” he replied. “After that 'put asunder' sockdolager? Man alive! do
+you want me to add Sabbath breakin' to my other crimes?”
+
+The vote, by ballot, followed almost immediately. It was pitiful to see
+the erstwhile Whittaker majority melt away. Alonzo Snow was triumphantly
+elected. But a handful voted against him.
+
+Captain Cy, still grimly smiling, rose and left the hall. As he closed
+the door, he heard the shrill voice of Uncle Bedny demanding justice for
+the Bassett's Hollow road.
+
+It had, indeed, been a “memoriable” town meeting.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE REPULSE
+
+
+When Deacon Zeb Clark--the same Deacon Zeb who fell into the cistern,
+as narrated by Captain Cy--made his first visit to the city, years and
+years ago, he stayed but two days. As he had proudly boasted that he
+should remain in the metropolis at least a week, our people were much
+surprised at his premature return. To the driver of the butcher cart who
+found him sitting contentedly before his dwelling, amidst his desolate
+acres, the nearest neighbor a half mile away, did Deacon Zeb disclose
+his reason for leaving the crowded thoroughfares. “There was so many
+folks there,” he said, “that I felt lonesome.”
+
+And Captain Cy, returning from the town meeting to the Whittaker place,
+felt lonesome likewise. Not for the Deacon's reason--he met no one on
+the main road, save a group of school children and Miss Phinney, and,
+sighting the latter in the offing, he dodged behind the trees by the
+schoolhouse pond and waited until she passed. But the captain, his
+trouble now heavy upon him, did feel the need of sympathy and congenial
+companionship. He knew he might count upon Dimick and Asaph, and,
+whenever Keturah's supervision could be evaded, upon Mr. Bangs. But they
+were not the advisers and comforters for this hour of need. All the rest
+of Bayport, he felt sure, would be against him. Had not King Heman
+the Great from the steps of the throne, banned him with the royal
+displeasure! “If Heman ever SHOULD come right out and say--” began
+Asaph's warning. Well, strange as it might seem, Heman had “come right
+out.”
+
+As to why he had come out there was no question in the mind of the
+captain. The latter had left Mr. Thomas, the prodigal father, prostrate
+and blasphemous in the road the previous evening. His next view of
+him was when, transformed and sanctified, he had been summoned to the
+platform by Mr. Atkins. No doubt he had returned to the barber shop
+and, in his rage and under Mr. Simpson's cross examination, had revealed
+something of the truth. Tad, the politician, recognizing opportunity
+when it knocked at his door, had hurried him to the congressman's
+residence. The rest was plain enough, so Captain Cy thought.
+
+However, war was already declared, and the reasons for it mattered
+little. The first skirmish might occur at any moment. The situation was
+desperate. The captain squared his shoulders, thrust forward his chin,
+and walked briskly up the path to the door of the dining room. It was
+nearly one o'clock, but Bos'n had not yet gone. She was waiting, to the
+very last minute, for her “Uncle Cyrus.”
+
+“Hello, shipmate,” he hailed. “Not headed for school yet? Good! I
+cal'late you needn't go this afternoon. I'm thinkin' of hirin' a team
+and drivin' to Ostable, and I didn't know but you'd like to go with me.
+Think you could, without that teacher woman havin' you brought up aft
+for mutiny?”
+
+Bos'n thought it over.
+
+“Yes, sir,” she said; “I guess so, if you wrote me an excuse. I don't
+like to be absent, 'cause I haven't been before, but there's only my
+reading lesson this afternoon and I know that ever so well. I'd love to
+go, Uncle Cy.”
+
+The captain removed his coat and hat and pulled a chair forward to the
+table.
+
+“Hello!” he exclaimed. “What's this--the mail?”
+
+Bos'n smiled delightedly.
+
+“Yes, sir,” she replied. “I knew you was at the meeting and so I brought
+it from the office. Ain't you glad?”
+
+“Sure! Yes, indeed! Much obliged. Tryin' to keep house without you would
+be like steerin' without a rudder.”
+
+Even as he said it there came to him the realization that he might have
+to steer without that rudder in the near future. His smile vanished. He
+smothered a groan and picked up the mail.
+
+“Hum!” he mused, “the Breeze, a circular, and one letter. Hello! it
+isn't possible that--Well! well!”
+
+The letter was in a long envelope. He hastily tore it open. At the
+inclosure he glanced in evident excitement. Then his smile returned.
+
+“Bos'n,” he said, after a moment's reflection, “I guess you and me
+won't have to go to Ostable after all.” Noticing the child's look of
+disappointment, he added: “But you needn't go to school. Maybe you'd
+better not. You and me'll take a tramp alongshore. What do you say?”
+
+“Oh, yes, Uncle Cy! Let's--shall we?”
+
+“Why, I don't see why not. We'll cruise in company as long as we
+can, hey, little girl? The squall's likely to strike afore night,” he
+muttered half aloud. “We'll enjoy the fine weather till it's time to
+shorten sail.”
+
+They walked all that afternoon. Captain Cy was even more kind and gentle
+with his small companion than usual. He told her stories which made her
+laugh, pointed out spots in the pines where he had played Indian when a
+boy, carried her “pig back” when she grew tired, and kissed her tenderly
+when, at the back door of the Whittaker place, he set her on her feet
+again.
+
+“Had a good time, dearie?” he asked.
+
+“Oh, splendid! I think it's the best walk we ever had, don't you, Uncle
+Cy?”
+
+“I shouldn't wonder. You won't forget our cruises together when you are
+a big girl and off somewheres else, will you?”
+
+“I'll NEVER forget 'em. And I'm never going anywhere without you.”
+
+It was after five as they entered the kitchen.
+
+“Anybody been here while I was out?” asked the captain of Georgianna.
+The housekeeper's eyes were red and swollen, and she hugged Bos'n as she
+helped her off with her jacket and hood.
+
+“Yes, there has,” was the decided answer. “First Ase Tidditt, and then
+Bailey Bangs, and then that--that Angie Phinney.”
+
+“Humph!” mused Captain Cy slowly. “So Angie was here, was she? Where the
+carcass is the vultures are on deck, or words similar. Humph! Did our
+Angelic friend have much to say?”
+
+“DID she? And _I_ had somethin' to say, too! I never in my life!”
+
+“Humph!” Her employer eyed her sharply. “So? And so soon? Talk about
+the telegraph spreadin' news! I'd back most any half dozen tongues in
+Bayport to spread more news, and add more trimmin' to it, in a day
+than the telegraph could do in a week. Especially if all the telegraph
+operators was like the one up at the depot. Well, Georgianna, when you
+goin' to leave?”
+
+“Leave? Leave where? What are you talkin' about?”
+
+“Leave here. Of course you realize that this ship of ours,” indicating
+the house by a comprehensive wave of his hand around the room, “is goin'
+to be a mighty unpopular craft from now on. We may be on a lee shore any
+minute. You've got your own well-bein' to think of.”
+
+“My own well-bein'! What do you s'pose I care for my well-bein' when
+there's--Cap'n Whittaker, you tell me now! Is it so?”
+
+“Some of it is--yes. He's come back and he's who he says he is. You've
+seen him. He was here all day yesterday.”
+
+“So Angie said, but I couldn't scarcely believe it. That toughy! Cap'n
+Whittaker, do you intend to hand over that poor little innocent thing
+to--to such a man as THAT?”
+
+“No. There'll be no handin' over about it. But the odds are against us,
+and there's no reason why you should be in the rumpus, Georgianna. You
+may not understand what we're facin'.”
+
+The housekeeper drew herself up. Her face was very red and her small
+eyes snapped.
+
+“Cy Whittaker,” she began, manners and deference to employer alike
+forgotten, “don't you say no more of that wicked foolishness to me. I'll
+leave the minute you're mean-spirited enough to let that child go and
+not afore. And when THAT happens I'll be GLAD to leave. Land sakes!
+there's somebody at the door; and I expect I'm a perfect sight.”
+
+She rubbed her face with her apron, thereby making it redder than ever,
+and hurried into the dining room.
+
+“Bos'n,” said Captain Cy quickly, “you stay here in the kitchen.”
+
+Emmie looked at him in surprised bewilderment, but she suppressed her
+curiosity concerning the identity of the person who had knocked, and
+obeyed. The captain pulled the kitchen door almost shut and listened at
+the crack.
+
+The first spoken words by the visitor appeared to relieve Captain Cy's
+anxiety; but they seemed to astonish him greatly.
+
+“Why!” he exclaimed in a whisper. “Ain't that--It sounds like--”
+
+“It's teacher,” whispered Bos'n, who also had been listening. “She's
+come to find out why I wasn't at school. You tell her, Uncle Cy.”
+
+Georgianna returned to announce:
+
+“It's Miss Dawes. She says she wants to see you, Cap'n. She's in the
+settin' room.”
+
+The captain drew a long breath. Then, repeating his command to Emmie to
+stay where she was, he left the room, closing the door behind him. The
+latter procedure roused Bos'n's indignation.
+
+“What made him do that?” she demanded. “I haven't been bad. He NEVER
+shut me up before!”
+
+The schoolmistress was standing by the center table in the sitting room
+when Captain Cy entered.
+
+“Good evenin',” he said politely. “Won't you sit down?”
+
+But Miss Dawes paid no attention to trivialities. She seemed much
+agitated.
+
+“Cap'n Whittaker,” she began, “I just heard something that--”
+
+The captain interrupted her.
+
+“Excuse me,” he said, “but I think we'll pull down the curtains and have
+a little light on the subject. It gets dark early now, especially of a
+gray day like this one.”
+
+He drew the shades at the windows and lit the lamp on the table. The red
+glow behind the panes of the stove door faded into insignificance as
+the yellow radiance brightened. The ugly portraits and the stiff old
+engravings on the wall retired into a becoming dusk. The old-fashioned
+room became more homelike.
+
+“Now won't you sit down?” repeated Captain Cy. “Take that rocker; it's
+the most comf'table one aboard--so Bos'n says, anyhow.”
+
+Miss Phoebe took the rocker, under protest. Her host remained standing.
+
+“It's been a nice afternoon,” he said. “Bos'n--Emmie, of course--and I
+have been for a walk. 'Twan't her fault, 'twas mine. I kept her out of
+school. I was--well, kind of lonesome.”
+
+The teacher's gray eyes flashed in the lamplight.
+
+“Cap'n Whittaker,” she cried, “please don't waste time. I didn't come
+here to talk about the weather nor Emily's reason for not attending
+school. I don't care why she was absent. But I have just heard of what
+happened at that meeting. Is it true that--” She hesitated.
+
+“That Emmie's dad is alive and here? Yes, it's true.”
+
+“But--but that man last night? Was he THAT man?”
+
+The captain nodded.
+
+“That's the man,” he said briefly.
+
+Miss Dawes shuddered.
+
+“Cap'n Whittaker,” she asked earnestly, “are you sure he is really her
+father? Absolutely sure?”
+
+“Sure and sartin.”
+
+“Then she belongs to him, doesn't she? Legally, I mean?”
+
+“Maybe so.”
+
+“Are--are you going to give her up to him?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Then what I heard was true. You did say at the meeting that you were
+going to do your best to keep him from getting her.”
+
+“Um--hum! What I said amounts to just about that.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+Captain Cy was surprised and a little disappointed apparently.
+
+“Why?” he repeated.
+
+“Yes. Why?”
+
+“Well, for reasons I've got.”
+
+“Do you mind telling me the reasons?”
+
+“I cal'late you don't want to hear 'em. If you don't understand now,
+then I can't make it much plainer, I'm afraid.”
+
+The little lady sprang to her feet.
+
+“Oh, you are provoking!” she cried indignantly. “Can't you see that I
+want to hear the reasons from you yourself? Cap'n Whittaker, I shook
+hands with you last night.”
+
+“You remember I told you you'd better wait.”
+
+“I didn't want to wait. I believed I knew something of human nature, and
+I believed I had learned to understand you. I made up my mind to pay
+no more attention to what people said against you. I thought they were
+envious and disliked you because you did things in your own way. I
+wouldn't believe the stories I heard this afternoon. I wanted to hear
+you speak in your own defense and you refuse to do it. Don't you
+know what people are saying? They say you are trying to keep Emily
+because--Oh, I'm ashamed to ask it, but you make me: HAS the child got
+valuable property of her own?”
+
+Captain Cy had been, throughout this scene, standing quietly by the
+table. Now he took a step forward.
+
+“Miss Dawes,” he said sharply, “sit down.”
+
+“But I--”
+
+“Sit down, please.”
+
+The schoolmistress didn't mean to obey the order, but for some reason
+she did. The captain went on speaking.
+
+“It's pretty plain,” he said, “that what you heard at the boardin'
+house--for I suppose that's where you did hear it--was what you might
+call a Phinneyized story of the doin's at the meetin'. Well, there's
+another yarn, and it's mine; I'm goin' to spin it and I want you to
+listen.”
+
+He went on to spin his yarn. It was practically a repetition of his
+reply to Tad Simpson that morning. Its conclusion was also much the
+same.
+
+“The land ain't worth fifty dollars,” he declared, “but if it was fifty
+million he shouldn't have it. Why? Because it belongs to that little
+girl. And he shan't have her until he and those back of him have
+hammered me through the courts till I'm down forty fathom under water.
+And when they do get her--and, to be honest, I cal'late they will in
+the end--I hope to God I won't be alive to see it! There! I've answered
+you.”
+
+He was walking up and down the room, with the old quarter-deck stride,
+his hands jammed deep in his pockets and his face working with emotion.
+
+“It's pretty nigh a single-handed fight for me,” he continued, “but I've
+fought single-handed before. The other side's got almost all the powder
+and the men. Heman and Tad and that Thomas have got seven eighths of
+Bayport behind 'em, not to mention the 'Providence' they're so sure of.
+My crowd is a mighty forlorn hope: Dimick and Ase Tidditt, and Bailey,
+as much as his wife 'll let him. Oh, yes!” and he smiled whimsically,
+“there's another one. A new recruit's just joined; Georgianna's
+enlisted. That's my army. Sort of rag-jacketed cadets, we are, small
+potatoes, and few in a hill.”
+
+The teacher rose and laid a hand on his arm. He turned toward her. The
+lamplight shone upon her face, and he saw, to his astonishment, that
+there were tears in her eyes.
+
+“Cap'n Whittaker,” she said, “will you take an other recruit? I should
+like to enlist, please.”
+
+“You? Oh, pshaw! I'm thick-headed to-night. I didn't see the joke of it
+at first.”
+
+“There isn't any joke. I want you to know that I admire you for the
+fight you're making. Law or no law, to let that dear little girl go away
+with that dreadful father of hers is a sin and a crime. I came here to
+tell you so. I did want to hear your story, and you made me ask that
+question; but I was certain of your answer before you made it. I don't
+suppose I can do anything to help, but I'm going to try. So, you see,
+your army is bigger than you thought it was--though the new soldier
+isn't good for much, I'm afraid,” she added, with a little smile.
+
+Captain Cy was greatly disturbed.
+
+“Miss Phoebe,” he said, “I--I won't say that it don't please me to
+have you talk so, for it does, more'n you can imagine. Sympathy means
+somethin' to the under dog, and it gives him spunk to keep on kickin'.
+But you mustn't take any part in the row; you simply mustn't. It won't
+do.”
+
+“Why not? Won't I be ANY help?”
+
+“Help? You'd be more help than all the rest of us put together. You and
+me haven't seen a great deal of each other, and my part in the few talks
+we have had has been a mean one, but I knew the first time I met
+you that you had more brains and common sense than any woman in this
+county--though I was too pig-headed to own it. But that ain't it. I got
+you the job of teacher. It's no credit to me; 'twas just bull luck and
+for the fun of jarrin' Heman. But I did it. And, because I did it, the
+Atkins crowd--and that means most everybody now--haven't any love for
+you. My tryin' for school committee was really just to give you a fair
+chance in your position. I was licked, so the committee's two to one
+against you. Don't you see that you mustn't have anything to do with me?
+Don't you SEE it?”
+
+She shook her head.
+
+“I see that common gratitude alone should be reason enough for my trying
+to help you,” she said. “But, beside that, I know you are right, and I
+SHALL help, no matter what you say. As for the teacher's position, let
+them discharge me. I--”
+
+“Don't talk that way. The youngsters need you, and know it, no matter
+what their fool fathers and mothers say. And you mustn't wreck your
+chances. You're young--”
+
+She laughed.
+
+“Oh, no! I'm not,” she said. “Young! Cap'n Whittaker, you shouldn't joke
+about a woman's age.”
+
+“I ain't jokin'. You ARE young.” As she stood there before him he was
+realizing, with a curiously uncomfortable feeling, how much younger she
+was than he. He glanced up at the mirror, where his own gray hairs were
+reflected, and repeated his assertion. “You're young yet,” he said, “and
+bein' discharged from a place might mean a whole lot to you. I'm
+glad you take such an interest in Bos'n, and your comin' here on her
+account--”
+
+He paused. Miss Dawes colored slightly and said:
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Your comin' here on her account was mighty good of you. But you've got
+to keep out of this trouble. And you mustn't come here again. That's
+owner's orders. Why, I'm expectin' a boardin' party any minute,” he
+added. “I thought when you knocked it was 'papa' comin' for his child.
+You'd better go.”
+
+But she stood still.
+
+“I shan't go,” she declared. “Or, at least, not until you promise to
+let me try to help you. If they come, so much the better. They'll learn
+where my sympathies are.”
+
+Captain Cy scratched his head.
+
+“See here, Miss Phoebe,” he said. “I ain't sure that you fully
+understand that Scripture and everything else is against us. Did Angie
+turn loose on you the 'Whom the Lord has joined' avalanche?”
+
+The schoolmistress burst into a laugh. The captain laughed, too, but
+his gravity quickly returned. For steps sounded on the walk, there was a
+whispering outside, and some one knocked on the dining-room door.
+
+The situation was similar to that of the evening when the Board of
+Strategy called and “John Smith” made his first appearance. But now,
+oddly enough, Captain Cy seemed much less troubled. He looked at Miss
+Dawes and there was a dancing twinkle in his eye.
+
+“Is it--” began the lady, in an agitated whisper.
+
+“The boardin' party? I presume likely.”
+
+“But what can you do?”
+
+“Stand by the repel, I guess,” was the calm reply. “I told you that they
+had most of the ammunition, but ours ain't all blank cartridges. You
+stay below and listen to the broadsides.”
+
+They heard Georgianna cross the dining room. There was a murmur of
+voices at the door. The captain nodded.
+
+“It's them,” he said. “Well, here goes. Now don't you show yourself.”
+
+“Do you think I am afraid? Indeed, I shan't stay 'below' as you call it!
+I shall let them see--”
+
+Captain Cy held up his hand.
+
+“I'm commodore of this fleet,” he said; “and that bein' the case, I
+expect my crew to obey orders. There's nothin' you can do, and--Why,
+yes! there is, too. You can take care of Bos'n. Georgianna,” to the
+housekeeper who, looking frightened and nervous, had appeared at the
+door, “send Bos'n in here quick.”
+
+“They're there,” whispered Georgianna. “Mr. Atkins and Tad and that
+Thomas critter, and lots more. And they've come after her. What shall we
+do?”
+
+“Jump when I speak to you, that's the first thing. Send Bos'n in here
+and you stay in your galley.”
+
+Emily came running. Miss Dawes put an arm about her. Captain Cy, the
+battle lanterns still twinkling under his brows, stepped forth to meet
+the “boarding party.”
+
+They were there, as Georgianna had said. Mr. Thomas on the top step,
+Heman and Simpson on the next lower, and behind them Abel Leonard and a
+group of interested volunteers, principally recruited from the back room
+of the barber shop.
+
+“Evenin', gentlemen,” said the captain, opening the door so briskly that
+Mr. Thomas started backward and came down heavily upon the toes of the
+devoted Tad. Mr. Simpson swore, Mr. Thomas clawed about him to gain
+equilibrium, and the dignity of the group was seriously impaired.
+
+“Evenin',” repeated Captain Cy. “Quite a surprise party you're givin'
+me. Come in.”
+
+“Cyrus,” began the Honorable Atkins, “we are here to claim--”
+
+“Give me my daughter, you robber!” demanded Thomas, from his new
+position in the rear of the other two.
+
+“Mr. Thomas,” said Heman, “please remember that I am conducting this
+affair. I respect the natural indignation of an outraged father,
+but--ahem! Cyrus, we are here to claim--”
+
+“Then do your claimin' inside. It's kind of chilly to-night, there's
+plenty of empty chairs, and we don't need to hold an overflow meetin'.
+Come ahead in.”
+
+The trio looked at each other in hesitation. Then Mr. Atkins
+majestically entered the dining room. Thomas and Simpson followed him.
+
+“Abe,” observed Captain Cy to Leonard, who was advancing toward the
+steps, “I'm sorry not to be hospitable, but there's too many of you to
+invite at once, and 'tain't polite to show partiality. You and the rest
+are welcome to sit on the terrace or stroll 'round the deer park. Good
+night.”
+
+He closed the door in the face of the disappointed Abel and turned to
+the three in the room.
+
+“Well,” he said, “out with it. You've come to claim somethin', I
+understand.”
+
+“I come for my rights,” shouted Mr. Thomas.
+
+“Yes? Well, this ain't State's prison or I'd give 'em to you with
+pleasure. Heman, you'd better do the talkin'. We'll probably get ahead
+faster.”
+
+The Honorable cleared his throat and waved his hand.
+
+“Cyrus,” he began, “you are my boyhood friend and my fellow townsman and
+neighbor. Under such circumstances it gives me pain--”
+
+“Then don't let us discuss painful subjects. Let's get down to business.
+You've come to rescue Bos'n--Emily, that is,--from the 'robber'--I'm
+quotin' Deacon Thomas here--that's got her, so's to turn her over to her
+sorrowin' father. Is that it? Yes. Well, you can't have her--not yet.”
+
+“Cyrus,” said Mr. Atkins, “I'm sorry to see that you take it this way.
+You haven't the shadow of a right. We have the law with us, and your
+conduct will lead us to invoke it. The constable is outside. Shall I
+call him in?”
+
+“Uncle Bedny” was the town constable and had been since before the war.
+The purely honorary office was given him each year as a joke. Captain Cy
+grinned broadly, and even Tad was obliged to smile.
+
+“Don't be inhuman, Heman,” urged the captain. “You wouldn't turn me over
+to be man-handled by Uncle Bedny, would you?”
+
+“This is not a humorous affair--” began the congressman, with dignity.
+But the “bereaved father” had been prospecting on his own hook, and now
+he peeped into the sitting room.
+
+“Here she is!” he shouted. “I see her. Come on, Emmie! Your dad's come
+for you. Let go of her, you woman! What do you mean by holdin' on to
+her?”
+
+The situation which was “not humorous” immediately became much less so.
+The next minute was a lively one. It ended as Mr. Thomas was picked up
+by Tad from the floor, where he had fallen, having been pushed violently
+over a chair by Captain Cy. Bos'n, frightened and sobbing, was clinging
+wildly to Miss Dawes, who had clung just as firmly to her. The captain's
+voice rang through the room.
+
+“That's enough,” he said. “That's enough and some over. Atkins, take
+that feller out of this house and off my premises. As for the girl,
+that's for us to fight out in the courts. I'm her guardian,
+lawfully appointed, and you nor nobody else can touch her while that
+appointment's good. Here it is--right here. Now look at it and clear
+out.”
+
+He held, for the congressman's inspection, the document which, inclosed
+in the long envelope, had been received that morning. His visit to
+Ostable, made some weeks before, had been for the purpose of applying
+to the probate court for the appointment as Emily's guardian. He had
+applied before the news of her father's coming to life reached him. The
+appointment itself had arrived just in time.
+
+Mr. Atkins studied the document with care. When he spoke it was with
+considerable agitation and without his usual diplomacy.
+
+“Humph!” he grunted. “Humph! I see. Well, sir, I have some influence in
+this section and I shall see how long your--your TRICK will prevent the
+child's going where she belongs. I wish you to understand that I shall
+continue this fight to the very last. I--I am not one to be easily
+beaten. Simpson, you and Thomas come with me. This night's despicable
+chicanery is only the beginning. This is bad business for you, Cy
+Whittaker,” he snarled, his self-control vanishing, “and”--with a
+vindictive glance at the schoolmistress--“for those who are with you in
+it. That appointment was obtained under false pretenses and I can prove
+it. Your tricks don't scare me. I've had experience with TRICKS before.”
+
+“Yup. So I've heard. Well, Heman, I ain't as well up in tricks as you
+claim to be, nor my stockin' isn't as well padded as yours, maybe. But
+while there's a ten-cent piece left in the toe of it I'll fight you and
+the skunk whose 'rights' you seem to have taken such a shine to. And,
+after that, while there's a lawyer that 'll trust me. And, meantime,
+that little girl stays right here, and you touch her if you dare, any of
+you! Anything more to say?”
+
+But the Honorable's dignity had returned. Possibly he thought he
+had said too much already. A moment later the door banged behind the
+discomforted boarding party.
+
+Captain Cy pulled his beard and laughed.
+
+“Well, we repelled 'em, didn't we?” he observed. “But, as friend
+Heman says, the beginnin's only begun. I wish he hadn't seen you here,
+teacher.”
+
+Miss Dawes looked up from the task of stroking poor Bos'n's hair.
+
+“I don't,” she said, “I'm glad of it.” Then she added, laughing
+nervously: “Cap'n Whittaker, how could you be so cool? It was like a
+play. I declare, you were just splendid!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A CLEW
+
+
+Josiah Dimick has a unique faculty of grasping a situation and summing
+it up in an out-of-the-ordinary way.
+
+“I think,” observed Josiah to the excited group at Simmons's, “that this
+town owes Cy Whittaker a vote of thanks.”
+
+“Thanks!” gasped Alpheus Smalley, so shocked and horrified that he put
+the one-pound weight on the scales instead of the half pound. “THANKS!
+After what we've found out? Well, I must say!”
+
+“Ya-as,” drawled Captain Josiah, “thanks was what I said. If it wan't
+for him this gang and the sewin' circle wouldn't have nothin' to talk
+about but their neighbors. Our reputations would be as full of holes as
+a skimmer by this time. Now all hands are so busy jumpin' on Whit, that
+the rest of us can feel fairly safe. Ain't that so, Gabe?”
+
+Mr. Lumley, who had stopped in for a half pound of tea, grinned feebly,
+but said nothing. If he noticed the clerk's mistake in weights he didn't
+mention it, but took his package and hurried out. After his departure
+Mr. Smalley himself discovered the error and charged the Lumley account
+with “1 1/4 lbs. Mixed Green and Black.” Meanwhile the assemblage
+about the stove had put Captain Cy on the anvil and was hammering him
+vigorously.
+
+Bayport was boiling over with rumor and surmise. Heman had appealed to
+the courts asking that Captain Cy's appointment as Bos'n's guardian be
+rescinded. Cy had hired Lawyer Peabody, of Ostable, to look out for his
+interests. Mr. Atkins and the captain had all but come to blows over
+the child. Thomas, the poor father, had broken down and wept, and had
+threatened to commit suicide. Mrs. Salters had refused to speak to
+Captain Cy when she met the latter after meeting on Sunday. The land in
+Orham had been sold and the captain was using the money. Phoebe Dawes
+had threatened to resign if Bos'n came to school any longer. No, she had
+threatened to resign if she didn't come to school. She hadn't threatened
+to resign at all, but wanted higher wages because of the effect the
+scandal might have on her reputation as a teacher. These were a few of
+the reports, contradicted and added to from day to day.
+
+To quote Josiah Dimick again: “Sortin' out the truth from the lies is
+like tryin' to find a quart of sardines in a schooner load of herrin'.
+And they dump in more herrin' every half hour.”
+
+Angeline Phinney was having the time of her life. The perfect boarding
+house hummed like a fly trap. Keturah and Mrs. Tripp had deserted to
+the enemy, and the minority, meaning Asaph and Bailey, had little
+opportunity to defend their friend's cause, even if they had dared.
+Heman Atkins, his Christian charity and high-mindedness, his devotion to
+duty, regardless of political consequences, and the magnificent speech
+at town meeting were lauded and exalted. The Bayport Breeze contained
+a full account of the meeting, and it was read aloud by Keturah, amidst
+hymns of praise from the elect.
+
+“'Whom the Lord hath joined,'” read Mrs. Bangs, “'let no man put
+asunder.' Ain't that splendid? Ain't that FINE? The paper says: 'When
+Congressman Atkins delivered this noble sentiment a hush fell upon the
+excited throng.' I should think 'twould. I remember when I was married
+the minister said pretty nigh the same thing, and I COULDN'T speak. I
+couldn't have opened my mouth to save me. Don't you remember I couldn't,
+Bailey?”
+
+Mr. Bangs nodded gloomily. It is possible that he wished the effect of
+the minister's declaration might have been more lasting. Asaph stirred
+in his chair.
+
+“I don't care,” he said. “This puttin' asunder business is all right,
+but there's always two sides to everything. I see this Thomas critter
+when he fust come, and he didn't look like no saint then--nor smell like
+one, neither, unless 'twas a specimen pickled in alcohol.”
+
+Here was irreverence almost atheistic. Keturah's face showed her shocked
+disapproval. Matilda Tripp voiced the general sentiment.
+
+“Humph!” she sniffed. “Well, all I can say is that I've met Mr. Thomas
+two or three times, and _I_ didn't notice anything but politeness and
+good manners. Maybe my nose ain't so fine for smellin' liquor as some
+folks's--p'raps it ain't had the experience--but all _I_ saw was a poor
+lame man with a black eye. I pitied him, and I don't care who hears me
+say it.”
+
+“Yes,” concurred Miss Phinney, “and if he was a drinkin' man, do you
+suppose Mr. Atkins would have anything to do with him? Cyrus Whittaker
+made a whole lot of talk about his insultin' some woman or other, but
+nobody knows who the woman was. 'Bout time for her to speak up, I should
+think. Teacher,” turning to Miss Dawes, “you was at the Whittaker place
+when Mr. Atkins and Emily's father come for her, I understand. I wish
+I'd have been there. It must have been wuth seein'.”
+
+“It was,” replied Miss Dawes. She had kept silent throughout the various
+discussions of the week following the town meeting, but now, thus
+appealed to, she answered promptly.
+
+Angeline's news created a sensation. The schoolmistress immediately
+became the center of interest.
+
+“Is that so? Was you there, teacher? Well, I declare!” The questions and
+exclamations flew round the table.
+
+“Tell us, teacher,” pleaded Keturah. “Wasn't Heman grand? I should so
+like to have heard him. Didn't Cap'n Whittaker look ashamed of himself?”
+
+“No, he did not. If anyone looked ashamed it was Mr. Atkins and his
+friends. Perhaps I ought to tell you that my sympathies are entirely
+with Captain Whittaker in this affair. To give that little girl up to a
+drunken scoundrel like her father would, in my opinion, be a crime.”
+
+The boarders and the landlady gasped. Asaph grinned and nudged Bailey
+under the table. Keturah was the first to recover.
+
+“Well!” she exclaimed. “Everybody's got a right to their opinion, of
+course. But I can't see the crime, myself. And as for the drunkenness,
+I'd like to know who's seen Mr. Thomas drunk. Cyrus Whittaker SAYS he
+has, but--”
+
+She waved her hand scornfully. Phoebe rose from her chair.
+
+“I have seen him in that condition,” she said. “In fact, I am the person
+he insulted. I saw Captain Whittaker knock him down, and I honored
+the captain for it. I only wished I were a man and could have done it
+myself.”
+
+She left the room, and, a few moments later, the house. Mr. Tidditt
+chuckled aloud. Even Bailey dared to look pleased.
+
+“There!” sneered the widow Tripp. “Ain't that--Perhaps you remember that
+Cap'n Whittaker got her the teacher's place?”
+
+“Yes,” put in Miss Phinney, “and nobody knows WHY he got it for her.
+That is, nobody has known up to now. Maybe we can begin to guess a
+little after this.”
+
+“She was at his house, was she?” observed Keturah. “Humph! I wonder why?
+Seems to me if _I_ was a young--that is, a single woman like her, I'd
+be kind of careful about callin' on bachelors. Humph! it looks funny to
+me.”
+
+Asaph rose and pushed back his chair.
+
+“I cal'late she called to see Emily,” he said sharply. “The child was
+her scholar, and I presume likely, knowin' the kind of father that has
+turned up for the poor young one, she felt sorry for her. Of course,
+nobody's hintin' anything against Phoebe Dawes's character. If you want
+a certificate of that, you've only got to go to Wellmouth. Folks over
+there are pretty keen on that subject. I guess the town would go to
+law about it rather'n hear a word against her. Libel suits are kind of
+uncomf'table things for them that ain't sure of their facts. I'D hate to
+get mixed up in one, myself. Bailey, I'm going up street. Come on, when
+you can, won't you?”
+
+As if frightened at his own display of spirit, he hurried out. There was
+silence for a time; then Miss Phinney spoke concerning the weather.
+
+Up at the Cy Whittaker place the days were full ones. There, also, legal
+questions were discussed, with Georgianna, the Board of Strategy,
+Josiah Dimick occasionally, and, more infrequently still, Miss Dawes, as
+participants with Captain Cy in the discussions. Rumors were true in
+so far as they related to Mr. Atkins's appeal to the courts, and the
+captain's retaining Lawyer Peabody, of Ostable. Mr. Peabody's opinion of
+the case was not encouraging.
+
+“You see, captain,” he said, when his client visited him at his office,
+“the odds are very much against us. The court appointed you as guardian
+with the understanding that this man Thomas was dead. Now he is alive
+and claims his child. More than that, he has the most influential
+politician in this county back of him. We wouldn't stand a fighting
+chance except for one thing--Thomas himself. He left his wife and the
+baby; deserted them, so she said; went to get work, HE says. We can
+prove he was a drunken blackguard BEFORE he went, and that he has been
+drunk since he came back. But THEY'LL say--Atkins and his lawyer--that
+the man was desperate and despairing because of your refusal to give him
+his child. They'll hold him up as a repentant sinner, anxious to reform,
+and needing the little girl's influence to help keep him straight.
+That's their game, and they'll play it, be sure of that, It sounds
+reasonable enough, too, for sinners have repented before now. And the
+long-lost father coming back to his child is the one sure thing to win
+applause from the gallery, you know that.”
+
+Captain Cy nodded.
+
+“Yup,” he said, “I know it. The other night, when Miss Ph-- when a friend
+of mine was at the house, she said this business was like a play. I
+didn't say so to her, but all the same I realize it ain't like a play at
+all. In a play dad comes home, havin' been snaked bodily out of the
+jaws of the tomb by his coat collar, and the young one sings out 'Papa!
+Papa!' and he sobs, 'Me child! Me child!' and it's all lovely, and
+you put on your hat feelin' that the old man is goin' to be rich and
+righteous for the rest of his days. But here it's different; dad's a
+rascal, and anybody who's seen anything of the world knows he's bound to
+stay so; and as for the poor little girl, why--why--”
+
+He stopped, rose, and, striding over to the window, stood looking out.
+After an interval, during which the good-natured attorney read a dull
+business letter through for the second time, he spoke again.
+
+“I hope you understand, Peabody,” he said. “It ain't just selfishness
+that makes me steer the course I'm runnin'. Course, Bos'n's got to be
+the world and all to me, and if she's taken away I don't know's I care a
+tinker's darn what happens afterwards. But, all the same, if her dad was
+a real man, sorry for what he's done and tryin' to make up for it--why,
+then, I cal'late I'm decent enough to take off my hat, hand her over,
+and say: 'God bless you and good luck.' But to think of him carryin' her
+off the Lord knows where, to neglect her and cruelize her, and to let
+her grow up among fellers like him, I--I--by the big dipper, I can't do
+it! That's all; I can't!”
+
+“How does she feel about it, herself?” asked Peabody.
+
+“Her? Bos'n? Why, that's the hardest of all. Some of the children at
+school pester her about her father. I don't know's you can blame 'em;
+young ones are made that way, I guess--but she comes home to me cryin',
+and it's 'O Uncle Cy, he AIN'T my truly father, is he?' and 'You won't
+let him take me away from you, will you?' till it seems as if I should
+fly out of the window. The poor little thing! And that puffed-up humbug
+Atkins blowin' about his Christianity and all! D--n such Christianity as
+that, I say! I've seen heathen Injuns, who never heard of Christ,
+with more of His spirit inside 'em. There! I've shocked you, I guess.
+Sometimes I think this place is too narrer and cramped for me. I've been
+around, you know, and my New England bringin' up has wore thin in spots.
+Seem's if I must get somewheres and spread out, or I'll bust.”
+
+He threw himself into a chair. The lawyer clapped him on the shoulder.
+
+“There, there, captain,” he said. “Don't 'bust' yet awhile. Don't give
+up the ship. If we lose in one court, we can appeal to another, and so
+on up the line. And meantime we'll do a little investigating of
+friend Thomas's career since he left Concord. I've written to a legal
+acquaintance of mine in Butte, giving him the facts as we know them, and
+a description of Thomas. He will try to find out what the fellow did in
+his years out West. It's our best chance, as I told you. Keep your pluck
+up and wait and see.”
+
+The captain repeated this conversation to the Board of Strategy when he
+returned to Bayport. Miss Dawes had walked home from school with Bos'n,
+and had stopped at the house to hear the report. She listened, but it
+was evident that something else was on her mind.
+
+“Captain Whittaker,” she asked, “has it ever struck you as queer that
+Mr. Atkins should take such an interest in this matter? He is giving
+time and counsel and money to help this man Thomas, who is a perfect
+stranger to him. Why does he do it?”
+
+Captain Cy smiled.
+
+“Why?” he repeated. “Why, to down me, of course. I was gettin' too
+everlastin' prominent in politics to suit him. I'd got you in as
+teacher, and I had 'Lonzo Snow as good as licked for school committee.
+Goodness knows what I might have run for next, 'cordin' to Heman's
+reasonin', and I simply had to be smashed. It worked all right. I'm so
+unhealthy now in the sight of most folks in this town, that I cal'late
+they go home and sulphur-smoke their clothes after they meet me, so's
+not to catch my wickedness.”
+
+But the teacher shook her head.
+
+“That doesn't seem reason enough to me,” she declared. “Just see what
+Mr. Atkins has done. He never openly advocated anything in town meeting
+before; you said so yourself. Even when he must have realized that you
+had the votes for committeeman he kept still. He might have taken many
+of them from you by simply coming out and declaring for Mr. Snow; but he
+didn't. And then, all at once, he takes this astonishing stand. Captain
+Whittaker, Mr. Tidditt says that, the night of Emily's birthday party,
+you and he told who she was, by accident, and that Mr. Atkins seemed
+very much surprised and upset. Is that so?”
+
+Captain Cy laughed.
+
+“His lemonade was upset; that's all I noticed special. Oh! yes, and he
+lost his hat off, goin' home. But what of it? What are you drivin' at?”
+
+“I was wondering if--if it could be that, for some reason, Mr. Atkins
+had a spite against Emily or her people. Or if he had any reason to fear
+her.”
+
+“Fear? Fear Bos'n? Oh, my, that's funny! You've been readin' novels, I'm
+'fraid, teacher, 'though I didn't suspect it of you.”
+
+He laughed heartily. Miss Dawes smiled, too, but she still persisted.
+
+“Well,” she said, “I don't know. Perhaps it is because I'm a woman, and
+politics don't mean as much to me as to you men, but to me political
+reasons don't seem strong enough to account for such actions as those
+of Mr. Atkins. Emily's mother was a Thayer, wasn't she? and the Thayers
+once lived in Orham. I wish we could find out more about them while they
+lived there.”
+
+Asaph Tidditt pulled his beard thoughtfully.
+
+“Well,” he observed, “maybe we can, if we want to, though I don't think
+what we find out 'll amount to nothin'. I was kind of cal'latin' to go
+to Orham next week on a little visit. Seth Wingate over there--Barzilla
+Wingate's cousin, Whit--is a sort of relation of mine, and we visit back
+and forth every nine or ten year or so. The ten year's most up, and he's
+been pesterin' me to come over. Seth's been Orham town clerk about as
+long as I've been the Bayport one, and he's lived there all his life.
+What he don't know about Orham folks ain't wuth knowin'. If you say so,
+I'll pump him about the Thayers and the Richards. 'Twon't do no harm,
+and the old fool likes to talk, anyhow. I don't know's I ought to speak
+that way about my relations,” he added doubtfully, “but Seth IS sort of
+stubborn and unlikely at odd times. We don't always agree as to which is
+the best town to live in, you understand.”
+
+So it was settled that Mr. Wingate should be subjected to the “pumping”
+ process when Asaph visited him. He departed for this visit the following
+week, and remained away for ten days. Meanwhile several things happened
+in Bayport.
+
+One of these things was the farewell of the Honorable Heman Atkins.
+Congress was to open at Washington, and the Honorable heeded the call
+of duty. Alicia and the housekeeper went with him, and the big house was
+closed for the winter. At the gate between the stone urns, and backed
+by the iron dogs, the great man bade a group of admiring constituents
+good-by. He thanked them for their trust in him, and promised that it
+should not be betrayed.
+
+“I leave you, my fellow townsmen, er--ladies and friends,” he said,
+“with regret, tempered by pride--a not inexcusable pride, I believe. In
+the trying experience which my self-respect and sympathy has so recently
+forced upon me, you have stood firm and cheered me on. The task I have
+undertaken, the task of restoring to a worthy man his own, shall be
+carried on to the bitterest extremity. I have put my hand to the plow,
+and it shall not be withdrawn. And, furthermore, I go to my work at
+Washington determined to secure for my native town the appropriation
+which it so sorely needs. I shall secure it if I can, even though--” and
+the sarcasm was hugely enjoyed by his listeners--“I am, as I seem likely
+to be, deprived of the help of the 'committee,' self-appointed at our
+recent town meeting. If I fail--and I do not conceal the fact that I
+may fail--I am certain you will not blame me. Now I should like to shake
+each one of you by the hand.”
+
+The hands were shaken, and the train bore the Atkins delegation away.
+And, on the day following, Mr. Thomas, the prodigal father, also left
+town. A position in Boston had been offered him, he said, and he felt
+that he must accept it. He would come back some of these days, with the
+warrant from the court, and get his little girl.
+
+“Position offered him! Um--ya-as!” quoth Dimick the cynical, in
+conversation with Captain Cy. “Inspector of sidewalks, I shouldn't
+wonder. Well, please don't ask me if I think Heman sent him to Boston
+so's to have him out of the way, and 'cause he'd feel consider'ble safer
+than if he was loose down here. Don't ask me that, for, with my strict
+scruples against the truth I might say, No. As it is, I say nothin'--and
+wink my port eye.”
+
+The ten-day visit ended, Mr. Tidditt returned to Bayport. On the
+afternoon of his return he and Bailey called at the Whittaker place,
+and there they were joined by Miss Dawes, who had been summoned to the
+conclave by a note intrusted to Bos'n.
+
+“Now, Ase,” ordered Captain Cy, as the quartet gathered in the sitting
+room, “here we are, hangin' on your words, as the feller said. Don't
+keep us strung up too long. What did you find out?”
+
+The town clerk cleared his throat. When he spoke, there was a trace of
+disappointment in his tone. To have been able to electrify his audience
+with the news of some startling discovery would have been pure joy for
+Asaph.
+
+“Well,” he began, “I don't know's I found out anything much. Yet I did
+find out somethin', too; but it don't really amount to nothin'. I hoped
+'twould be somethin' more'n 'twas, but when nothin' come of it except
+the little somethin' it begun with, I--”
+
+“For the land sakes!” snapped Bailey Bangs, who was a trifle envious of
+his friend's position in the center of the stage, “stop them 'nothin's'
+and 'somethin's,' won't you? You keep whirlin' 'em round and over and
+over till my head's FULL of 'nothin',' and--”
+
+“That's what it's full of most of the time,” interrupted Asaph tartly.
+Captain Cy hastened to act as peacemaker.
+
+“Never mind, Bailey,” he said; “you let Ase alone. Tell us what you did
+find out, Ase, and cut out the trimmin's.”
+
+“Well,” continued Mr. Tidditt, with a glare at Bangs, “I asked Seth
+about the Thayers and the Richards folks the very fust night I struck
+Orham. He remembered 'em, of course; he can remember Adam, if you let
+him tell it. He told me a whole mess about old man Thayer and old man
+Richards and their granddads and grandmarms, and what houses they lived
+in, and how many hens they kept, and what their dog's name was, and how
+they come to name him that, and enough more to fill a hogshead. 'Twas
+ten o'clock afore he got out of Genesis, and down so fur as John and
+Emily. He remembered their bein' married, and their baby--Mary Thayer,
+Bos'n's ma--bein' born.
+
+“Folks used to call John Thayer a smart young feller, so Seth said. They
+used to cal'late that he'd rise high in the seafarin' and ship-ownin'
+line. Maybe he would, only he died somewheres in Californy 'long in '54
+or thereabouts. 'Twas the time of the gold craziness out there, and he
+left his ship and went gold huntin'. And the next thing they knew he was
+dead and buried.”
+
+“When was that?” inquired the schoolmistress.
+
+“In '54, I tell you. So Seth says.”
+
+“What ship was he on?” asked Bailey.
+
+“Wan't on any ship. Why don't you listen, instead of settin' there
+moonin'? He was gold diggin', I tell you.”
+
+“He'd BEEN on a ship, hadn't he? What was the name of her?”
+
+“I didn't ask. What diff'rence does that make?”
+
+“Wasn't Mr. Atkins at sea in those days?” put in the teacher. The
+captain answered her.
+
+“Yes, he was,” he said. “That is, I think he was. He was away from here
+when I skipped out, and he didn't get back till '61 or thereabouts.”
+
+“Well, anyhow,” went on Asaph, “that's all I could find out. Seth and me
+went rummagin' through town records from way back to glory, him gassin'
+away and stringin' along about this old settler and that, till I 'most
+wished he'd choke himself with the dust he was raisin'. We found John's
+grandad's will, and Emily's dad's will, and John's own will, and that's
+all. John left everything he had and all he might become possessed of
+to his wife and baby and their heirs forever. He died poorer'n poverty.
+What's the use of a will when you ain't got nothin' to leave?”
+
+“Why!” exclaimed Captain Cy. “The answer to that's easy. John was goin'
+to sea, and, more'n likely, intended to have a shy at the diggin's afore
+he got back. So, if he did make any money, he wanted his wife and baby
+to have it.”
+
+“Well, what they got wan't wuth havin'. Emily had to scrimp along and
+do dressmakin' till she died. She done fairly well at that, though,
+and saved somethin' and passed it over to Mary. And Mary married Henry
+Thomas, after she went with the Howes tribe to Concord, and he got rid
+of it for her in double quick time--all but the Orham land.”
+
+“So that was all you could find out, hey, Ase?” asked the captain.
+“Well, it's at least as much as I expected. You see, teacher, these
+story-book notions don't work out when it comes to real life.”
+
+Miss Dawes was plainly disappointed.
+
+“I wish we knew more,” she said. “Who was on this ship with Mr. Thayer?
+And who sent the news of his death home?”
+
+“Oh, I can tell you that,” said Asaph. “'Twas some one-hoss doctor out
+there, gold minin' himself, he was. John died of a quick fever. Got cold
+and went off in no time. Seth remembered that much, though he couldn't
+remember the doctor's name. He said, if I wanted to learn more about
+the Thayers, I might go see--Humph, well, never mind that. 'Twas just
+foolishness, anyhow.”
+
+But Phoebe persisted.
+
+“To see whom?” she asked. “Some one you knew? A friend of yours?”
+
+Asaph turned red.
+
+“Friend of mine!” he snarled. “No, SIR! she ain't no friend of mine, I'm
+thankful to say. More a friend of Bailey's, here, if she's anybody's.
+One of his pets, she was, for a spell. A patient of his, you might say;
+anyhow, he prescribed for her. 'Twas that deef idiot, Debby Beasley, Cy;
+that's who 'twas. Her name was Briggs afore she married Beasley, and
+she was hired help for Emily Thayer, when Mary was born, and until John
+died.”
+
+Captain Cy burst into a roar of laughter. Bailey sprang out of his
+chair.
+
+“De--Debby Beasley!” he stammered. “Debby Beasley!”
+
+“She was that deef housekeeper Bailey hired for me, teacher,” explained
+the captain. “I've told you about her. Ho! ho! so that's the end of
+the mystery huntin'. We go gunnin' for Heman Atkins, and we bring down
+Debby! Well, Ase, goin' to see the old lady?”
+
+Mr. Tidditt's retort was emphatic.
+
+“Goin' to SEE her?” he repeated. “I guess not! Godfrey scissors! I told
+Seth, says I, 'I've had all the Debby Beasley _I_ want, and I cal'late
+Cy Whittaker feels the same way.' Go to see her! I wouldn't go to see
+her if she was up in Paradise a-hollerin' for me.”
+
+“Nobody up there's goin' to holler for YOU, Ase Tidditt,” remarked
+Bailey, with sarcasm; “so don't let that worry you none.”
+
+“Are YOU going to see her, Captain Whittaker?” asked Phoebe.
+
+The captain shook his head.
+
+“Why, no, I guess not,” he said. “I don't take much stock in what she'd
+be likely to know; besides, I'm a good deal like Ase--I've had about all
+the Debby Beasley I want.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+DEBBY BEASLEY TO THE RESCUE
+
+
+“Mrs. Bangs,” said the schoolmistress, as if it was the most casual
+thing in the world, “I want to borrow your husband to-morrow.”
+
+It was Friday evening, and supper at the perfect boarding house had
+advanced as far as the stewed prunes and fruit-cake stage. Keturah,
+who was carefully dealing out the prunes, exactly four to each saucer,
+stopped short, spoon in air, and gazed at Miss Dawes.
+
+“You--you want to WHAT?” she asked.
+
+“I want to borrow your husband. I want him all day, too, because I'm
+thinking of driving over to Trumet, and I need a coachman. You'll go,
+won't you, Mr. Bangs?”
+
+Bailey, who had been considering the advisability of asking for a second
+cup of tea, brightened up and looked pleased.
+
+“Why, yes,” he answered, “I'll go. I can go just as well as not. Fact
+is, I'd like to. Ain't been to Trumet I don't know when.”
+
+Miss Phinney and the widow Tripp looked at each other. Then they both
+looked at Keturah. That lady's mouth closed tightly, and she resumed her
+prune distribution.
+
+“I'm sorry,” she said crisply, “but I'm 'fraid he can't go. It's
+Saturday, and I'll need him round the house. Do you care for cake
+to-night, Elviry? I'm 'fraid it's pretty dry; I ain't had time to do
+much bakin' this week.”
+
+“Of course,” continued the smiling Phoebe, “I shouldn't think of asking
+him to go for nothing. I didn't mean borrow him in just that way. I
+was thinking of hiring your horse and buggy, and, as I'm not used to
+driving, I thought perhaps I might engage Mr. Bangs to drive for me.
+I expected to pay for the privilege. But, as you need him, I suppose I
+must get my rig and driver somewhere else. I'm so sorry.”
+
+The landlady's expression changed. This was the dull season, and
+opportunities to “let” the family steed and buggy--“horse and team,” we
+call it in Bayport--were few.
+
+“Well,” she observed, “I don't want to be unlikely and disobligin'.
+Far's he's concerned, he'd rather be traipsin' round the country than
+stay to home, any day; though it's been so long sence he took ME to ride
+that I don't know's I'd know how to act.”
+
+“Why, Ketury!” protested her husband. “How you talk! Didn't I drive you
+down to the graveyard only last Sunday--or the Sunday afore?”
+
+“Graveyard! Yes, I notice our rides always fetch up at the graveyard.
+You're always willin' to take me THERE. Seems sometimes as if you
+enjoyed doin' it.”
+
+“Now, Keturah! you know yourself that 'twas you proposed goin' there.
+You said you wanted to look at our lot, 'cause you was afraid 'twan't
+big enough, and you didn't know but we'd ought to add on another piece.
+You said that it kept you awake nights worryin' for fear when I passed
+away you wouldn't have room in that lot for me. Land sakes! don't I
+remember? Didn't you give me the blue creeps talkin' about it?”
+
+Mrs. Bangs ignored this outburst. Turning to the school teacher, she
+said with a sigh:
+
+“Well, I guess he can go. I'll get along somehow. I hope he'll be
+careful of the buggy; we had it painted only last January.”
+
+Mrs. Tripp ventured a hinted question concerning the teacher's errand
+at Trumet. The reply being noncommittal, the widow cheerfully prophesied
+that she guessed 'twas going to rain or snow next day. “It's about time
+for the line storm,” she added.
+
+But it did not storm, although a brisk, cold gale was blowing when,
+after breakfast next morning, the “horse and team,” with Bailey in his
+Sunday suit and overcoat, and Miss Dawes on the buggy seat beside him,
+turned out of the boarding-house yard and started on the twelve-mile
+journey to Trumet.
+
+It was a bleak ride. Denboro, the village adjoining Bayport on the bay
+side, is a pretty place, with old elms and silverleafs shading the main
+street in summer, and with substantial houses set each in its trim yard.
+But beyond Denboro the Trumet road winds out over rolling, bare hills,
+with cranberry bogs, now flooded and skimmed with ice, in the hollows
+between them, clumps of bayberry and beach-plum bushes scattered over
+their rounded slopes, and white scars in their sides showing where the
+cranberry growers have cut away the thin layer of coarse grass and moss
+to reach the sand beneath, sand which they use in preparing their bogs
+for the new vines.
+
+And the wind! There is always a breeze along the Trumet road, even
+in summer--when the mosquitoes lie in wait to leeward like buccaneers
+until, sighting the luckless wayfarer in the offing, they drive down
+before the wind in clouds, literally to eat him alive. They are skilled
+navigators, those Trumet road mosquitoes, and they know the advantage
+of snug harbors under hat brims and behind spreading ears. And each
+individual smashed by a frantic palm leaves a thousand blood relatives
+to attend his funeral and exact revenge after the Corsican fashion.
+
+Now, in December, there were, of course, no mosquitoes, but the wind
+tore across those bare hilltops in gusts that rocked the buggy on its
+springs. The bayberry bushes huddled and crouched before it. The sky was
+covered with tumbling, flying clouds, which changed shape continually,
+and ripped into long, fleecy ravelings, that broke loose and pelted on
+until merged into the next billowy mass. The bay was gray and white, and
+in the spots where an occasional sunbeam broke through and struck it,
+flashed like a turned knife blade.
+
+Bailey drove with one hand and held his hat on his head with the other.
+The road had been deeply rutted during the November rains, and now the
+ruts were frozen. The buggy wheels twisted and scraped as they turned in
+the furrows.
+
+“What's the matter?” asked the schoolmistress, shouting so as to be
+heard above the flapping of the buggy curtains. “Why do you watch that
+wheel?”
+
+“'Fraid of the axle,” whooped Mr. Bangs in reply. “Nut's kind of loose,
+for one thing, and the way the wheel wobbles I'm scart she'll come off.
+Call this a road!” he snorted indignantly. “More like a plowed field a
+consider'ble sight. Jerushy, how she blows! No wonder they raise so many
+deef and dumb folks in Trumet. I'd talk sign language myself if I lived
+here. What's the use of wastin' strength pumpin' up words when they're
+blowed back down your throat fast enough to choke you? Git dap, Henry!
+Don't you see the meetin' house steeple? We're most there, thank the
+goodness.”
+
+In Trumet Center, which is not much of a center, Miss Dawes alighted
+from the buggy and entered a building bearing a sign with the words
+“Metropolitan Variety Store, Joshua Atwood, Prop'r, Groceries, Coal, Dry
+Goods, Insurance, Boots and Shoes, Garden Seeds, etc.” A smaller sign
+beneath this was lettered “Justice of the Peace,” and one below that
+read “Post Office.”
+
+She emerged a moment later, followed by an elderly person in a red
+cardigan jacket and overalls.
+
+“Take the fust turnin' to the left, marm,” he said pointing. “It's
+pretty nigh to East Trumet townhall. Fust house this side of the
+blacksmith shop. About two mile, I'd say. Windy day for drivin', ain't
+it? That horse of yours belongs in Bayport, I cal'late. Looks to me
+like--Hello, Bailey!”
+
+“Hello, Josh!” grunted Mr. Bangs, adding an explanatory aside to
+the effect that he knew Josh Atwood, the latter having once lived in
+Bayport.
+
+“But say,” he asked as they moved on once more, “have we got to go to
+EAST Trumet? Jerushy! that's the place where the wind COMES from. They
+raise it over there; anyhow, they don't raise much else. Whose house you
+goin' to?”
+
+He had asked the same question at least ten times since leaving home,
+and each time Miss Dawes had evaded it. She did so now, saying that she
+was sure she should know the house when they got to it.
+
+The two miles to East Trumet were worse than the twelve which they had
+come. The wind fairly shrieked here, for the road paralleled the edge of
+high sand bluffs close by the shore, and the ruts and “thank-you-marms”
+ were trying to the temper. Bailey's was completely wrecked.
+
+“Teacher,” he snapped as they reached the crest of a long hill, and
+a quick grab at his hat alone prevented its starting on a balloon
+ascension, “get out a spell, will you? I've got to swear or bust, and
+'long's you're aboard I can't swear. What you standin' still for,
+you?” he bellowed at poor Henry, the horse, who had stopped to rest. “I
+cal'late the critter thinks that last cyclone must have blowed me sky
+high, and he's waitin' to see where I light. Git dap!”
+
+“I guess I shall get out very soon now,” panted Phoebe. “There's the
+blacksmith shop over there near the next hill, and this house in the
+hollow must be the one I'm looking for.”
+
+They pulled up beside the house in the hollow. A little,
+story-and-a-half house it was, and, judging by the neglected appearance
+of the weeds and bushes in the yard, it had been unoccupied for some
+time. However, the blinds were now open, and a few fowls about the back
+door seemed to promise that some one was living there. The wooden letter
+box by the gate had a name stenciled upon it. Miss Dawes sprang from the
+buggy and looked at the box.
+
+“Yes,” she said. “This is the place. Will you come in, Mr. Bangs? You
+can put your horse in that barn, I'm sure, if you want to.”
+
+But Bailey declined to come in. He declared he was going on to the
+blacksmith's shop to have that wheel fixed. He would not feel safe to
+start for home with it as it was. He drove off, and Miss Dawes, knowing
+from lifelong experience that front doors are merely for show, passed
+around the main body of the house and rapped on the door in the ell.
+The rap was not answered, though she could hear some one moving about
+within, and a shrill voice singing “The Sweet By and By.” So she rapped
+again and again, but still no one came to the door. At last she ventured
+to open it.
+
+A thin woman, with her head tied up in a colored cotton handkerchief,
+was in the room, vigorously wielding a broom. She was singing in a high
+cracked voice. The opening of the door let in a gust of cold wind which
+struck the singer in the back of the neck, and caused her to turn around
+hastily.
+
+“Hey?” she exclaimed. “Land sakes! you scare a body to death! Shut that
+door quick! I ain't hankering for influenzy. Who are you? What do you
+want? Why didn't you knock? Where's my specs?”
+
+She took a pair of spectacles from the mantel shelf, rubbed them
+with her apron, and set them on the bridge of her thin nose. Then she
+inspected the schoolmistress from head to foot.
+
+“I beg pardon for coming in,” shouted Phoebe. “I knocked, but you didn't
+hear. You are Mrs. Beasley, aren't you?”
+
+“I don't want none,” replied Debby, with emphasis. “So there's no use
+your wastin' your breath.”
+
+“Don't want--” repeated the astonished teacher. “Don't want what?”
+
+“Hey? I say I don't want none.”
+
+“Don't want WHAT?”
+
+“Whatever 'tis you're peddlin'. Books or soap or tea, or whatever 'tis.
+I don't want nothin'.”
+
+After some strenuous minutes, the visitor managed to make it clear to
+Mrs. Beasley's mind that she was not a peddler. She tried to add a word
+of further explanation, but it was effort wasted.
+
+“'Tain't no use,” snapped Debby, “I can't hear you, you speak so faint.
+Wait till I get my horn; it's in the settin' room.”
+
+Phoebe's wonder as to what the “horn” might be was relieved by the
+widow's appearance, a moment later, with the biggest ear trumpet her
+caller had ever seen.
+
+“There, now!” she said, adjusting the instrument and thrusting the
+bell-shaped end under the teacher's nose. “Talk into that. If you ain't
+a peddler, what be you--sewin' machine agent?”
+
+Phoebe explained that she had come some distance on purpose to see Mrs.
+Beasley. She was interested in the Thayers, who used to live in Orham,
+particularly in Mr. John Thayer, who died in 1854. She had been told
+that Debby formerly lived with the Thayers, and could, no doubt,
+remember a great deal about them. Would she mind answering a few
+questions, and so on?
+
+Mrs. Beasley, her hearing now within forty-five degrees of the normal,
+grew interested. She ushered her visitor into the adjoining room, and
+proffered her a chair. That sitting room was a wonder of its kind, even
+to the teacher's accustomed eyes. A gilt-framed crayon enlargement of
+the late Mr. Beasley hung in the center of the broadest wall space, and
+was not the ugliest thing in the apartment. Having said this, further
+description is unnecessary--particularly to those who remember Mr.
+Beasley's personal appearance.
+
+“What you so interested in the Thayers for?” inquired Debby. “One of the
+heirs, be you? They didn't leave nothin'.”
+
+No, the schoolmistress was not an heir. Was not even a relative of the
+family. But she was--was interested, just the same. A friend of hers was
+a relative, and--
+
+“What is your friend?” inquired the inquisitor. “A man?”
+
+There was no reason why Miss Dawes should have changed color, but,
+according to Debby's subsequent testimony, she did; she blushed, so the
+widow declares.
+
+“No,” she protested. “Oh, no! it's a--she's a child, that's all--a
+little girl. But--”
+
+“Maybe you're gettin' up one of them geographical trees,” suggested Mrs.
+Beasley. “I've seen 'em, fust settlers down in the trunk, and children
+and grandchildren spreadin' out in the branches. Is that it?”
+
+Here was an avenue of escape. Phoebe stretched the truth a trifle, and
+admitted that that, or something of the sort, was what she was engaged
+in. The explanation seemed to be satisfactory. Debby asked her
+visitor's name, and, misunderstanding it, addressed her as “Miss Dorcas”
+ thereafter. Then she proceeded to give her reminiscences of the Thayers,
+and it did not take long for the disappointed teacher to discover that,
+for all practical purposes, these reminiscences were valueless. Mrs.
+Beasley remembered many things, but nothing at all concerning John
+Thayer's life in the West, nor the name of the ship he sailed in, nor
+who his shipmates were.
+
+“He never wrote home but once or twice afore he died,” she said. “And
+when he did Emily, his wife, never told me what was in his letters. She
+always burnt 'em, I guess. I used to hunt around for 'em when she was
+out, but she burnt 'em to spite me, I cal'late. Her and me didn't get
+along any too well. She said I talked too much to other folks about what
+was none of their business. Now, anybody that knows me knows THAT ain't
+one of my failin's. I told her so; says I--”
+
+And so on for ten minutes. Then Phoebe ventured to repeat the words “out
+West,” and her companion went off on a new tack. She had just been West
+herself. She had been on a visit to her husband's niece, who lived in
+Arizona. In Blazeton, Arizona. “It's the nicest town ever you see,” she
+continued. “And the smartest, most up-to-date place. Talk about the West
+bein' oncivilized! My land! you ought to see that town! Electric
+lights, and telephones, and--and--I don't know what all! Why, Miss
+What's-your-name--Miss Dorcas, marm, you just ought to see the
+photygraphs I've got that was took out there. My niece, she took 'em
+with one of them little mites of cameras. You wouldn't believe such a
+little box of a thing could take such photygraphs. I'm goin' to get 'em
+and show 'em to you. No, sir! you ain't got to go, neither. Set right
+still and let me fetch them photygraphs. 'Twon't be a mite of trouble.
+I'd love to do it.”
+
+Protests were unavailing. The photographs, at least fifty of them, were
+produced, and the suffering caller was shown the Blazeton City Hall, and
+the Blazeton “Palace Hotel,” and the home of the Beasley niece, taken
+from the front, the rear, and both sides. With each specimen Debby
+delivered a descriptive lecture.
+
+“You see that house?” she asked. “Well, 'tain't much of a one to look
+at, but it's got the most interestin' story tagged on to it. I made Eva,
+that's my niece, take a picture of it just on that account. The woman
+that lives there's had the hardest time. Her fust name's Desire, and
+that kind of made me take an interest in her right off, 'cause I had an
+Aunt Desire once, and it's a name you don't hear very often. Afterwards
+I got to know her real well. She was a widder woman, like me, only she
+didn't have as much sense as I've got, and went and married a second
+time. 'Twas 'long in 1886 she done it. This man Higgins, he went to
+work for her on her place, and pretty soon he married her. They lived
+together, principally on her fust husband's insurance money, I cal'late,
+until a year or so ago. Then the insurance money give out, and Mr.
+Higgins he says: 'Old woman,' he says--I'D never let a husband of mine
+call me 'old woman,' but Desire didn't seem to mind--'Old woman,' he
+says, 'I'm goin' over to Phoenix'--that's another city in Arizona--'to
+look for a job.' And he went, and she ain't heard hide--I mean seen hide
+nor heard hair--What DOES ail me? She ain't seen nor heard of him since.
+And she advertised in the weekly paper, and I don't know what all. She
+thinks he was murdered, you know; that's what makes it so sort of creepy
+and interestin'. Everybody was awful kind to her, and we got to be real
+good friends. Why, I--”
+
+This was but the beginning. It was evident that Mrs. Beasley had
+thoroughly enjoyed herself in Blazeton, and that the sorrows of the
+bereaved Desire Higgins had been one of the principal sources of that
+enjoyment. The schoolmistress endeavored to turn the subject, but it was
+useless.
+
+“I fetched home a whole pile of them newspapers,” continued Debby.
+“They was awful interestin'; full of pictures of Blazeton buildin's
+and leadin' folks and all. And in some of the back numbers was the
+advertisement about Mr. Higgins. I do wish I could show 'em to you, but
+I lent 'em to Mrs. Atwood up to the Center. If 'twan't such a ways I'd
+go and fetch 'em. Mrs. Atwood's been awful nice to me. She took care of
+my trunks and things when I went West--yes, and afore that when I went
+to Bayport to keep house for that miser'ble Cap'n Whittaker. I ain't
+told you about that, but I will by and by. Them trunks had lots of
+things in 'em that I didn't want to lose nor have anybody see. My
+diaries--I've kept a diary since 1850--and--”
+
+“Diaries?” interrupted Phoebe, grasping at straws. “Did you keep a diary
+while you were at the Thayers?”
+
+“Yes. Now, why didn't I think of that afore? More'n likely there'd be
+somethin' in that to help you with that geographical tree. I used to put
+down everything that happened, and--Where you goin'?”
+
+Miss Dawes had risen and was peering out of the window.
+
+“I was looking to see if my driver was anywhere about,” she replied. “I
+thought perhaps he would drive over to Mrs. Atwood's and get the diary
+for you. But I don't see him.”
+
+Just then, from around the corner of the house, peeped an agitated face;
+an agitated forefinger beckoned. Debby stepped to the window beside her
+visitor, and the face and finger went out of sight as if pulled by a
+string.
+
+Miss Phoebe smiled.
+
+“I think I'll go out and look for him,” she said. “He must be near here.
+I'll be right back, Mrs. Beasley.”
+
+Without stopping to put on her jacket, she hurried through the dining
+room, out of the door, and around the corner. There she found Mr. Bangs
+in a highly nervous state.
+
+“Why didn't you tell me 'twas Debby Beasley you was comin' to see?” he
+demanded. “If you'd mentioned that deef image's name you'd never got ME
+to drive you, I tell you that!”
+
+“Yes,” answered the teacher sweetly. “I imagined that. That's why I
+didn't tell you, Mr. Bangs. Now I want you to do me a favor. Will you
+drive over to Trumet Center, and deliver a note and get a package for
+me? Then you can come back here, and I shall be ready to start for
+home.”
+
+“Drive! Drive nothin'! The blacksmith's out, and won't be back for
+another hour. His boy's there, but he's a big enough lunkhead to try
+bailin' out a dory with a fork, and that buggy axle is bent so it's
+simply got to be fixed. I'd no more go home to Ketury with that buggy as
+'tis than I'd--Oh! my land of love!”
+
+The ejaculation was almost a groan. There at the corner, ear trumpet
+adjusted, and spectacles glistening, stood Debby Beasley. Bailey
+appeared to wilt under her gaze as if the spectacles were twin suns.
+Miss Dawes looked as if she very much wanted to laugh. The widow stared
+in silence.
+
+“How--how d'ye do, Mrs. Beasley?” faltered Mr. Bangs, not forgetting to
+raise his voice. “I hope you're lookin' as well as you feel. I mean, I
+hope you're smart.”
+
+Mrs. Beasley nodded decisively.
+
+“Yes,” she answered. “I'm pretty toler'ble, thank you. What was the
+matter, Mr. Bangs? Why didn't you come in? Do you usually make your
+calls round the corner?”
+
+The gentleman addressed seemed unable to reply. The schoolmistress came
+to the rescue.
+
+“You mustn't blame Mr. Bangs, Mrs. Beasley,” she explained. “He
+wasn't responsible for what happened at Captain Whittaker's. He is
+the gentleman who drove me over here. I was going to send him to Mrs.
+Atwood's for the diary.”
+
+“Who said I was blamin' him?” queried the widow. “If 'twas that little
+Tidditt thing I might feel different. But, considerin' that I got this
+horn from Mr. Bangs, I'm willin' to let bygones be past. It helps my
+hearin' a lot. Them ear-fixin's was good while they lasted, but they got
+out of kilter quick. _I_ shan't bother Mr. Bangs. If he can square his
+own conscience, I'm satisfied.”
+
+Bailey's conscience was not troubling him greatly, and he seemed
+relieved. Phoebe told of the damaged buggy.
+
+“Humph!” grunted the widow. “The horse didn't get bent, too, did he?”
+
+Mr. Bangs indignantly declared that the horse was all right.
+
+“Um--hum. Well, then, I guess I can supply a carriage. My fust cousin
+Ezra that died used to be doctor here, and he give me his sulky when he
+got a new one. It's out in the barn. Go fetch your horse, and harness
+him in. I'll be ready time the harnessin's done.”
+
+“You?” gasped the teacher. “You don't need to go, Mrs. Beasley. I
+wouldn't think of giving you that trouble.”
+
+“No trouble at all. I wouldn't trust nobody else with them trunks. And
+besides, I always do enjoy ridin'. You could go, too, Miss Dorcas, but
+the sulky seat's too narrer for three. You can set in the settin' room
+till we get back. 'Twon't take us long. Don't say another word; I'm
+A-GOIN'.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+A REMARKABLE DRIVE AND WHAT FOLLOWED
+
+
+The number of reasons given by Mr. Bangs one after the other, to
+prove that it would be quite impossible for him to be Mrs. Beasley's
+charioteer was a credit to the resources of his invention. The
+blacksmith might be back any minute; it was dinner time, and he was
+hungry; Henry, the horse, was tired; it wasn't a nice day for riding,
+and he would come over some other time and take the widow out; he--But
+Debby had a conclusive answer for each protest.
+
+“You said yourself the blacksmith wouldn't be back for an hour,” she
+observed. “And you can leave word with the boy what he's to do when he
+does come. As for dinner, I'll be real glad to give you and Miss Dorcas
+a snack soon's we get back. I don't mind if it ain't a pleasant day; a
+little fresh air 'll do me good. I been shut up here house-cleanin' ever
+since I got back from out West. Now, hurry right along, and fetch your
+horse. I'll unlock the barn.”
+
+“But, Mrs. Beasley,” put in the schoolmistress, “why couldn't you give
+us a note to Mrs. Atwood and let us stop for the diary on our way home?
+I could return it to you by mail. Or you might get it yourself some
+other day and mail it to me.”
+
+“No, no! Never put off till to-morrer what you can do to-day. My husband
+was a great hand to put off and put off. For the last eight years of his
+life I was at him to buy a new go-to-meetin' suit of clothes. The one
+he had was blue to start with, but it faded to a brown, and, toward the
+last of it, I declare if it didn't commence to turn green. Nothin' I
+could say would make him heave it away even then. Seemed to think more
+of it than ever. Said he wanted to hang to it a spell and see what
+'twould turn next. But he died and was laid out in that same suit, and
+I was so mortified at the funeral I couldn't think of nothin' else. No,
+I'll go after them papers and the diary while they're fresh in my mind.
+And besides, do you s'pose I'd let Sarah Ann Atwood rummage through my
+trunks? I guess not!”
+
+Phoebe began to be sorry she had thought of sending for the diary,
+particularly as the chance of its containing valuable information was
+so remote. Mrs. Beasley went into the house to dress for the ride. The
+schoolmistress went with her as far as the sitting room. The perturbed
+Bailey stalked off, muttering, to the blacksmith's.
+
+In a little while he returned, leading Henry by the bridle. Debby,
+adorned with the beflowered bonnet she had worn when she arrived at the
+Cy Whittaker place, and with a black cloth cape over her lean shoulders,
+was waiting for him by the open door of the barn. The cape had a fur
+collar--“cat fur,” so Mr. Bangs said afterwards in describing it.
+
+“Pull the sulky right out,” commanded the widow.
+
+Bailey stared into the black interior of the barn.
+
+“Which is it?” he shouted.
+
+Mrs. Beasley pointed with her ear trumpet.
+
+“Why, that one there, of course. 'Tother's a truck cart. You wouldn't
+expect me to ride in that, would you?”
+
+Mr. Bangs entered the barn, seized the vehicle indicated by the shafts,
+and drew it out into the yard. He inspected it deliberately, and
+then sat weakly down on the chopping block near by. Apparently he was
+overcome by emotion.
+
+The “sulky” bequeathed by the late doctor had been built to order for
+its former owner. It was of the “carryall” variety, except that it had
+but a single narrow seat. Its top was square and was curtained, the
+curtains being tightly buttoned down. Altogether it was something of a
+curiosity. Miss Dawes, who had come out to see the start, looked at the
+“sulky,” then at Mr. Bangs's face, and turned her back. Her shoulders
+shook:
+
+“It used to be a real nice carriage when Ezra had it,” commented the
+widow admiringly. “It needs ilin' and sprucin' up now, but I guess
+'twill do. Come!” to Bailey, who had not risen from the chopping block.
+“Hurry up and harness or we'll never get started. Thought you wanted to
+get back for dinner?”
+
+Mr. Bangs stood up and heaved a sigh.
+
+“I did,” he answered slowly, “but,” with a glance at the sulky,
+“somethin' seems to have took away my appetite. Teacher, do you mean
+to--”
+
+But Miss Dawes had withdrawn to the corner of the house, from which
+viewpoint she seemed to be inspecting the surrounding landscape. Bailey
+seized Henry by the bridle and backed him into the shafts.
+
+“Back up!” he roared. “Back up, I tell you! You needn't look at me that
+way,” he added, in a lower tone. “_I_ can't help it. You ain't any worse
+ashamed than I am. There! the ark's off the ways. All aboard!”
+
+Turning to the expectant widow, he “boosted” her, not too tenderly, up
+to the narrow seat. Then he climbed in himself. Two on that seat made
+a tight fit. Bailey took up the reins. Debby leaned forward and peered
+around the edge of the curtains.
+
+“You!” she shouted. “You, Miss What's-your-name--Dorcas! Come here a
+minute. I want to tell you somethin'.”
+
+The schoolmistress, her face red and her eyes moist, approached.
+
+“I just wanted to say,” explained Debby, “that I ain't real sure as that
+diary's there. I burnt up a lot of my old letters and things a spell
+ago, and seems to me I burnt some old diaries, too, but maybe that wan't
+one of 'em. Anyhow, I can get them Arizona papers, and I do want you to
+see 'em. They're the most INTERESTIN' things. Now,” she added, turning
+to her companion on the seat, “you can git dap just as soon as you want
+to.”
+
+Whether or not Mr. Bangs wanted to “git dap” is a doubtful question. But
+at all events he did. Before the astonished Miss Dawes could think of an
+answer to the observation concerning the diary, the carriage, its
+long unused axles shrieking protests, moved out of the yard. The
+schoolmistress watched it go. Then she returned to the sitting room and
+collapsed in a rocking chair.
+
+Once out from the shelter of the house and on the open road, the sulky
+received the full force of the wind. The first gust that howled in from
+the bay struck its curtained side with a sudden burst of power that
+caused Mrs. Beasley to clutch her driver's arm.
+
+“Good land of mercy!” she screamed. “It blows real hard, don't it?”
+
+Mr. Bangs's answer was in the form of delicate sarcasm, bellowed into
+the ear trumpet.
+
+“Sho!” he exclaimed. “I want to know! You don't say! Now you mention it,
+seems as if I had noticed a little air stirrin'.”
+
+Another gust tilted the carriage top. Debby clutched the arm still
+tighter.
+
+“Why, it blows awful hard!” she cried. “I'd no idee it blew like this.”
+
+“Want to 'bout ship and go home again?” whooped Bailey, hopefully. But
+the widow didn't intend to give up the rare luxury of a “ride” which a
+kind Providence had cast in her way.
+
+“No, no!” she answered. “I guess if you folks come all the way from
+Bayport I can stand it as fur's the Center. But hurry all you can, won't
+you? I'm kind of 'fraid of the springs.”
+
+“Springs? What springs? Let go my arm, will you? It's goin' to sleep.”
+
+Mrs. Beasley let go of the arm momentarily.
+
+“I mean the springs on this carriage,” she explained. “Last time I lent
+it to anybody--Solon Davis, 'twas--he said the bolts underneath was
+pretty nigh rusted out, and about all that held the wagon part on was
+its own weight. So we'll have to be kind of careful.”
+
+“Well--I--swan--to--MAN!” was Mr. Bangs's sole comment on the amazing
+disclosure; however, as an expression of concentrated and profound
+disgust it was quite sufficient. He spoke but once during the remainder
+of the trip to the “Center.” Then, when his passenger begged to know
+if “that Whittaker man” had been well since she left, he shouted:
+“Yes--EVER since,” and relapsed into his former gloomy silence.
+
+The widow's stop at the Atwood house, which was in the immediate rear of
+the Atwood store, was of a half hour's duration. Bailey refused to
+leave the seat of the sulky and sat there, speaking to no one; not even
+replying to the questions of a group of loungers who gathered to inspect
+the ancient vehicle, and professed to be in doubt as to whether it had
+been washed in with the tide or been “left” to him in a will.
+
+At last Debby made her appearance, her arms filled with newspapers. The
+latter she piled under the carriage seat, and then climbed to her former
+place beside the driver. Henry, in response to a slap from the reins,
+got under way once more. The axles squeaked and screamed.
+
+“Gee!” cried one youngster, from the steps of the store. “It's the steam
+calliope. When's the rest of the show comin'?”
+
+“Hi!” yelled another. “See how close they're hugged up together. Ain't
+they lovin'! It's a weddin'!”
+
+“Shut up!” roared the tortured Bailey, whose hat had blown back into the
+body of the sulky, leaving his bald head exposed to the cutting wind.
+
+The audience begged him to give them a lock of his hair, and added other
+remarks of a personal nature concerning the youth and beauty of the
+bridal couple and their chariot. Mr. Bangs was in a state of dumb
+frenzy. Debby, who, without her trumpet, had heard nothing of all this,
+was smiling and garrulous.
+
+“I found all the papers,” she said. “They're right under the seat. I'm
+goin' to look 'em over so's to have the interestin' parts all ready to
+show Miss Dorcas when we get home. Ain't it nice I found 'em?”
+
+In spite of her driver's remonstrances, unheard because of the
+nonadjustment of the trumpet, she reached under the seat and brought out
+the pile of Blazeton weeklies. With her feet upon the pile to keep
+it from blowing away, she proceeded to unfold one of the papers. It
+crackled and snapped in the wind like a loose mainsail.
+
+“Keep that dratted thing out of my face, won't you?” shrieked the
+agonized Bailey. “How'm I goin' to see to steer with that smackin' me
+between the eyes every other second?”
+
+“Hey? Did you speak to me?” asked the widow sweetly.
+
+“Did I SPEAK? No, I screeched! What in tunket--”
+
+“I want you to see this picture of the mayor's house in Blazeton. Eva,
+my husband's niece, lives right acrost the road from him. Many's the
+time I've set on their piazza and seen him come out and go to the City
+Hall.”
+
+“Keep it out of my face, I tell you! Reef it! Furl it, you--you woman! I
+wish to thunder the piazza had caved in on you! I never see such an old
+fool in my born days. TAKE IT AWAY!”
+
+Mrs. Beasley removed the paper, but only to substitute another.
+
+“Here's Eva's brother-in-law,” she screamed. “He's one of the prominent
+business men out there, so they put him in the paper. Ain't he nice
+lookin'?”
+
+Bailey's comments on the prominent business man's appearance were
+anything but flattering. Debby continued to reach for more papers,
+carefully replacing those she had inspected in the pile beneath her
+feet. The wind blew as hard as ever; even harder, for it was now almost
+dead ahead. Henry plodded along. They were in the hollow at the foot of
+the last long hill, that from which the blacksmith shop had first been
+sighted.
+
+“I know what I'll do,” declared the passenger. “I'll hunt for that
+missin' husband advertisement of Desire Higgins's. Let's see now! 'Twill
+be down at the bottom of the pile, 'cause the paper it's in is a last
+year one.”
+
+She bobbed down behind the high dashboard. Mr. Bangs stood up in order
+that her gymnastics might interfere, to a lesser degree, with his
+driving. The equipage began to move up the slope of the hill, bouncing
+and twisting in the frozen ruts.
+
+“Here 'tis!” exclaimed Debby. “I remember it's in this number, 'cause
+there's a picture of the Palace Hotel on the front page. Let's see--'Dog
+lost'--no, that ain't it. 'Corner lot for sale'--wish I had money enough
+to buy it; I'd like nothin' better than to live out there. 'Information
+wanted of my husband'--Here 'tis! Um--hum!”
+
+She straightened up and eagerly began reading the advertisement. The
+hill was very steep just at its top, and the sulky slanted backward at
+a sharp angle. A terrific burst of wind tore around the corner of
+the bluff. It eddied through the sulky between the dashboard and
+the curtained sides. The widow, in her excitement at finding the
+advertisement, had inadvertently removed her feet from the pile of
+papers. In an instant the air was filled with whirling copies of the
+Blazeton Weekly Courier.
+
+Henry, the horse, was a sober animal who had long ago reached the age of
+discretion. But to have his old ears and eyes suddenly blanketed with a
+flapping white thing swooping apparently from nowhere was too much even
+for his sedate nerves. He jumped sidewise. The reins were jerked from
+the driver's hands and fell in the road.
+
+“Mercy on us!” shrieked Debby, clutching her companion about the waist.
+“What--”
+
+“Let go of me!” howled Bailey, pushing her violently aside. “Whoa! Stand
+still!”
+
+But Henry refused to stand still. The flapping paper still clung to his
+agitated head. He reared and pranced, jerking the sulky back and forth,
+its wheels still wedged in the ruts. Bailey sprang to the ground to pick
+up the reins. He seized them, but fell as he did so. The tug at his bits
+turned Henry's head, literally and figuratively. He reared and whirled
+about. The sulky rose on two wheels. The screaming Mrs. Beasley
+collapsed against its downward side. Another moment, and the whole upper
+half of the sulky--body, seat, curtains, and Debby--tilted over the
+lower wheels, and, the rusted bolts failing to hold, slid with a thump
+to the frozen road. The wind, catching it underneath as it slid, tipped
+it backward. Then Henry ran away.
+
+
+
+Miss Dawes, left alone in the house at the foot of the hill, had amused
+herself for a time with the Beasley library, which partially filled a
+shelf in the sitting room. But “The Book of Martyrs” and “A Believer's
+Thoughts on Death” were not cheering literature, particularly as the
+author of the latter volume “thought” so dismally concerning the future
+of all who did not believe precisely as he did. So the teacher laid down
+the book, with a shudder, and wandered about the room, inspecting the
+late Mr. Beasley's portrait, the photographs in splintwork frames, the
+“alum basket” on the mantel, the blue castles, blue trees, and blue
+people pictured on the window shades, and other works of art in the
+apartment. She even peeped into the parlor, but the musty, shut-up
+smell of that dusky tomb was too much for her, and she sat down by the
+sitting-room window, under the empty bird cage, to look up the road and
+watch for the return of the sulky and its occupants.
+
+Sitting there, she was a witness of the alarming catastrophe on the
+hilltop, and reached the front gate just in time to see Henry go
+galloping by, dragging the four wheels and springs of the sulky, while,
+sprawled across the rear axle and still clinging to the reins, hung a
+familiar, howling, and most wickedly profane individual by the name of
+Bangs.
+
+The runaway dashed on toward the blacksmith shop. Phoebe, bareheaded and
+coatless, ran up the hill. Before she reached the crest, she was aware
+of muffled screams, which sounded as if the screamer was shut up in a
+trunk.
+
+“O-o-oh!” screamed Mrs. Beasley. “O-o-oh! Ow! Let me out! Help! I'm
+stuck! My back's broke! He-e-lp!”
+
+The upper part of the sulky, with its boxlike curtained top, lay on
+its side in the road. From somewhere within the box came the groans and
+screams. The gale swept the hilltop, and, for a quarter mile to leeward,
+the scenery was animated by soaring, fluttering copies of the Blazeton
+Courier, that swooped and ducked like mammoth white butterflies.
+
+The panting and alarmed teacher stooped and peered into the dark shadow
+between the dashboard and the back curtain. All she could make out
+at first were a pair of thin ankles and “Congress” shoes in agitated
+motion. These bobbed up and down behind the overturned seat and its
+displaced cushion.
+
+“O Mrs. Beasley!” screamed Phoebe. “Are you hurt?”
+
+Debby, of course, did not hear the question. She continued to groan
+and scream for help. Her lungs were not injured, at all events. The
+schoolmistress, dropping on her knees, reached into the sulky top and
+tugged at the seat. It was rather tightly wedged, but she managed to
+loosen it and pull it toward her.
+
+The widow raised herself on an elbow and looked out between the flowers
+of her smashed bonnet.
+
+“Who is it?” she demanded. “Oh, is that you, Miss Dorcas? Oh, my soul
+and body! Oh, my stars! Oh, my goodness me!”
+
+“Are you hurt?” shrieked Phoebe.
+
+“Hey? I don't know! I don't know WHAT I be! I don't know nothin'!”
+
+“Can you help yourself? Can you get up?”
+
+“Hey? I don't know. Maybe I can if you haul that everlastin' seat out of
+the way. Oh, my sakes alive!”
+
+Her rescuer pulled the seat forward, and, with an effort, tumbled it
+clear of the curtains. Debby raised herself still higher.
+
+“Oh!” she groaned. “Talk about--Land sakes! who's comin'? Men, ain't it?
+Let me out of here quick! QUICK!”
+
+She scrambled out of her prison on hands and knees, and jumped to her
+feet with reassuring alacrity. Her fur-collared cape was draped in a
+roll about her neck, and her bonnet hung jauntily over her left eye.
+
+“I'm a sight, ain't I?” she asked. “Haul this bunnet straight, quick's
+ever you can. Hurt? No, no! I ain't hurt none but my feelin's. Hurry
+UP! S'pose I want them men folks to see me with everything all hind side
+to?”
+
+Miss Dawes, relieved to find that the accident had had no serious
+consequences, and trying her hardest not to laugh, assisted the widow
+to rearrange her wearing apparel. The blacksmith and his helper came
+running up the hill.
+
+“Hello, Debby!” hailed the former. “What's the matter? Hurt, be you?”
+
+Mrs. Beasley, whether she heard or not, did not deign to reply.
+
+“Get my horn out of that carriage,” she ordered. “Don't stand there
+gapin'. Get it.”
+
+The ear trumpet was resurrected from the interior of the vehicle. The
+widow adjusted it with dignity.
+
+“Had a spill, didn't you, Debby?” inquired the blacksmith. “Upset,
+didn't you?”
+
+Debby glared at him.
+
+“No,” she replied with sarcasm. “Course I didn't upset! Just thought
+I'd roll round in the road for the fun of it. Smart question, that is!
+Where's that Bailey Bangs gone to with the rest of my carriage?”
+
+The blacksmith pointed to his shop in the hollow. Before it stood Mr.
+Bangs, holding Henry by the bridle, and staring in their direction.
+
+“He's all right,” volunteered the “helper.” “The horse stopped runnin'
+soon's he got to the foot of the next hill.”
+
+Mrs. Beasley was not, apparently, overjoyed at the news.
+
+“Humph!” she grunted. “I 'most wish he'd broke his neck! Pesky, careless
+thing! gettin' us run away with and upset. Who's goin' to pay for fixin'
+my sulky, I want to know?”
+
+“Mr. Bangs will pay for it, I'm sure,” said Phoebe soothingly. “If he
+doesn't, I will. Oh, Mrs. Beasley! did you find the diary?”
+
+“Diary? No, no! I told you I was afraid I'd burnt it up. Well, I had,
+and a whole lot more of them old ones. But I did get all them Arizona
+papers, and took the trouble to tote 'em all the way here so's you could
+look at 'em. And now”--she shook with indignation and waved her hand
+toward a section of horizon where little white dots indicated the
+whereabouts of the Couriers--“now look where they be! Blowed from Dan to
+Beersheby! Come on to the house and let me set down. I been standin' on
+my head till I'm tired. Here, Jabez,” to the blacksmith, “you tend to
+that carriage, will you?”
+
+She stalked off down the hill. The schoolmistress turning to follow her,
+caught a glimpse of the “helper” doubled up with silent laughter, and
+the blacksmith grinning broadly as he stooped toward the capsized sulky.
+
+Phoebe was downcast and disappointed. She was convinced, in her own
+mind, that the Honorable Atkins had some hidden motive for his espousal
+of the Thomas cause. Asaph's fruitless quest in Orham had not shaken
+her faith. Captain Cy had refused to seek Debby Beasley for information
+concerning the Thayers, and so she, on her own responsibility, had done
+so. And this was the ridiculous ending of her journey. The diary had
+been a forlorn hope; now that was burned. Poor Bos'n! and poor--some one
+else!
+
+Debby marching down the hill, continued to sputter about the lost
+weeklies.
+
+“It's an everlastin' shame!” she declared. “I'd just found the one with
+that advertisement in it and was readin' it. I remember the part I read,
+plain as could be. While we're eatin' dinner I'll tell you about it.”
+
+But Miss Dawes did not care for dinner. Like Mr. Tidditt and the
+captain, she had had about all the Debby Beasley she wanted.
+
+“Yes, yes, you will stop, too,” affirmed the widow. “I want to tell you
+more about Blazeton. I can see that advertisement this minute, right
+afore my eyes--'Information wanted of my husband, Edward Higgins. Five
+foot eight inches tall, sandy complected, brown hair, and yellowish
+mustache; not lame, but has a peculiar slight limp with his left
+foot--'”
+
+“What?” asked the schoolmistress, stopping short.
+
+“Hey? 'Has a peculiar limp with his left foot.' I remember how Desire
+used to talk about that limp. She said 'twas almost as if he stuttered
+with his leg. He hurt it when he was up in Montana, and--”
+
+“Oh!” cried Miss Dawes. The color had left her face.
+
+“Yes. You see he used to be a miner or somethin' up there. He'd never
+say much about his younger days, but one time he did tell that. I'd
+just got as far as that limp when the sulky upset. Talk about bein'
+surprised! I never was so surprised in my life as when that horse
+critter rared up and--”
+
+Phoebe interrupted. Her color had come back, and her eyes were shining.
+
+“Mrs. Beasley,” she cried, “I think I shall change my mind. I believe I
+will stay to dinner after all. I'm EVER so much interested in Arizona.”
+
+
+
+Bailey and the teacher began their long drive home about four o'clock.
+The buggy axle had been fixed, and the wind was less violent. Mr. Bangs
+was glum and moody. He seemed to be thinking.
+
+“Say, teacher,” he said at length, “I'd like to ask a favor of you. If
+it ain't necessary, I wish you wouldn't say nothin' about that upsettin'
+business to the folks to home. It does sound so dum foolish! I'll never
+hear the last of it.”
+
+Miss Dawes, who had been in high spirits, now took a moment for
+reflection.
+
+“All right!” she said, nodding vigorously. “We won't mention it, then.
+We won't tell a soul. You can say that I called at the Atwoods', if you
+want to; that will be true, because I did. And we'll have Mrs. Beasley
+for our secret--yours and mine--until we decide to tell. It's a bargain,
+Mr. Bangs. We must shake hands on it.”
+
+They shook hands, and Bailey, looking in her face, thought he never
+saw her look so well or as young. She was pretty, he decided. Then he
+thought of his own choice of a wife, and--well, if he had any regrets,
+he hasn't mentioned them, not even to his fellow-member of the Board of
+Strategy.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE CAPTAIN REMEMBERS HIS AGE
+
+
+December was nearly over. Christmas had come. Bos'n had hung up her
+stocking by the base-burner stove, and found it warty and dropsical
+the next morning, with a generous overflow of gifts piled on the floor
+beneath it. The Board of Strategy sent presents; so did Miss Dawes and
+Georgianna. As for Captain Cy he spent many evening hours, after the
+rest of his household was in bed, poring over catalogues of toys and
+books, and the orders he sent to the big shops in Boston were lengthy
+and costly. The little girl's eyes opened wide when she saw the stocking
+and the treasures heaped on the floor. She sat in her “nighty” amidst
+the wonders, books, and playthings in a circle about her, and the
+biggest doll of all hugged close in her arms. Captain Cy, who had arisen
+at half past five in order to be with her on the great occasion, was at
+least as happy as she.
+
+“Like 'em, do you?” he asked, smiling.
+
+“like 'em! O Uncle Cy! What makes everybody so good to me?”
+
+“I don't know. Strange thing, ain't it--considerin' what a hard little
+ticket you are.”
+
+Bos'n laughed. She understood her “Uncle Cy,” and didn't mind being
+called a “hard ticket” by him.
+
+“I--I--didn't believe anybody COULD have such a nice Christmas. I never
+saw so many nice things.”
+
+“Humph! What do you like best?”
+
+The answer was a question, and was characteristic.
+
+“Which did you give me?” asked Bos'n.
+
+The captain would have dodged, but she wouldn't let him. So one by one
+the presents he had given were indicated and put by themselves. The
+remainder were but few, but she insisted that the givers of these should
+be named. When the sorting was over she sat silently hugging her doll
+and, apparently, thinking.
+
+“Well?” inquired the amused captain. “Made up your mind yet? Which do
+you like best?”
+
+The child nodded.
+
+“Why, these, of course,” she declared with emphasis, pointing with her
+dollie's slippered foot at Captain Cy's pile.
+
+“So? Do, hey? Didn't know I could pick so well. All right; the first
+prize is mine. Who takes the second?”
+
+This time Bos'n deliberated before answering. At last, however, she bent
+forward and touched the teacher's gifts.
+
+“These,” she said. “I like these next best.”
+
+Captain Cy was surprised.
+
+“Sho!” he exclaimed. “You don't say!”
+
+“Yes. I think I like teacher next to you. I like Georgianna and Mr.
+Tidditt and Mr. Bangs, of course, but I like her a little better. Don't
+you, uncle Cyrus?”
+
+The captain changed the subject. He asked her what she should name her
+doll.
+
+The Board of Strategy came in during the forenoon, and the presents had
+to be shown to them. While the exhibition was in progress Miss Dawes
+called. And before she left Gabe Lumley drove up in the depot wagon
+bearing a big express package addressed to “Miss Emily Thomas, Bayport.”
+
+“Humph!” exclaimed Captain Cy. “Somethin' more for Bos'n, hey! Who in
+the world sent it, do you s'pose?”
+
+Asaph and Bailey made various inane suggestions as to the sender. Phoebe
+said nothing. There was a frown on her face as she watched the captain
+get to work on the box with chisel and hammer. It contained a beautiful
+doll, fully and expensively dressed, and pinned to the dress was a
+card--“To dear little Emmie, from her lonesome Papa.”
+
+The Board of Strategy looked at the doll in wonder and astonishment.
+Captain Cy strode away to the window.
+
+“Well!” exclaimed Mr. Bangs. “I didn't believe he had that much heart
+inside of him. I bet you that cost four or five dollars; ain't that so,
+Cy?”
+
+The captain did not answer.
+
+“Don't you think so, teacher?” repeated Bailey, turning to Phoebe. “What
+ails you? You don't seem surprised.”
+
+“I'm not,” replied the lady. “I expected something of that sort.”
+
+Captain Cy wheeled from the window.
+
+“You DID?” he asked.
+
+“Yes. Miss Phinney said the other day she had heard that that man
+was going to give his daughter a beautiful present. She was very
+enthusiastic about his generosity and self-sacrifice. I asked who told
+her and she said Mr. Simpson.”
+
+“Oh! Tad? Is that so!” The captain looked at her.
+
+“Yes. And I think there is no doubt that Simpson had orders to make the
+'generosity' known to as many townspeople as possible.”
+
+“Hum! I see. You figure that Thomas cal'lates 'twill help his popularity
+and make his case stronger; is that it?”
+
+“Not exactly. I doubt if he ever thought of such a thing himself. But
+some one thought for him--and some one must have supplied the money.”
+
+“Well, they say he's to work up in Boston.”
+
+“I know. But no one can tell where he works. Captain Whittaker, this is
+Mr. Atkins's doing--you know it. Now, WHY does he, a busy man, take such
+an interest in getting this child away from you?”
+
+Captain Cy shook his head and smiled.
+
+“Teacher,” he said, “you're dead set on taggin' Heman with a mystery,
+ain't you?”
+
+“Miss Dawes,” asked the forgetful Bailey, “when you and me went drivin'
+t'other day did you find out anything from--”
+
+Phoebe interrupted quickly.
+
+“Mr. Bangs,” she said, “at what time do we distribute Christmas presents
+at your boarding house? I suppose you must have many Christmas secrets
+to keep. You keep a secret SO well.”
+
+Mr. Bangs turned red. The hint concerning secret keeping was not wasted.
+He did not mention the drive again.
+
+A little later Captain Cy found Bos'n busily playing with the doll he
+had given her. The other, her father's gift, was nowhere in sight.
+
+“I put her back in the box,” said the child in reply to his question.
+“She was awful pretty, but I think I'm goin' to love this one best.”
+
+The remark seems a foolish thing to give comfort to a grown man, but
+Captain Cy found comfort in it, and comfort was what he needed.
+
+He needed it more as time went on. In January the court gave its
+decision. The captain's appointment as guardian was revoked. With
+the father alive, and professedly anxious to provide for the child's
+support, nothing else was to be expected, so Mr. Peabody said. The
+latter entered an appeal which would delay matters for a time, two or
+three months perhaps; meanwhile Captain Cy was to retain custody of
+Bos'n.
+
+But the court's action, expected though it was, made the captain very
+blue and downcast. He could see no hope. He felt certain that he should
+lose the little girl in the end, in spite of the long succession of
+appeals which his lawyer contemplated. And what would become of her
+then? What sort of training would she be likely to have? Who would her
+associates be, under the authority of a father such as hers? And what
+would he do, alone in the old house, when she had gone for good? He
+could not bear to think of it, and yet he thought of little else.
+
+The evenings, after Bos'n had gone to bed, were the worst. During the
+day he tried his best to be busy at something or other. The doll
+house was finished, and he had begun to fashion a full-rigged ship in
+miniature. In reality Emily, being a normal little girl, was not greatly
+interested in ships, but, because Uncle Cy was making it, she pretended
+to be vastly concerned about this one. On Saturdays and after school
+hours she sat on a box in the wood shed, where the captain had put up
+a small stove, and watched him work. The taboo which so many of our
+righteous and Atkins-worshiping townspeople had put upon the Whittaker
+place and its occupants included her, and a number of children had
+been forbidden to play with her. This, however, did not prevent their
+tormenting her about her father and her disreputable guardian.
+
+But the captain's evenings were miserable. He no longer went to
+Simmons's. He didn't care for the crowd there, and knew they were all
+“down” on him. Josiah Dimick called occasionally, and the Board of
+Strategy often, but their conversation was rather tiresome. There were
+times when Captain Cy hated Bayport, the house he had “fixed up” with
+such interest and pride, and the old sitting room in particular. The
+mental picture of comfort and contentment which had been his dream
+through so many years of struggle and wandering, looked farther off than
+ever. Sometimes he was tempted to run away, taking Bos'n with him. But
+the captain had never run away from a fight yet; he had never abandoned
+a ship while there was a chance of keeping her afloat. And, besides,
+there was another reason.
+
+Phoebe Dawes had come to be his chief reliance. He saw a great deal of
+her. Often when she walked home from school, she found him hanging over
+the front gate, and they talked of various things--of Bos'n's progress
+with her studies, of the school work, and similar topics. He called her
+by her first name now, although in this there was nothing unusual--after
+a few weeks' acquaintance we Bayporters almost invariably address people
+by their “front” names. Sometimes she came to the house with Emily. Then
+the three sat by the stove in the sitting room, and the apartment became
+really cheerful, in the captain's eyes.
+
+Phoebe was in good spirits. She was as hopeful as Captain Cy was
+despondent. She seemed to have little fear of the outcome of the
+legal proceedings, the appeals and the rest. In fact, she now appeared
+desirous of evading the subject, and there was about her an air of
+suppressed excitement. Her optimism was the best sort of bracer for the
+captain's failing courage. Her advice was always good, and a talk with
+her left him with shoulders squared, mentally, and almost happy.
+
+One cold, rainy afternoon, early in February, she came in with Bos'n,
+who had availed herself of the shelter of the teacher's umbrella.
+Georgianna was in the kitchen baking, and Emily had been promised a
+“saucer pie”--so the child went out to superintend the construction of
+that treat.
+
+“Set down, teacher,” said Captain Cy, pushing forward a rocker. “My!
+but I'm glad to see you. 'Twas bluer'n a whetstone 'round here to-day.
+What's the news--anything?”
+
+“Why, no,” replied Phoebe, accepting the rocker and throwing open her
+wet jacket; “there's no news in particular. But I wanted to ask if you
+had seen the Breeze?”
+
+“Um--hum,” was the listless answer. “I presume likely you mean the news
+about the appropriation, and the editorial dig at yours truly? Yes, I've
+seen it. They don't bother me much. I've got more important things on my
+mind just now.”
+
+Congressman Atkins's pledge in his farewell speech, concerning the
+mighty effort he was to make toward securing the appropriation for
+Bayport harbor, was in process of fulfillment--so he had written to
+the local paper. But, alas! the mighty effort was likely to prove
+unavailing. In spite of the Honorable Heman's battle for his
+constituents' rights it seemed certain that the bill would not provide
+the thirty thousand dollars for Bayport; at least, not this year's bill.
+Other and more powerful interests would win out and, instead, another
+section of the coast be improved at the public expense. The congressman
+was deeply sorry, almost broken-hearted. He had battled hard for his
+beloved town, he had worked night and day. But, to be perfectly frank,
+there was little or no hope.
+
+Few of us blamed Heman Atkins. The majority considered his letter
+“noble” and “so feeling.” But some one must be blamed for a community
+disappointment like this, and the scapegoat was on the premises. How
+about that “committee of one” self-appointed at town meeting? How
+about the blatant person who had declared HE could have gotten the
+appropriation? What had the “committee” done? Nothing! nothing at all!
+He had not even written to the Capital--so far as anyone could find
+out--much less gone there.
+
+So, at Simmons's and the sewing circle, and after meeting on Sunday, Cy
+Whittaker was again discussed and derided. And this week's Breeze, out
+that morning, contained a sarcastic editorial which mentioned no names,
+but hinted at “a certain now notorious person” who had boasted loudly,
+but who had again “been weighed in the balance of public opinion and
+found wanting.”
+
+Miss Dawes did not seem pleased with the captain's nonchalant attitude
+toward the Breeze and its editorial. She tapped the braided mat with her
+foot.
+
+“Captain Cyrus,” she said, “if you intended doing nothing toward
+securing that appropriation why did you accept the responsibility for it
+at the meeting?”
+
+Captain Cy looked up. Her tone reminded him of their first meeting, when
+she had reproved him for going to sleep and leaving Bos'n to the mercy
+of the Cahoon cow.
+
+“Well,” he said, “afore this Thomas business happened, to knock all
+my plans on their beam ends, I'd done consider'ble thinkin' about
+that appropriation. It seemed to me that there must be some reason
+for Heman's comin' about so sudden. He was sartin sure of the thirty
+thousand for a spell; then, all to once, he begun to take in sail and go
+on t'other tack. I don't know much about politics, but I know HE knows
+all the politics there is. And it seemed to me that if a live man, one
+with eyes in his head, went to Washington and looked around he might
+find the reason. And, if he did find it, maybe Heman could be coaxed
+into changin' his mind again. Anyhow, I was willin' to take the risk of
+tryin'; and, besides, Tad and Abe Leonard had me on the griddle at that
+meetin', and I spoke up sharp--too sharp, maybe.”
+
+“But you still believe that you MIGHT help if you went to Washington?”
+
+“Yes. I guess I do. Anyhow, I'd ask some pretty p'inted questions. You
+see, I ain't lived here in Bayport all my life, and I don't swaller ALL
+the bait Heman heaves overboard.”
+
+“Then why don't you go?”
+
+“Hey? Why don't I go? And leave Bos'n and--”
+
+“Emily would be all right and perfectly safe. Georgianna thinks the
+world of her. And, Captain Whittaker, I don't like to hear these people
+talk of you as they do. I don't like to read such things in the paper,
+that you were only bragging in order to be popular, and meant to shirk
+when the time came for action. I know they're not true. I KNOW it!”
+
+Captain Cy was gratified, and his gratification showed in his voice.
+
+“Thank you, Phoebe,” he said. “I am much obliged to you. But, you see,
+I don't take any interest in such things any more. When I realize that
+pretty soon I've got to give up that little girl for good I can't bear
+to be away from her a minute hardly. I don't like to leave her here
+alone with Georgianna and--”
+
+“I will keep an eye on her. You trust me, don't you?”
+
+“Trust YOU? By the big dipper, you're about the only one I CAN trust
+these days. I don't know how I'd have pulled through this if you hadn't
+helped. You're diff'rent from Ase and Bailey and their kind--not meanin'
+anything against them, either. But you're broad-minded and cool-headed
+and--and--Do you know, if I'd had a woman like you to advise me all
+these years and keep me from goin' off the course, I might have been
+somebody by now.”
+
+“I think you're somebody as it is.”
+
+“Don't talk that way. I own up I like to hear you, but I'm 'fraid it
+ain't true. You say I amount to somethin'. Well, what? I come back home
+here, with some money in my pocket, thinkin' that was about all was
+necessary to make me a good deal of a feller. The old Cy Whittaker
+place, I said to myself, was goin' to be a real Cy Whittaker place
+again. And I'd be a real Whittaker, a man who should stand for
+somethin', as my dad and granddad did afore me. The town should respect
+me, and I'd do things to help it along. And what's it all come to? Why,
+every young one on the street is told to be good for fear he'll grow up
+like me. Ain't that so? Course it's so! I'm--”
+
+“You SHALL not speak so! Do you imagine that you're not respected by
+everyone whose respect counts for anything? Yes, and by others, too.
+Don't you suppose Mr. Atkins respects you, down in his heart--if he has
+one? Doesn't your housekeeper, who sees you every day, respect and like
+you? And little Emily--doesn't she love you more than she does all the
+rest of us together?”
+
+“Well, I guess Bos'n does care for the old man some, that's a fact. She
+says she likes you next best, though. Did you know that?”
+
+But Miss Dawes was indignant.
+
+“Captain Whittaker,” she declared, “one would think you were a hundred
+years old to hear you. You are always calling yourself an old man. Does
+Mr. Atkins call himself old? And he is older than you.”
+
+“Well, I'm over fifty, Phoebe.” In spite of the habit for which he had
+just been reproached, the captain found this a difficult statement to
+make.
+
+“I know. But you're younger than most of us at thirty-five. You see, I'm
+confessing, too,” she added with a laugh and a little blush.
+
+Captain Cy made a mental calculation.
+
+“Twenty years,” he said musingly. “Twenty years is a long time. No, I'm
+old. And worse than that, I'm an old fool, I guess. If I hadn't been I'd
+have stayed in South America instead of comin' here to be hooted out of
+the town I was born in.”
+
+The teacher stamped her foot.
+
+“Oh, what SHALL I do with you!” she exclaimed. “It is wicked for you to
+say such things. Do you suppose that Mr. Atkins would find it necessary
+to work as he is doing to beat a fool? And, besides, you're not
+complimentary to me. Should I, do you think, take such an interest in
+one who was an imbecile?”
+
+“Well, 'tis mighty good of you. Your comin' here so to help Bos'n's
+fight along is--”
+
+“How do you know it is Bos'n altogether? I--” She stopped suddenly, and
+the color rushed to her face. She rose from the rocker. “I--really, I
+don't see how we came to be discussing such nonsense,” she said. “Our
+ages and that sort of thing! Captain Cyrus, I wish you would go to
+Washington. I think you ought to go.”
+
+But the captain's thoughts were far from Washington at that moment. His
+own face was alight, and his eyes shone.
+
+“Phoebe,” he faltered unbelievingly, “what was you goin' to say? Do you
+mean that--that--”
+
+The side door of the house opened. The next instant Mr. Tidditt, a
+dripping umbrella in his hand, entered the sitting room.
+
+“Hello, Whit!” he hailed. “Just run in for a minute to say howdy.” Then
+he noticed the schoolmistress, and his expression changed. “Oh! how be
+you, Miss Dawes?” he said. “I didn't see you fust off. Don't run away on
+my account.”
+
+“I was just going,” said Phoebe, buttoning her jacket. Captain Cy
+accompanied her to the door.
+
+“Good-by,” she said. “There was something else I meant to say, but I
+think it is best to wait. I hope to have some good news for you soon.
+Something that will send you to Washington with a light heart. Perhaps I
+shall hear to-morrow. If so, I will call after school and tell you.”
+
+“Yes, do,” urged the captain eagerly. “You'll find me here waitin'. Good
+news or not, do come. I--I ain't said all I wanted to, myself.”
+
+He returned to the sitting room. The town clerk was standing by the
+stove. He looked troubled.
+
+“What's the row, Ase?” asked Cy cheerily. He was overflowing with good
+nature.
+
+“Oh, nothin' special,” replied Mr. Tidditt. “You look joyful enough for
+two of us. Had good company, ain't you?”
+
+“Why, yes; 'bout as good as there is. What makes you look so glum?”
+
+Asaph hesitated.
+
+“Phoebe was here yesterday, too, wan't she?” he asked.
+
+“Yup. What of it?”
+
+“And the day afore that?”
+
+“No, not for three days afore that. But what OF it, I ask you?”
+
+“Well, now, Cy, you mustn't get mad. I'm a friend of yours, and friends
+ought to be able to say 'most anything to each other. If--if I was you,
+I wouldn't let Phoebe come so often--not here, you know, at your house.
+Course, I know she comes with Bos'n and all, but--”
+
+“Out with it!” The captain's tone was ominous. “What are you drivin'
+at?”
+
+The caller fidgeted.
+
+“Well, Whit,” he stammered, “there's consider'ble talkin' goin' on,
+that's all.”
+
+“Talkin'? What kind of talkin'?”
+
+“Well, you know the kind. This town does a good deal of it, 'specially
+after church and prayer meetin'. Seem's if they thought 'twas a sort of
+proper place. _I_ don't myself; I kind of like to keep my charity and
+brotherly love spread out through the week, but--”
+
+“Ase, are the folks in this town sayin' a word against Phoebe Dawes
+because she comes here to see--Bos'n?”
+
+“Don't--don't get mad, Whit. Don't look at me like that. _I_ ain't said
+nothin'. Why, a spell ago, at the boardin' house, I--”
+
+He told of the meal at the perfect boarding house where Miss Dawes
+championed his friend's cause. Also of the conversation which followed,
+and his own part in it. Captain Cy paced the floor.
+
+“I wouldn't have her come so often, Cy,” pleaded Asaph. “Honest, I
+wouldn't. Course, you and me know they're mean, miser'ble liars, but
+it's her I'm thinkin' of. She's a young woman and single. And you're
+a good many years older'n she is. And so, of course, you and she ain't
+ever goin' to get married. And have you thought what effect it might
+have on her keepin' her teacher's place? The committee's a majority
+against her as 'tis. And--you know _I_ don't think so, but a good many
+folks do--you ain't got the best name just now. Darn it all! I ain't
+puttin' this the way I'd ought to, but YOU know what I mean, don't you,
+Cy?”
+
+Captain Cy was leaning against the window frame, his head upon his arm.
+He was not looking out, because the shade was drawn. Tidditt waited
+anxiously for him to answer. At last he turned.
+
+“Ase,” he said, “I'm much obliged to you. You've pounded it in pretty
+hard, but I cal'late I'd ought to have had it done to me. I'm a fool--an
+OLD fool, just as I said a while back--and nothin' nor NOBODY ought to
+have made me forget it. For a minute or so I--but there! don't you fret.
+That young woman shan't risk her job nor her reputation on account of
+me--nor of Bos'n, either. I'll see to that. And see here,” he added
+fiercely, “I can't stop women's tongues, even when they're as bad as
+some of the tongues in this town, BUT if you hear a MAN say one word
+against Phoebe Dawes, only one word, you tell me his name. You hear,
+Ase? You tell me his name. Now run along, will you? I ain't safe company
+just now.”
+
+Asaph, frightened at the effect of his words, hurriedly departed.
+Captain Cy paced the room for the next fifteen minutes. Then he opened
+the kitchen door.
+
+“Bos'n,” he called, “come in and set in my lap a while; don't you want
+to? I'm--I'm sort of lonesome, little girl.”
+
+
+
+The next afternoon, when the schoolmistress, who had been delayed by the
+inevitable examination papers, stopped at the Cy Whittaker place, she
+was met by Georgianna; Emily, who stood behind the housekeeper in the
+doorway, was crying.
+
+“Cap'n Cy has gone away--to Washin'ton,” declared Georgianna. “Though
+what he's gone there for's more'n I know. He said he'd send his hotel
+address soon's he got there. He went on the three o'clock train.”
+
+Phoebe was astonished.
+
+“Gone?” she repeated. “So soon! Why, he told me he should certainly be
+here to hear some news I expected to-day. Didn't he leave any message
+for me?”
+
+The housekeeper turned red.
+
+“Miss Phoebe,” she said, “he told me to tell you somethin', and it's so
+dreadful I don't hardly dast to say it. I think his troubles have driven
+him crazy. He said to tell you that you'd better not come to this house
+any more.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+CONGRESSMAN EVERDEAN
+
+
+In the old days, the great days of sailing ships and land merchant
+fleets, Bayport was a community of travelers. Every ambitious man went
+to sea, and eventually, if he lived, became a captain. Then he took his
+wife, and in most cases his children, with him on long voyages. To the
+stay-at-homes came letters with odd, foreign stamps and postmarks. Our
+what-nots and parlor mantels were filled with carved bits of ivory,
+gorgeous shells, alabaster candlesticks, and plaster miniatures of
+the Leaning Tower at Pisa or the Coliseum at Rome. We usually began
+a conversation with “When my husband and I were at Hong Kong the last
+time--” or “I remember at Mauritius they always--” New Orleans or
+'Frisco were the nearest domestic ports the mention of which was
+considered worth while.
+
+But this is so no longer. A trip to Boston is, of course, no novelty to
+the most of us; but when we visit New York we take care to advertise it
+beforehand. And the few who avail themselves of the spring “cut rates”
+ and go on excursions to Washington, plan definite programmes for each
+day at the Capital, and discuss them with envious friends for weeks in
+advance. And if the prearranged programme is not scrupulously carried
+out, we feel that we have been defrauded. It was the regret of Aunt
+Sophronia Hallett's life that, on her Washington excursion, she had not
+seen the “Diplomatic Corpse.” She saw the President and the Monument and
+Congress and “the relics in the Smithsonian Institute,” but the “Corpse”
+ was not on view; Aunt Sophronia never quite got over the disappointment.
+
+Probably no other Bayporter, in recent years, has started for Washington
+on such short notice or with so ill-defined a programme as Captain
+Cy. He went because he felt that he must go somewhere. After the
+conversation with Asaph, he simply could not remain at home. If Phoebe
+Dawes called, he knew that he must see her, and if he saw her, what
+should he say to her? He could not tell her that she must not visit the
+Cy Whittaker place again. If he did, she would insist upon the reason.
+If he told her of the “town talk,” he felt sure, knowing her, that she
+would indignantly refuse to heed the malicious gossip. And he was firmly
+resolved not to permit her to compromise her life and her future by
+friendship with a social outcast like himself. As for anything deeper
+and more sacred than friendship, that was ridiculous. If, for a moment,
+a remark of hers had led him to dream of such a thing, it was because he
+was, as he had so often declared, an “old fool.”
+
+So Captain Cy had resolved upon flight, and he fled to Washington
+because the business of the “committee of one” offered a legitimate
+excuse for going there. The blunt message he had intrusted to Georgianna
+would, he believed, arouse Phoebe's indignation. She would not call
+again. And when he returned to Bos'n, it would be to take up the child's
+fight alone. If he lost that fight, or WHEN he lost it, he would close
+the Cy Whittaker place, and leave Bayport for good.
+
+He had been in Washington once before, years ago, when he was first
+mate of a ship and had a few weeks' shore leave. Then he went there on
+a pleasure trip with some seagoing friends, and had a jolly time. But
+there was precious little jollity in the present visit. He had never
+felt so thoroughly miserable. In order to forget, he made up his mind to
+work his hardest to discover why the harbor appropriation was not to be
+given to Bayport.
+
+The city had changed greatly. He would scarcely have known it. He
+went to the hotel where he had stayed before, and found a big, modern
+building in its place. The clerk was inclined to be rather curt and
+perfunctory at first, but when he learned that the captain was not
+anxious concerning the price of accommodations, but merely wanted a
+“comf'table berth somewheres on the saloon deck,” and appeared to have
+plenty of money, he grew polite. Captain Cy was shown to his room, where
+he left his valise. Then he went down to dinner.
+
+After the meal was over, he seated himself in one of the big leather
+chairs in the hotel lobby, smoked and thought. In the summer, before
+Bos'n came, and before her father had arisen to upset every calculation
+and wreck all his plans, the captain had given serious thought to what
+he should do if Congressman Atkins failed, as even then he seemed likely
+to do, in securing that appropriation. The obvious thing, of course,
+would have been to hunt up Mr. Atkins and question him. But this was
+altogether too obvious. In the first place, the strained relations
+between them would make the interview uncomfortable; and, in the
+second, if there was anything underhand in Heman's backsliding on the
+appropriation, Atkins was too wary a bird to be snared with questions.
+
+But Captain Cy had another acquaintance in the city, the son of a still
+older acquaintance, who had been a wealthy shipping merchant and mine
+owner in California. The son was also a congressman, from a coast State,
+and the captain had read of him in the papers. A sketch of his life had
+been printed, and this made his identity absolutely certain. Captain
+Cy's original idea had been to write to this congressman. Now he
+determined to find and interview him.
+
+He inquired concerning him of the hotel clerk, who, like all Washington
+clerks, was a walking edition of “Who's Who at the Capital.”
+
+“Congressman Everdean?” repeated the all-knowing young gentleman. “Yes.
+He's in town. Has rooms at the Gloria; second hotel on the right as you
+go up the avenue. Only a short walk. What can I do for you, sir?”
+
+The Gloria was an even bigger hotel than the one where the captain had
+his “berth.” An inquiry at the desk, of another important clerk, was
+answered with a brisk:
+
+“Mr. Everdean? Yes, he rooms here. Don't know whether he's in or not.
+Evening, judge. Nice Winter weather we're having.”
+
+The judge, who was a ponderous person vaguely suggesting the great
+Heman, admitted that the weather was fine, patronizing it as he did so.
+The clerk continued the conversation. Captain Cy waited. At length he
+spoke.
+
+“Excuse me, commodore,” he said; “I don't like to break in until you've
+settled whether you have it snow or not, but I'm here to see Congressman
+Everdean. Hadn't you better order one of your fo'mast hands to hunt him
+up?”
+
+The judge condescended to smile, as did several other men who stood
+near. The clerk reddened.
+
+“Do you want to see Mr. Everdean?” he snapped.
+
+“Why, yes, I did. But I can't see him from here without strainin' my
+eyesight.”
+
+The clerk sharply demanded one of the captain's visiting cards.
+He didn't get one, for the very good reason that there was none in
+existence.
+
+“Tell him an old friend of his dad's is here on the main deck waitin'
+for him,” said Captain Cy. “That'll do first rate. Thank you, admiral.”
+
+Word came that the congressman would be down in a few moments. The
+captain beguiled the interval by leaning on the rail and regarding the
+clerk with an awed curiosity that annoyed its object exceedingly. The
+inspection was still on when a tall man, of an age somewhere in the
+early thirties, walked briskly up to the desk.
+
+“Who is it that wants to see me?” he asked.
+
+The clerk waved a deprecatory hand in Captain Cy's direction. The
+newcomer turned.
+
+“My name is Everdean,” he said. “Are you--hey?--Great Scott! Is it
+possible this is Captain Whittaker?”
+
+The captain was immensely pleased.
+
+“Well, I declare, Ed!” he exclaimed. “I didn't believe you'd remember me
+after all these years. You was nothin' but a boy when I saw you out
+in 'Frisco. Well! well! No wonder you're in Congress. A man that can
+remember faces like that ought to be President.”
+
+Everdean laughed as they shook hands.
+
+“Don't suppose I'd forget the chap who used to dine with us and tell me
+those sea stories, do you?” he said. “I'm mighty glad to see you. What
+are you doing here? The last father and I heard of you, you were in
+South America. Given up the sea, they said, and getting rich fast.”
+
+Captain Cy chuckled.
+
+“It's a good thing I learned long ago not to believe all I hear,” he
+answered, “else I'd have been so sure I was rich that I'd have spent all
+I had, and been permanent boarder at the poorhouse by now. No, thanks;
+I've had dinner. Why, yes, I'll smoke, if you'll help along. How's your
+father? Smart, is he?”
+
+The congressman insisted that they should adjourn to his rooms. An
+unmarried man, he kept bachelor's hall at the hotel during his stay in
+Washington. There, in comfortable chairs, they spoke of old times, when
+the captain was seafaring and the Everdean home had been his while his
+ship was in port at 'Frisco. He told of his return to Bayport, and the
+renovation of the old house. Of Bos'n he said nothing. At last Everdean
+asked what had brought him to Washington.
+
+“Well,” said Captain Cy, “I'll tell you. I'm like the feller in court
+without a lawyer; he said he couldn't tell whether he was guilty or not
+'count of havin' no professional advice. That's what I've come to you
+for, Ed--professional advice.”
+
+He told the harbor appropriation story. At the incident of the
+“committee of one” his friend laughed heartily.
+
+“Rather put your foot in it that time, Captain, didn't you?” he said.
+
+“Yup. Then I got t'other one stuck tryin' to get the first clear. How's
+it look to you? All straight, do you think? or is there a nigger in the
+wood pile?”
+
+Mr. Everdean seemed to reflect.
+
+“Well, Captain,” he said, “I can't tell. You're asking delicate
+questions. Politicians are like doctors, they usually back up each
+other's opinions. Still, you're at least as good a friend of mine as
+Atkins is. Queer HE should bob up in this matter! Why, he--but never
+mind that now. I tell you, Captain Whittaker, you come around and have
+dinner with me to-morrow night. In the meantime I'll see the chairman
+of the committee on that bill--one of the so-called 'pork' bills it
+is. Possibly from him and some other acquaintances of mine I may learn
+something. At any rate, you come to dinner.”
+
+So the invitation was accepted, and Captain Cy went back to his own
+hotel and his room. He slept but little, although it was not worry over
+the appropriation question which kept him awake. Next morning he wrote a
+note to Georgianna, giving his Washington address. With it he enclosed
+a long letter to Bos'n, telling her he should be home pretty soon, and
+that she must be a good girl and “boss the ship” during his absence.
+He sent his regards to Asaph and Bailey, but Phoebe's name he did not
+mention. Then he put in a miserable day wandering about the city. At
+eight that evening he and his Western friend sat down at a corner table
+in the big dining room of the Gloria.
+
+The captain began to ask questions as soon as the soup was served, but
+Everdean refused to answer.
+
+“No, no,” he said, “pleasure first and business afterwards; that's a
+congressional motto. I can't talk Atkins with my dinner and enjoy it.”
+
+“Can't, hey? You wouldn't be popular at our perfect boarding house back
+home. There they serve Heman hot for breakfast and dinner, and warm him
+over for supper. All right, I can wait.”
+
+The conversation wandered from Buenos Ayres to 'Frisco and back again
+until the cigars and coffee were reached. Then the congressman blew a
+fragrant ring into the air and, from behind it, looked quizzically at
+his companion.
+
+“Well,” he observed, “so far as that appropriation of yours is
+concerned--”
+
+He paused and blew a second ring. Captain Cy stroked his beard.
+
+“Um--yes,” he drawled, “now that you mention it, seems to me there was
+some talk of an appropriation.”
+
+Mr. Everdean laughed.
+
+“I've been making inquiries,” he said. “I saw the chairman of the
+committee on the pork bill. I know him well. He's a good fellow, but--”
+
+“Yes, I know. I've seen lots of politicians like that; they're all good
+fellers, but--If I was in politics I'd make a law to cut 'But' out of
+the dictionary.”
+
+“Well, this chap really is a good fellow. I asked about the thirty
+thousand dollars for your town. He asked me why I didn't go to the
+congressman from that district, and not bother him about it. I said
+perhaps I would go to the congressman later, but I came to him first.”
+
+“Sartin. Same as the feller with a sick mother-in-law stopped in at the
+undertaker's on his way to call the doctor. All right; heave ahead.”
+
+“Well, we had a rather long conversation. I discovered that the Bayport
+item was originally included in the bill, but recently had been stricken
+out.”
+
+“Yes, I see. Uncle Sam had to economize, hey? Save somethin' for a rainy
+day.”
+
+“Well, possibly. Still the bill is just as heavy. Now, Captain
+Whittaker, I don't KNOW anything about this affair, and it's not my
+business. But I've been about to-day, and I asked questions, and--I'm
+going to tell you a fairy tale. It isn't as interesting as your sea
+yarns, but--Do you like fairy stories?”
+
+“Land, yes! Tell a few myself when it's necessary. Sometimes I almost
+believe 'em. Well?”
+
+“Of course, you must remember this IS a fairy story. Let's suppose that
+once on a time--that's the way they always begin--once on a time there
+was a great man, great in his own country, who was sent abroad by his
+people to represent them among the rulers of the land. So, in order to
+typically represent them, he dressed in glad and expensive raiment, went
+about in dignity, and--”
+
+“And whiskers. Don't leave out the whiskers!”
+
+“All right--and whiskers. And it came to pass that the people whom he
+represented wished to--to--er--bring about a certain needed improvement
+in their--their beautiful and enterprising community.”
+
+“Sho! sho! how natural that sounds! You must be a mind reader.”
+
+“No. But I have to make speeches in my own community occasionally.
+Well, the people asked their great man to get the money needed for this
+improvement from the rulers of the land aforementioned. And he was
+at first all enthusiasm and upon the--the parchment scroll where
+such matters are inscribed was written the name of the beautiful and
+enterprising community, and the sum of money it asked for. And the deal
+was as good as made. Excuse the modern phraseology; my fairy lingo got
+mixed there.”
+
+“Never mind. I can get the drift just as well--maybe better.”
+
+“And the deal was as good as made. But before the vote was taken another
+chap came to the great man and said: 'Look here! I want to get an
+appropriation of, say, fifty thousand dollars, to deepen and improve a
+river down in my State'--a Southern State we'll say. 'I've been to the
+chairman of the pork bill committee, and he says it's impossible. The
+bill simply can't be loaded any further. But I find that you have an
+item in there for deepening and improving a harbor back in your own
+district. Why don't you cut that item out--shove it over until
+next year? You can easily find a satisfactory explanation for your
+constituents. AND you want to remember this: the improvement of this
+river means that the--the--well, a certain sugar-growing company--can
+get their stuff to market at a figure which will send its stock up and
+up. And you are said to own a considerable amount of that stock. So why
+not drop the harbor item and substitute my river slice? Then--' Well, I
+guess that's the end of the tale.”
+
+He paused and relit his cigar. Captain Cy thoughtfully marked with his
+fork on the tablecloth.
+
+“Hum!” he grunted. “That's a very interestin' yarn. Yes, yes! don't
+know's I ever heard a more interestin' one. I presume likely there ain't
+a mite of proof that it's true?”
+
+“Not an atom. I told you it was a fairy tale. And I mustn't be quoted in
+the matter. Honestly, the most of it is guess work, at that. But perhaps
+a 'committee of one,' dropping a hint at home, might at least arouse
+some uncomfortable questioning of a certain great man. That's about all,
+though. Proof is quite another thing.”
+
+The captain pondered. He was fully aware that the unpopularity of the
+“committee” would nullify whatever good its hinting might do.
+
+“Humph!” he grunted again. “It's one thing to smell a rat and another to
+nail its tail to the floor. But I'm mighty obliged to you, all the same.
+And I'll think it over hard. Say! I can see one thing--you don't take a
+very big shine to Heman yourself.”
+
+“Not too big--no. Do you?”
+
+“Well, I don't wake up nights and cry for him.”
+
+Everdean laughed.
+
+“That's characteristic,” he said. “You have your own way of putting
+things, Captain, and it's hard to be improved on. Atkins has never done
+anything to me. I just--I just don't like him, that's all. Father never
+liked him, either, in the old days; and yet--and it's odd, too--he was
+the means of the old gentleman's making the most of his money.”
+
+“He? Who? Not Heman?”
+
+“Yes, Heman Atkins. But, so far as that goes, father started him toward
+wealth, I suppose. At least, he was poor enough before the mine was
+sold.”
+
+“What are you talkin' about? Heman got his start tradin' over in the
+South Seas. Sellin' the Kanakas glass beads and calico for pearls and
+copra--two cupfuls of pearls for every bead. Anyhow, that's the way the
+yarn goes.”
+
+“I can't help that. He was just a common sailor who had run away from
+his ship and was gold mining in California. And when he and his partner
+struck it rich father borrowed money, headed a company, and bought them
+out. That mine was the Excelsior, and it's just as productive to-day
+as it ever was. I rather think Atkins must be very sorry he sold. I
+suppose, by right, I should be very grateful to your distinguished
+representative.”
+
+“Well, I do declare! Sho, sho! Ain't that funny now? He's never said a
+word about it at home. I don't believe there's a soul in Bayport knows
+that. We all thought 'twas South Sea tradin' that boosted Heman. And
+your own dad! I declare, this is a small world!”
+
+“It's odd father never told you about it. It's one of the old
+gentleman's pet stories. He came West in 1850, and was running a little
+shipping store in 'Frisco. He met Atkins and the other young sailor,
+his partner, before they left their ship. They were in the store, buying
+various things, and father got to know them pretty well. Then they
+ran away to the diggings--you simply couldn't keep a crew in those
+times--and he didn't see them again for a good while. Then they came
+in one day and showed him specimens from a claim they had back in the
+mountains. They were mighty good specimens, and what they said about the
+claim convinced father that they had a valuable property. So he went to
+see a few well-to-do friends of his, and the outcome was that a party
+was made up to go and inspect. The young fellows were willing to sell
+out, for it was a quartz working and they hadn't the money to carry it
+on.
+
+“The inspection showed that the claim was likely to be even better than
+they thought, so, after some bargaining, the deal was completed. They
+sold out for seventy-five thousand dollars, and it was the best trade
+father ever made. He's so proud of his judgment and foresight in making
+it that I wonder he never told you the story.”
+
+“He never did. When was this?”
+
+“In '54. What?”
+
+“I didn't speak. The date seemed kind of familiar to me, that's all.
+Seem's as if I heard it recent, but I can't remember when. Seventy-five
+thousand, hey? Well, that wan't so bad, was it? With that for a nest
+egg, no wonder Heman's managed to hatch a pretty respectable brood of
+dollars.”
+
+“Oh, the whole seventy-five wasn't his, of course. Half belonged to his
+partner. But the poor devil didn't live to enjoy it. After the articles
+were signed and before the money was paid over, he was taken sick with a
+fever and died.”
+
+“Hey? He died? With a FEVER?”
+
+“Yes. But he left a pretty good legacy to his heirs, didn't he. For
+a common sailor--or second mate; I believe that's what he
+was--thirty-seven thousand five hundred is doing well. It must have come
+as a big surprise to them. The whole sum was paid to Atkins, who--What's
+the matter with you?”
+
+Captain Cy was leaning back in his chair. He was as white as the
+tablecloth.
+
+“Are you ill?” asked the congressman anxiously. “Take some water. Shall
+I call--”
+
+The captain waved his hand.
+
+“No, no!” he stammered. “No! I'm all right. Do you--for the Lord's sake
+tell me this! What was the name of this partner that died?”
+
+Mr. Everdean looked curiously at his friend before he answered.
+
+“Sure you're not sick?” he asked. “Well, all right. The partner's name?
+Why, I've heard it often enough. It's on the deed of sale that father
+has framed in his room at home. The old gentleman is as proud of that as
+anything in the house. The name was--was--”
+
+“For God sakes,” cried Captain Cy, “don't say 'twas John Thayer! 'Cause
+if you do I shan't believe it.”
+
+“That's what it was--John Thayer. How did you guess? Did you know him? I
+remember now that he was another Down Easter, like Atkins.”
+
+The captain did not answer. He clasped his forehead with both hands and
+leaned his elbows on the table. Everdean was plainly alarmed.
+
+“I'm going to call a doctor,” he began, rising. But Captain Cy waved him
+back again.
+
+“Set still!” he ordered. “Set still, I tell you! You say the whole
+seventy-five thousand was paid to Heman, but that John Thayer signed
+the bill of sale afore he died, as half partner? And your dad's got the
+original deed and--and--he remembers the whole business?”
+
+“Yes, he's got the deed--framed. It's on record, too, of course.
+Remembers? I should say he did! He'll talk for a week on that subject,
+if you give him a chance.”
+
+The captain sprang to his feet. His chair tipped backward and fell to
+the floor. An obsequious waiter ran to right it, but Captain Cy paid no
+attention to him.
+
+“Where's my coat?” he demanded. “Where's my coat and hat?”
+
+“What ails you?” asked Everdean. “Are you going crazy?”
+
+“Goin' CRAZY? No, no! I'm goin' to California. When's the next train?”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THE TOPPLING OF A MONUMENT
+
+
+The Honorable Heman Atkins sat in the library of his Washington home,
+before a snapping log fire, reading a letter. Mr. Atkins had, as he
+would have expressed it, “served his people” in Congress for so many
+years that he had long since passed the hotel stage of living at the
+Capital. He rented a furnished house on an eminently respectable street,
+and the polished doorplate bore his name in uncompromising characters.
+
+The library furniture was solid and dignified. Its businesslike
+appearance impressed the stray excursionist from the Atkins district,
+when he or she visited the great man in whose affairs we felt such a
+personal interest. Particularly impressive and significant was a map of
+the district hanging over the congressman's desk, and an oil painting
+of the Atkins mansion at Bayport, which, with the iron dogs and urns
+conspicuous in its foreground, occupied the middle of the largest wall
+space.
+
+The cheery fire was very comforting on a night like this, for the sleet
+was driving against the windowpanes, the sidewalks were ankle deep in
+slush, and the wet, cold wind from the Potomac was whistling down the
+street. Somewhere about the house an unfastened shutter slammed in the
+gusts. Mr. Atkins should have been extremely comfortable as he sat there
+by the fire. He had spent many comfortable winters in that room. But now
+there was a frown on his face as he read the letter in his hand. It was
+from Simpson, and stated, among other things, that Cyrus Whittaker had
+been absent from Bayport for over two weeks, and that no one seemed
+to know where he had gone. “The idea seems to be that he started for
+Washington,” wrote Tad; “but if that is so, it is queer you haven't
+seen him. I am suspicious that he is up to something about that harbor
+business. I should keep my eye peeled if I was you.”
+
+Alicia, the Atkins hopeful, rustled into the room.
+
+“Papa,” she said, “I've come to kiss you good night.”
+
+Her father performed the ceremony in a perfunctory way.
+
+“All right, all right,” he said. “Now run along to bed and don't bother
+me, there's a good girl. I wish,” he added testily to the housekeeper
+who had followed Alicia into the room, “I wish you'd see to that loose
+blind. It makes me nervous. Such things as that should be attended to
+without specific orders from me.”
+
+The housekeeper promised to attend to the blind. She and the girl left
+the library. Heman reread the Simpson letter. Then he dropped it in his
+lap and sat thinking and twirling his eyeglasses at the end of their
+black cord. His thoughts seemed to be not of the pleasantest. The lines
+about his mouth had deepened during the last few months. He looked
+older.
+
+The telephone bell rang sharply. Mr. Atkins came out of his reverie
+with a start, arose and walked across the room to the wall where the
+instrument hung. It was before the days of the convenient desk 'phone.
+He took the receiver from its hook and spoke into the transmitter.
+
+“Hello!” he said. “Hello! Yes, yes! stop ringing. What is it?”
+
+The wire buzzed and purred in the storm. “Hello!” said a voice. “Hello,
+there! Is this Mr. Atkins's house?”
+
+“Yes; it is. What do you want?”
+
+“Hey? Is this where the Honorable Heman Atkins lives?”
+
+“Yes, yes, I tell you! This is Mr. Atkins speaking. What do you want?”
+
+“Oh! is that you, Heman? This is Whittaker--Cy Whittaker. Understand?”
+
+Mr. Atkins understood. Yet for an instant he did not reply. He had been
+thinking, as he sat by the fire, of certain persons and certain ugly,
+though remote, possibilities. Now, from a mysterious somewhere, one of
+those persons was speaking to him. The hand holding the receiver shook
+momentarily.
+
+“Hello! I say, Heman, do you understand? This is Whittaker talkin'.”
+
+“I--er--understand,” said the congressman, slowly. “Well, sir?”
+
+“I'm here in Washin'ton.”
+
+“I have been informed that you were in the city. Well, sir?”
+
+“Oh! knew I was here, did you? Is that so? Who told you? Tad wrote, I
+suppose, hey?”
+
+The congressman did not reply immediately. This man, whom he disliked
+more than anyone else in the world, had an irritating faculty of putting
+his finger on the truth. And the flippancy in the tone was maddening.
+Mr. Atkins was not used to flippancy.
+
+“I believe I am not called upon to disclose my source of information,”
+ he said with chilling dignity. “It appears to have been trustworthy. I
+presume you have 'phoned me concerning the appropriation matter. I do
+not recognize your right to intrude in that affair, and I shall decline
+to discuss it. Yes, sir. To my people, to those who have a right to
+question, I am and shall always be willing to explain my position. Good
+night.”
+
+“Wait! Hello! Hold on a minute. Don't get mad, Heman. I only wanted to
+say just a word. You'll let me say a word, won't you?”
+
+This was more like it. This was more nearly the tone in which Mr. Atkins
+was wont to be addressed. It was possible that the man, recognizing the
+uselessness of further opposition, desired to surrender.
+
+“I cannot,” declared the Honorable, “understand why you should wish to
+speak with me. We have very little in common, very little, I'm thankful
+to say. However, I will hear you briefly. Go on.”
+
+“Much obliged. Well, Heman, I only wanted to say that I thought maybe
+you'd better have a little talk with me. I'm here at the hotel, the
+Regent. You know where 'tis, I presume likely. I guess you'd better come
+right down and see me.”
+
+Heman gasped, actually gasped, with astonishment.
+
+“_I_ had better come and see YOU? I--! Well, sir! WELL! I am not
+accustomed--”
+
+“I know, but I think you'd better. It's dirty weather, and I've got cold
+somehow or other. I ain't feelin' quite up to the mark, so I cal'late
+I'll stay in port much as I can. You come right down. I'll be in my
+room, and the hotel folks 'll tell you where 'tis. I'll be waitin' for
+you.”
+
+Mr. Atkins breathed hard. In his present frame of mind he would have
+liked to deliver a blast into that transmitter which would cause the
+person at the other end of the line to shrivel under its heat. But he
+was a politician of long training, and he knew that such blasts were
+sometimes expensive treats. It might be well to hear what his enemy had
+to say. But as to going to see him--that was out of the question.
+
+“I do not,” he thundered, “I do not care to continue this conversation.
+If--if you wish to see me, after what has taken place between us, I
+am willing, in spite of personal repugnance, to grant you a brief
+interview. My servants will admit you here at nine o'clock to-morrow
+morning. But I tell you now, that your interference with this
+appropriation matter is as useless as it is ridiculous and impudent. It
+is of a piece with the rest of your conduct.”
+
+“All right, Heman, all right,” was the calm answer. “I don't say you've
+got to come. I only say I guess you'd better. I'm goin' back to Bayport
+tomorrer, early. And if I was you I'd come and see me to-night.”
+
+“I have no wish to see you. Nor do I care to talk with you further. That
+appropriation--”
+
+“Maybe it ain't all appropriation.”
+
+“Then I cannot understand--”
+
+“I know, but _I_ understand. I've come to understand consider'ble many
+things in the last fortni't. There! I can't holler into this machine any
+longer. I've been clear out to 'Frisco and back in eleven days, and I
+got cold in those blessed sleepin' cars. I--”
+
+The receiver fell from the congressman's hand. It was a difficult object
+to pick up again. Heman groped for it in a blind, strangely inadequate
+way. Yet he wished to recover it very much.
+
+“Wait! wait!” he shouted anxiously. “I--I--I dropped the--Are you there,
+Whittaker? Are you--Oh! yes! I didn't--Did you say--er--'Frisco?”
+
+“Yes, San Francisco, California. I've been West on a little cruise.
+Had an interestin' time. It's an interestin' place; don't you think so?
+Well, I'm sorry you can't come. Good night.”
+
+“Wait!” faltered the great man. “I--I--let me think, Cyrus. I do not
+wish to seem--er--arrogant in this matter. It is not usual for me to
+visit my constituents, but--but--I have no engagement this evening,
+and you are not well, and--Hello! are you there? Hello! Why, under the
+circumstances, I think--Yes, I will come. I'll come--er--at once.”
+
+The telephone enables one to procure a cab in a short time. Yet, to
+Heman Atkins, that cab was years in coming. He paced the library floor,
+his hand to his forehead and his brain whirling. It couldn't be! It
+must be a coincidence! He had been an idiot to display his agitation and
+surrender so weakly. And yet--and yet--
+
+The ride through the storm to the Regent Hotel gave him opportunity for
+more thought. But he gained little comfort from thinking. If it was a
+coincidence, well and good. If not--
+
+A bell boy conducted him to the Whittaker room “on the saloon deck.” It
+was a small room, very different from the Atkins library, and Captain
+Cy, in a cane-seated chair, was huddled close to the steam radiator. He
+looked far from well.
+
+“Evenin', Heman,” he said as the congressman entered. “Pretty dirty
+night, ain't it? What we'd call a gray no'theaster back home. Sit down.
+Don't mind my not gettin' up. This heatin' arrangement feels mighty
+comf'table just now. If I get too far away from it I shiver my deck
+planks loose. Take off your things.”
+
+Mr. Atkins did not remove his overcoat. His hat he tossed on the bed.
+He glanced fearfully at his companion. The latter's greeting had been
+so casual and everyday that he took courage. And the captain looked
+anything but formidable as he hugged the radiator. Perhaps things were
+not so bad as he had feared. He resolved not to seem alarmed, at all
+events.
+
+“Have a cigar, Heman?” said Captain Cy. “No? Well, all right; I will, if
+you don't mind.”
+
+He lit the cigar. The congressman cleared his throat.
+
+“Cyrus,” he said, “I am not accustomed to run at the beck and call of
+my--er--acquaintances, but, even though we have disagreed of late, even
+though to me your conduct seems quite unjustifiable, still, for the sake
+of our boyhood friendship, and, because you are not well, I--er--came.”
+
+Captain Cy coughed spasmodically, a cough that seemed to be tearing him
+to pieces. He looked at his cigar regretfully, and laid it on the top of
+the radiator.
+
+“Too bad,” he observed. “Tobacco gen'rally iles up my talkin' machinery,
+but just now it seems to make me bark like a ship's dog shut up in the
+hold. Why, yes, Heman, I see you've come. Much obliged to you.”
+
+This politeness was still more encouraging. Atkins leaned back in his
+chair and crossed his legs.
+
+“I presume,” he said, “that you wish to ask concerning the
+appropriation. I regret--”
+
+“You needn't. I guess we'll get the appropriation.”
+
+Heman's condescension vanished. He leaned forward and uncrossed his
+legs.
+
+“Indeed?” he said slowly, his eyes fixed on the captain's placid face.
+
+“Yes--indeed.”
+
+“Whittaker, what are you talking about? Do you suppose that I have been
+the representative of my people in Congress all these years without
+knowing whereof I speak? They left the matter in my hands, and your
+interference--”
+
+“I ain't goin' to interfere. I'M goin' to leave it in your hands, too.
+And I cal'late you'll be able to find a way to get it. Um--hum, I guess
+likely you will.”
+
+The visitor rose to his feet. The time had come for another blast from
+Olympus. He raised the mighty right arm. But Captain Cy spoke first.
+
+“Sit down, Heman,” said the captain quietly. “Sit down. This ain't town
+meetin'. Never mind the appropriation now. There's other matters to be
+talked about first. Sit down, I tell you.”
+
+Mr. Atkins was purple in the face, but he sat down. The captain coughed
+again.
+
+“Heman,” he began when the spasm was over, “I asked you to come here
+to-night for--well, blessed if I know exactly. It didn't make much
+difference to me whether you came or not.”
+
+“Then, sir, I must say that, of all the impudent--”
+
+“S-s-h-h! for the land sakes! Speechmakin' must be as bad as the rum
+habit, when a feller's got it chronic as you have. No, it didn't make
+much difference to me whether you came or not. But, honest, you've got
+to be a kind of Bunker Hill monument to the folks back home. They kneel
+down at your foundations and look up at you, and tell each other how
+many foot high you are, and what it cost to build you, and how you stand
+for patriotism and purity, till--well, _I_ couldn't see you tumble down
+without givin' you a chance. I couldn't; 'twould be like blowin' up a
+church.”
+
+The purple had left the Atkins face, but the speechmaking habit is not
+likely to be broken.
+
+“Cyrus Whittaker,” he stammered, “have you been drinking? Your language
+to me is abominable. Why I permit myself to remain here and listen to
+such--”
+
+“If you'll keep still I'll tell you why. And, if I was you, I wouldn't
+be too anxious to find out. This everlastin' cold don't make me over 'n'
+above good-tempered, and when I think of what you've done to that little
+girl, or what you tried to do, I have to hold myself down tight, TIGHT,
+and don't you forget it! Now, you keep quiet and listen. It'll be best
+for you, Heman. Your cards ain't under the table any longer. I've seen
+your hand, and I know why you've been playin' it. I know the whole game.
+I've been West, and Everdean and I have had a talk.”
+
+Mr. Atkins had again risen from the chair. Now he fell heavily back
+into it. His lips moved as if he meant to speak, but he did not. At
+the mention of the Everdean name he made a queer, choking sound in his
+throat.
+
+“I know the whole business, Heman,” went on the captain. “I know why
+you was so knocked over when you learned who Bos'n was, the night of
+the party. I know why you took up with that blackguard, Thomas, and why
+you've spent your good money hirin' lawyers for him. I know about the
+mine. I know the whole thing from first to last. Shall I tell you? Do
+you want to hear it?”
+
+The great man did not answer. A drop of perspiration shone on his high
+forehead, and the veins of his big, white hands stood out as he clutched
+the arms of his chair. The monument was tottering on its base.
+
+“It's a dirty mess, the whole of it,” continued Captain Cy. “And yet, I
+can see--I suppose I can see some excuse for you at the beginnin'. When
+old man Everdean and his crowd bought you and John Thayer out, 'way
+back there in '54, after John died, and all the money was put into your
+hands, I cal'late you was honest then. I wouldn't wonder if you MEANT
+to hand over the thirty-seven thousand five hundred dollars to your
+partner's widow. But 'twas harder and more risky to send money East in
+them days than 'tis now, and so you waited, thinkin' maybe that you'd
+fetch it to Emily when you come yourself. But you didn't come home for
+some years; you went tradin' down along the Feejees and around that way.
+That's how I reasoned it out these last few days on the train. I give
+you credit for bein' honest first along.
+
+“But never mind whether you was or not, you haven't been since. You
+never paid over a cent of that poor feller's money--honest money, that
+belonged to his heirs, and belongs to 'em now. You've hung onto it,
+stole it, used it for yours. And Emily worked and scratched for a livin'
+and died poor. And Mary, she died, after bein' abused and deserted by
+that cussed husband of hers. And you thought you was safe, I cal'late.
+And then Bos'n turns up right in your own town, right acrost the road
+from you! By the big dipper! it's enough to make a feller believe that
+the Almighty does take a hand in straightenin' out such things, when us
+humans bungle 'em--it is so!
+
+“Course I ain't sure, Heman, what you meant to do when you found that
+the child you'd stole that money from was goin' to be under your face
+and eyes till you or she died. I cal'late you was afraid I'd find
+somethin' out, wan't you? I presume likely you thought that I, not
+havin' quite the reverence for you that the rest of the Bayporters
+have, might be sharp enough or lucky enough to smell a rat. Perhaps you
+suspicioned that I knew the Everdeans. Anyhow, you wanted to get the
+child as fur out of your sight and out of my hands as you could--ain't
+that so? And when her dad turned up, you thought you saw your chance.
+Heman, you answer me this: Ain't it part of your bargain with Thomas
+that when he gets his little girl, he shall take her and clear out, away
+off somewheres, for good? Ain't it, now--what?”
+
+The monument was swaying, was swinging from side to side, but it did not
+quite fall--not then. The congressman's cheeks hung flabby, his forehead
+was wet, and he shook from head to foot; but he clenched his jaws and
+made one last attempt at defiance.
+
+“I--I don't know what you mean,” he declared. “You--you seem to be
+accusing me of something. Of stealing, I believe. Do you understand who
+I am? I have some influence and reputation, and it is dangerous to--to
+try to frighten me. Proofs are required in law, and--”
+
+“S-s-h-h! You know I've got the proofs. They were easy enough to get,
+once I happened on the track of 'em. Lord sakes, Heman, I ain't a fool!
+What's the use of your pretendin' to be one? There's the deed out in
+'Frisco, with yours and John's name on it. There's the records to prove
+the sale. There's the receipt for the seventy-five thousand signed by
+you, on behalf of yourself and your partner's widow. There's old man
+Everdean alive and competent to testify. There's John Thayer's will on
+file over to Orham. Proofs! Why, you THIEF! if it's proofs you want,
+I've got enough to send you to state's prison for the rest of your life.
+Don't you dare say 'proofs' to me again! Heman Atkins, you owe me,
+as Bos'n's guardian, thirty-seven thousand five hundred dollars, with
+interest since 1854. What you goin' to do about it?”
+
+Here was one ray, a feeble ray, of light.
+
+“You're not her guardian,” cried Atkins. “The courts have thrown you
+out. And your appeal won't stand, either. If any money is due, it
+belongs to her father. She isn't of age! No, sir! her father--”
+
+Captain Cy's patience had been giving way. Now he lost it altogether. He
+strode across the room and shook his forefinger in his victim's face.
+
+“So!” he cried. “That's your tack, is it? By the big dipper! You GO to
+her father--just you go to him and tell him! Just hint to him that you
+owe his daughter thirty-odd thousand dollars, and see what he'll
+do. Good heavens above! he was ready to sell her out to me for fifty
+dollars' wuth of sand bank in Orham. Almost ready, he was, till you
+offered a higher price to him to fight. Why, he'll have your hide nailed
+up on the barn door! If you don't pay him every red copper, down on
+the nail, he'll wring you dry. And then he'll blackmail you forever and
+ever, amen! Unless, of course, _I_ go home and stop the blackmail by
+printing my story in the Breeze. I've a precious good mind to do it. By
+the Almighty, I WILL do it! unless you come off that high horse of yours
+and talk like a man.”
+
+And then the monument fell, fell prostrate, with a sickly, pitiful
+crash. If we of Bayport could have seen our congressman then! The great
+man, great no longer, broke down completely. He cried like a baby. It
+was all true--all true. He had not meant to steal, at first. He had been
+led into using the money in his business. Then he had meant to send it
+to the heirs, but he didn't know their whereabouts. Captain Cy smiled
+at this excuse. And now he couldn't pay--he COULDN'T. He had hardly that
+sum in the world. He had lost money in stocks, his property in the South
+had gone to the bad! He would be ruined. He would have to go to prison.
+He was getting to be an old man. And there was Alicia, his daughter!
+Think of her! Think of the disgrace! And so on, over and over, with
+the one recurring burden--what was the captain going to do? what was
+he going to do? It was a miserable, dreadful exhibition, and Captain Cy
+could feel no pride in his triumph.
+
+“There! there!” he said at last. “Stop it, man; stop it, for goodness
+sakes! Pull yourself together. I guess we can fix it up somehow. I ain't
+goin' to be too hard on you. If it wan't for your meanness in bein'
+willin' to let Bos'n suffer her life long with that drunken beast of a
+dad of hers, I'd feel almost like tellin' you to get up and forget it.
+But THAT'S got to be stopped. Now, you listen to me.”
+
+Heman listened. He was on his knees beside the bed, his face buried in
+his arms, and his gray hair, the leonine Atkins hair, which he was wont
+to toss backward in the heated periods of his eloquence, tumbled and
+draggled. Captain Cy looked down at him.
+
+“This whole business about Bos'n must be stopped,” he said, “and stopped
+right off. You tell your lawyers to drop the case. Her dad is only
+hangin' around because you pay him to. He don't want her; he don't care
+what becomes of her. If you pay him enough, he'll go, won't he? and not
+come back?”
+
+The congressman raised his head.
+
+“Why, yes,” he faltered; “I think he will. Yes, I think I could arrange
+that. But, Cyrus--”
+
+The captain held up his hand.
+
+“I intend to look out for Bos'n,” he said. “She cares for me more'n
+anyone else in the world. She's as much to me as my own child ever
+could be, and I'll see that she is happy and provided for. I'm religious
+enough to believe she was sent to me, and I intend to stick to my trust.
+As for the money--”
+
+“Yes, yes! The money?”
+
+“Well, I won't be too hard on you that way, either. We'll talk that over
+later on. Maybe we can arrange for you to pay it a little at a time. You
+can sign a paper showin' that you owe it, and we'll fix the payin' to
+suit all hands. 'Tain't as if the child was in want. I've got some money
+of my own, and what's mine's hers. I think we needn't worry about the
+money part.”
+
+“God bless you, Cyrus! I--”
+
+“Yes, all right. I'm sure your askin' for the blessin' 'll be a great
+help. Now, you do your part, and I'll do mine. No one knows of this
+business but me. I didn't tell Everdean a word. He don't know why I
+hustled out there and back, nor why I asked so many questions. And he
+ain't the kind to pry into what don't concern him. So you're pretty
+safe, I cal'late. Now, if you don't mind, I wish you'd run along home.
+I'm--I'm used up, sort of.”
+
+Mr. Atkins arose from his knees. Even then, broken as he was--he looked
+ten years older than when he entered the room--he could hardly believe
+what he had just heard.
+
+“You mean,” he faltered, “Cyrus, do you mean that--that you're not going
+to reveal this--this--”
+
+“That I'm not goin' to tell on you? Yup; that's what I mean. You get rid
+of Thomas and squelch that law case, and I'll keep mum. You can trust me
+for that.”
+
+“But--but, Cyrus, the people at home? Your story in the Breeze? You're
+not--”
+
+“No, they needn't know, either. It'll be between you and me.”
+
+“God bless you! I'll never forget--”
+
+“That's right. You mustn't. Forgettin' is the one thing you mustn't do.
+And, see here, you're boss of the political fleet in Bayport; you steer
+the school committee now. Phoebe Dawes ain't too popular with that
+committee; I'd see that she was popularized.”
+
+“Yes, yes; she shall be. She shall not be disturbed. Is there anything
+else I can do?”
+
+“Why, yes, I guess there is. Speakin' of popularity made me think of it.
+That harbor appropriation had better go through.”
+
+A very faint tinge of color came into the congressman's chalky face. He
+hesitated in his reply.
+
+“I--I don't know about that, Cyrus,” he said. “The bill will probably be
+voted on in a few days. It is made up and--”
+
+“Then I'd strain a p'int and make it over. I'd work real hard on it. I'm
+sorry about that sugar river, but I cal'late Bayport 'll have to come
+first. Yes, it'll have to, Heman; it sartin will.”
+
+The reference to the “sugar river” was the final straw. Evidently this
+man knew everything.
+
+“I--I'll try my best,” affirmed Heman. “Thank you, Cyrus. You have been
+more merciful than I had a right to expect.”
+
+“Yes, I guess I have. Why do I do it?” He smiled and shook his head.
+“Well, I don't know. For two reasons, maybe. First, I'd hate to be
+responsible for tippin' over such a sky-towerin' idol as you've been to
+make ruins for Angie Phinney and the other blackbirds to peck at and caw
+over. And second--well, it does sound presumin', don't it, but I kind
+of pity you. Say, Heman,” he added with a chuckle, “that's a kind of
+distinction, in a way, ain't it? A good many folks have hurrahed over
+you and worshipped you--some of 'em, I guess likely, have envied you;
+but, by the big dipper! I do believe I'm the only one in this round
+world that ever PITIED you. Good-by. The elevator's right down the
+hall.”
+
+It required some resolution for the Honorable Atkins to walk down that
+corridor and press the elevator button. But he did it, somehow. A guest
+came out of one of the rooms and approached him as he stood there. It
+was a man he knew. Heman squared his shoulders and set every nerve and
+muscle.
+
+“Good evening, Mr. Atkins,” said the man. “A miserable night, isn't it?”
+
+“Miserable, indeed,” replied the congressman. The strength in his voice
+surprised him. The man passed on. Heman descended in the elevator,
+walked steadily through the crowded lobby and out to the curb where
+his cab was waiting. The driver noticed nothing strange in his fare's
+appearance. He noticed nothing strange when the Atkins residence was
+reached and its tenant mounted the stone steps and opened the door
+with his latchkey. But, if he had seen the dignified form collapse in a
+library chair and moan and rock back and forth until the morning hours,
+he would have wondered very much indeed.
+
+
+Meanwhile Captain Cy, coughing and shivering by the radiator, had been
+summoned from that warm haven by a knock at his door. A bell boy stood
+at the threshold, holding a brown envelope in his hand.
+
+“The clerk sent this up to you, sir,” he said. “It came a week ago. When
+you went away, you didn't leave any address, and whatever letters came
+for you were sent back to Bayport, Massachusetts. The clerk says you
+registered from there, sir. But he kept this telegram. It was in your
+box, and the day clerk forgot to give it to you this afternoon.”
+
+The captain tore open the envelope. The telegram was from his lawyer,
+Mr. Peabody. It was dated a week before, and read as follows:
+
+
+    “Come home at once.  Important.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+DIVIDED HONORS
+
+
+The blizzard began that night. Bayport has a generous allowance of
+storms and gales during a winter, although, as a usual thing, there is
+more rain than snow and more wind than either. But we can count with
+certainty on at least one blizzard between November and April, and about
+the time when Captain Cy, feverish and ill, the delayed telegram in
+his pocket and a great fear in his heart, boarded the sleeper of the
+East-bound train at Washington, snow was beginning to fall in our
+village.
+
+Next morning, when Georgianna came downstairs to prepare Bos'n's
+breakfast--the housekeeper had ceased to “go home nights” since the
+captain's absence--the world outside was a tumbled, driving whirl of
+white. The woodshed and barn, dimly seen through the smother, were but
+gray shapes, emerging now and then only to be wiped from the vision as
+by a great flapping cloth wielded by the mighty hand of the wind. The
+old house shook in the blasts, the windowpanes rattled as if handfuls of
+small shot were being thrown against them, and the carpet on the floor
+of the dining room puffed up in miniature billows.
+
+School was out of the question, and Bos'n, her breakfast eaten, prepared
+to put in a cozy day with her dolls and Christmas playthings.
+
+“When DO you s'pose Uncle Cyrus will get home?” she asked of the
+housekeeper. She had asked the same thing at least three times a
+day during the fortnight, and Georgianna's answer was always just as
+unsatisfactory:
+
+“I don't know, dearie, I'm sure. He'll be here pretty soon, though,
+don't you fret.”
+
+“Oh, I ain't going to fret. I know he'll come. He said he would, and
+Uncle Cy always does what he says he will.”
+
+About twelve Asaph made his appearance, a white statue.
+
+“Godfrey scissors!” he panted, shaking his snow-plastered cap over the
+coal hod. “Say, this is one of 'em, ain't it? Don't know's I ever see
+more of a one. Drift out by the front fence pretty nigh up to my waist.
+This 'll be a nasty night along the Orham beach. The lifesavers 'll have
+their hands full. Whew! I'm about tuckered out.”
+
+“Been to the post office?” asked Georgianna in a low tone.
+
+“Yup. I been there. Mornin' mail just this minute sorted. Train's two
+hours late. Gabe says more'n likely the evenin' train won't be able to
+get through at all, if this keeps up.”
+
+“Was there anything from--”
+
+Mr. Tidditt glanced at Bos'n and shook his head.
+
+“Not a word,” he said. “Funny, ain't it? It don't seem a bit like him.
+And he can't be to Washin'ton, because all them letters came back. I--I
+swan to man, I'm beginnin' to get worried.”
+
+“Worried? I'm pretty nigh crazy! What does Phoebe Dawes say?”
+
+“She don't say much. It's pretty tough, when everything else is workin'
+out so fine, thanks to her, to have this happen. No, she don't say much,
+but she acts pretty solemn.”
+
+“Say, Mr. Tidditt?”
+
+“Yes, what is it?”
+
+“You don't s'pose anything that happened betwixt her and Cap'n Whittaker
+that afternoon is responsible for--for his stayin' away so, do you? You
+know what he told me to tell her--about her not comin' here?”
+
+Asaph fidgeted with the wet cap.
+
+“Aw, that ain't nothin',” he stammered. “That is, I hope it ain't. I did
+say somethin' to him that--but Phoebe understands. She's a smart woman.”
+
+“You haven't told them boardin' house tattletales about the--Emmie, you
+go fetch me a card of matches from the kitchen, won't you--of what's
+been found out about that Thomas thing?”
+
+“Course I ain't. Didn't Peabody say not to tell a soul till we was sure?
+S'pose I'd tell Keturah and Angie? Might's well paint it on a sign and
+be done with it. No, no! I've kept mum and you do the same. Well, I
+must be goin'. Hope to goodness we hear some good news from Whit by
+to-morrer.”
+
+But when to-morrow came news of any kind was unobtainable. No trains
+could get through, and the telephone and telegraph wires were out of
+commission, owing to the great storm. Bayport was buried under a white
+coverlet, three feet thick on a level, which shone in the winter sun
+as if powdered with diamond dust. The street-shoveling brigade, meaning
+most of the active male citizens, was busy with plows and shovels.
+Simmons's was deserted in the evenings, for most of the regular habitues
+went to bed after supper, tired out.
+
+Two days of this. Then Gabe Lumley, his depot wagon replaced by a
+sleigh, drove the panting Daniel into the yard of the Cy Whittaker
+place. Gabe was much excited. He had news of importance to communicate
+and was puffed up in consequence.
+
+“The wire's all right again, Georgianna,” he said to the housekeeper,
+who had hurried to the door to meet him. “Fust message just come
+through. Guess who it's for?”
+
+“Stop your foolishness, Gabe Lumley!” ordered Miss Taylor. “Hand over
+that telegram this minute. Don't you stop to talk! Hand it over!”
+
+Gabe didn't intend to be “corked” thus peremptorily.
+
+“It's pretty important news, Georgianna,” he declared. “Kind of bad
+news, too. I think I'd ought to prepare you for it, sort of. When Cap'n
+Obed Pepper died, I--”
+
+“DIED! For the land sakes! WHAT are you sayin'? Give me that, you
+foolhead! Give it to me!”
+
+She snatched the telegram from him and tore it open. It was not as bad
+as might have been, but it was bad enough. Lawyer Peabody wired that
+Captain Cyrus Whittaker was at his home in Ostable, sick in bed, and
+threatened with pneumonia.
+
+
+
+Captain Cy, hurrying homeward in response to the attorney's former
+telegram, had reached Boston the day of the blizzard. He had taken the
+train for Bayport that afternoon. The train had reached Ostable after
+nine o'clock that night, but could get no farther. The captain, burning
+with fever and torn by chills, had wallowed through the drifts to his
+lawyer's home and collapsed on his doorstep. Now he was very ill and, at
+times, delirious.
+
+For two weeks he lay, fighting off the threatened attack of pneumonia.
+But he won the fight, and, at last, word came to the anxious ones at
+Bayport that he was past the danger point and would pull through. There
+was rejoicing at the Cy Whittaker place. The Board of Strategy came and
+performed an impromptu war dance around the dining-room table.
+
+“Whe-e-e!” shouted Bailey Bangs, tossing Bos'n above his head. “Your
+Uncle Cy's weathered the Horn and is bound for clear water now. Three
+cheers for our side! Won't we give him a reception when we get him back
+here!”
+
+“Won't we?” crowed Asaph. “Well, I just guess we will! You ought to hear
+Angie and the rest of 'em chant hymns of glory about him. A body'd think
+they always knew he was the salt of the earth. Maybe I don't rub it in a
+little, hey? Oh, no, maybe not!”
+
+“And Heman!” chimed in Mr. Bangs. “And Heman! Would you ever believe
+HE'D change so all of a sudden? Bully old Whit! I can mention his name
+now without Ketury's landin' onto me like a snowslide. Whee! I say,
+wh-e-e-e!”
+
+He continued to say it; and Georgianna and Asaph said what amounted to
+the same thing. A change had come over our Bayport social atmosphere,
+a marvelous change. And at Simmons's and--more wonderful still--at
+Tad Simpson's barber' shop, plans were being made and perfected for
+proceedings in which Cyrus Whittaker was to play the most prominent
+part.
+
+Meanwhile the convalescence went on at a rapid rate. As soon as he was
+permitted to talk, Captain Cy began to question his lawyer. How
+about the appeal? Had Atkins done anything further? The answers were
+satisfactory. The case had been dropped: the Honorable Heman had
+announced its withdrawal. He had said that he had changed his mind and
+should not continue to espouse the Thomas cause. In fact, he seemed to
+have whirled completely about on his pedestal and, like a compass, now
+pointed only in one direction--toward his “boyhood friend” and present
+neighbor, Cyrus Whittaker.
+
+“It's perfectly astounding,” commented Peabody. “What in the world,
+captain, did you do to him while you were in Washington?”
+
+“Oh! nothin' much,” was the rather disinterested answer. “Him and me
+had a talk, and he saw the error of his ways, I cal'late. How's Bos'n
+to-day? Did you give her my love when you 'phoned?”
+
+“So far as the case is concerned,” went on the lawyer, “I think
+we should have won that, anyway. It's a curious thing. Thomas has
+disappeared. How he got word, or who he got it from, _I_ don't know; but
+he must have, and he's gone somewhere, no one knows where. And yet I'm
+not certain that we were on the right trail. It seemed certain a week
+ago, but now--”
+
+The captain had not been listening. He was thinking. Thomas had gone,
+had he! Good! Heman was living up to his promises. And Bos'n, God bless
+her, was free from that danger.
+
+“Have you heard from Emmie, I asked you?” he repeated.
+
+He would not listen to anything further concerning Thomas, either then
+or later. He was sick of the whole business, he declared, and now that
+everything was all right, didn't wish to talk about it again. He asked
+nothing about the appropriation, and the lawyer, acting under strict
+orders, did not mention it.
+
+Only once did Captain Cy inquire concerning a person in his home town
+who was not a member of his household.
+
+“How is--er--how's the teacher?” he inquired one morning.
+
+“How's who?”
+
+“Why--Phoebe Dawes, the school-teacher. Smart, is she?”
+
+“Yes, indeed! Why, she has been the most--”
+
+The doctor came in just then and the interview terminated. It was not
+resumed, because that afternoon Mr. Peabody started for Boston on a
+business trip, to be gone some time.
+
+And at last came the great day, the day when Captain Cy was to be taken
+home. He was up and about, had been out for several short walks, and was
+very nearly his own self again. He was in good spirits, too, at times,
+but had fits of seeming depression which, under the circumstances, were
+unexplainable. The doctor thought they were due to his recent illness
+and forbade questioning.
+
+The original plan had been for the captain to go to Bayport in the
+train, but the morning set for his departure was such a beautiful
+one that Mr. Peabody, who had the day before returned from the city,
+suggested driving over. So the open carriage, drawn by the Peabody
+“span,” was brought around to the front steps, and the captain, bundled
+up until, as he said, he felt like a wharf rat inside a cotton bale,
+emerged from the house which had sheltered him for a weary month and
+climbed to the back seat. The attorney got in beside him.
+
+“All ashore that's goin' ashore,” observed Captain Cy. Then to the
+driver, who stood by the horses' heads, he added: “Stand by to get ship
+under way, commodore. I'm homeward bound, and there's a little messmate
+of mine waitin' on the dock already, I wouldn't wonder. So don't hang
+around these waters no longer'n you can help.”
+
+But Mr. Peabody smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder.
+
+“Just a minute, captain,” he said. “We've got another passenger. She
+came to the house last evening, but Dr. Cole thought this would be an
+exciting day for you, and you must sleep in preparation for it. So we
+kept her in the background. It was something of a job but--Hurrah! here
+she is!”
+
+Mrs. Peabody, the lawyer's wife, opened the front door. She was
+laughing. The next moment a small figure shot past her, down the steps,
+and into the carriage like a red-hooded bombshell.
+
+“Uncle Cyrus!” she screamed joyously. “Uncle Cyrus, it's me! Here I am!”
+
+And Captain Cy, springing up and shedding wraps and robes, received the
+bombshell with open arms and hugged it tight.
+
+“Bos'n!” he shouted. “By the big dipper! BOS'N! Why, you
+little--you--you--”
+
+That was a wonderful ride. Emily sat in the captain's lap--he positively
+refused to let her sit beside him on the seat, although Peabody urged
+it, fearing the child might tire him--and her tongue rattled like a
+sewing machine. She had a thousand things to tell, about her school,
+about Georgianna, about her dolls, about Lonesome, the cat, and how many
+mice he had caught, about the big snowstorm.
+
+“Georgianna wanted me to stay at home and wait for you, Uncle Cy,” she
+said, “but I teased and teased and finally they said I could come over.
+I came yesterday on the train. Mr. Tidditt went with me to the depot.
+Mrs. Peabody let me peek into your room last night and I saw you eating
+supper. You didn't know I was there, did you?”
+
+“You bet I didn't! There'd have been a mutiny right then if I'd caught
+sight of you. You little sculpin! Playin' it on your Uncle Cy, was you?
+I didn't know you could keep a secret so well.”
+
+“Oh, yes I can! Why, I know an ever so much bigger secret, too. It
+is--Why! I 'most forgot. You just wait.”
+
+The captain laughingly begged her to divulge the big secret, but she
+shook her small head and refused. The horses trotted on at a lively
+pace, and the miles separating Ostable and Bayport were subtracted one
+by one. It was magnificent winter weather. The snow had disappeared from
+the road, except in widely separated spots, but the big drifts still
+heaped the fields and shone and sparkled in the sunshine. Against their
+whiteness the pitch pines and cedars stood darkly green and the skeleton
+scrub oaks and bushes cast delicate blue-penciled shadows. The bay,
+seen over the flooded, frozen salt meadows and distant dunes, was in its
+winter dress of the deepest sapphire, trimmed with whitecaps and fringed
+with stranded ice cakes. There was a snap and tang in the breeze which
+braced one like a tonic. The party in the carriage was a gay one.
+
+“Getting tired, captain?” asked Peabody.
+
+“Who? Me? Well, I guess not. 'Most home, Bos'n. There's the salt works
+ahead there.”
+
+They passed the abandoned salt works, the crumbling ruins of a dead
+industry, and the boundary stone, now half hidden in a drift, marking
+the beginning of Bayport township. Then, from the pine grove at the
+curve farther on, appeared two capped and coated figures, performing a
+crazy fandango.
+
+“Who's them two lunatics,” inquired Captain Cy, “whoopin' and carryin'
+on in the middle of the road? Has anybody up this way had a jug come by
+express or--Hey! WHAT? Why, you old idiots you! COME here and let me get
+a hold of you!”
+
+The Board of Strategy swooped down upon the carriage like Trumet
+mosquitoes on a summer boarder. They swarmed into the vehicle, Bailey on
+the front seat and Asaph in the rear, where, somehow or other, they made
+room for him. There were handshakings and thumps on the back.
+
+“What you doin' 'way up here in the west end of nowhere?” demanded
+Captain Cy. “By the big dipper, I'm glad to see you! How'd you get
+here?”
+
+“Walked,” cackled Bailey. “Frogged it all the way. Soon's Mrs. Peabody
+wired you was goin' to ride, me and Ase started to meet you. Wan't you
+surprised?”
+
+“We wanted to be the fust to say howdy, old man,” explained Asaph.
+“Wanted to welcome you back, you know.”
+
+The captain was immensely pleased.
+
+“Well, I'm glad I've got so much popularity, anyhow,” he said. “Guess
+'twill be different when I get down street, hey? Don't cal'late Tad and
+Angie 'll shed the joyous tear over me. Never mind; long's my friends
+are glad I don't care about the rest.”
+
+The Board looked at each other.
+
+“Tad?” repeated Bailey. “And Angie? What you talkin' about? Why,
+they--Ugh!”
+
+The last exclamation was the result of a tremendous dig in the ribs from
+the Tidditt fist. Asaph, who had leaned forward to administer it,
+was frowning and shaking his head. Mr. Bangs relapsed into a grinning
+silence.
+
+West Bayport seemed to be deserted. At one or two houses, however,
+feminine heads appeared at the windows. One old lady shook a calico
+apron at the carriage. A child beside her cried: “Hurrah!”
+
+“Aunt Hepsy h'istin' colors by mistake,” laughed the captain. “She
+ain't got her specs, I guess, and thinks I'm Heman. That comes of ridin'
+astern of a span, Peabody.”
+
+But as they drew near the Center flags were flying from front-yard
+poles. Some of the houses were decorated.
+
+“What in the world--” began Captain Cy. “Land sakes! look at the
+schoolhouse. And Simmons's! And--and Simpson's!”
+
+The schoolhouse flag was flapping in the wind. The scarred wooden
+pillars of its portico were hidden with bunting. Simmons's front
+displayed a row of little banners, each bearing a letter--the letters
+spelled “Welcome Home.” Tad's barber shop was more or less artistically
+wreathed in colored tissue paper. There, too, a flag was draped over the
+front door. Yet not a single person was in sight.
+
+“For goodness' sake!” cried the bewildered captain. “What's all this
+mean? And where is everybody. Have all hands--”
+
+He stopped in the middle of the sentence. They were at the foot of
+Whittaker's Hill. Its top, between the Atkins's gate and the Whittaker
+fence, was black with people. Children pranced about the outskirts of
+the crowd. A shout came down the wind. The horses, not in the least
+fatigued by their long canter, trotted up the slope. The shouting grew
+louder. A wave of youngsters came racing to meet the equipage.
+
+“What--what in time?” gasped Captain Cy. “What's up? I--”
+
+And then the town clerk seized him by the arm. Peabody shook his other
+hand. Bos'n threw her arms about his neck. Bailey stood up and waved his
+hat.
+
+“It's you, you old critter!” whooped Asaph. “It's YOU, d'you
+understand?”
+
+“The appropriation has gone through,” explained the lawyer, “and this is
+the celebration in consequence. And you are the star attraction because,
+you see, everyone knows you are responsible for it.”
+
+“That's what!” howled the excited Bangs. “And we're goin' to show you
+what we think of you for doin' it. We've been plannin' this for over a
+fortni't.”
+
+“And I knew it all the time,” squealed Bos'n, “and I didn't tell a word,
+did I?”
+
+“Three cheers for Captain Whittaker!” bellowed a person in the crowd.
+This person--wonder of wonders!--was Tad Simpson.
+
+The cheering was, considering the size of the crowd, tremendous.
+Bewildered and amazed, Captain Cy was assisted from the carriage and
+escorted to his front door. Amidst the handkerchief-waving, applauding
+people he saw Keturah Bangs and Alpheus Smalley and Angeline Phinney and
+Captain Salters--even Alonzo Snow, his recent opponent in town meeting.
+Josiah Dimick was there, too, apparently having a fit.
+
+On the doorstep stood Georgianna and--and--yes, it was true--beside her,
+grandly extending a welcoming hand, the majestic form of the Honorable
+Heman Atkins. Some one else was there also, some one who hurriedly
+slipped back into the crowd as the owner of the Cy Whittaker place came
+up the path between the hedges.
+
+Mr. Atkins shook the captain's hand and then, turning toward the people,
+held up his own for silence. To all outward appearance, he was still the
+great Heman, our district idol, philanthropist, and leader. His silk hat
+glistened as of old, his chest swelled in the old manner, his whiskers
+were just as dignified and awe-inspiring. For an instant, as he met
+the captain's eye, his own faltered and fell, and there was a pleading
+expression in his face, the lines of which had deepened just a little.
+But only for an instant; then he began to speak.
+
+“Cyrus,” he said, “it is my pleasant duty, on behalf of your neighbors
+and friends here assembled, to welcome you to your--er--ancestral home
+after your trying illness. I do it heartily, sincerely, gladly. And
+it is the more pleasing to me to perform this duty, because, as I have
+explained publicly to my fellow-townspeople, all disagreement between us
+is ended. I was wrong--again I publicly admit it. A scheming blackleg,
+posing in the guise of a loving father, imposed upon me. I am sorry for
+the trouble I have caused you. Of you and of the little girl with you I
+ask pardon--I entreat forgiveness.”
+
+He paused. Captain Cy, the shadow of a smile at the corner of his mouth,
+nodded, and said briefly:
+
+“All right, Heman. I forgive you.” Few heard him: the majority were
+applauding the congressman. Sylvanus Cahoon, whispering in the ear
+of “Uncle Bedny,” expressed as his opinion that “that was about
+as magnaminious a thing as ever I heard said. Yes, sir!
+mag-na-min-ious--that's what _I_ call it.”
+
+“But,” continued the great Atkins, “I have said all this to you before.
+What I have to say now--what I left my duties in Washington expressly to
+come here and say--is that Bayport thanks you, _I_ thank you, for your
+tremendous assistance in obtaining the appropriation which is to make
+our harbor a busy port where our gallant fishing fleet may ride at
+anchor and unload its catch, instead of transferring it in dories as
+heretofore. Friends, I have already told you how this man”--laying
+a hand on the captain's shoulder--“came to the Capital and used his
+influence among his acquaintances in high places, with the result that
+the thirty thousand dollars, which I had despaired of getting, was added
+to the bill. I had the pleasure of voting for that bill. It passed. I am
+proud of that vote.”
+
+Tremendous applause. Then some one called for three cheers for Mr.
+Atkins. They were given. But the recipient merely bowed.
+
+“No, no,” he said deprecatingly. “No, no! not for me, my friends, much
+as I appreciate your gratitude. My days of public service are nearly
+at an end. As I have intimated to some of you already, I am seriously
+considering retiring from political life in the near future. But that
+is irrelevant; it is not material at present. To-day we meet, not to say
+farewell to the setting, but to greet the rising sun. _I_ call for three
+cheers for our committee of one--Captain Cyrus Whittaker.”
+
+When the uproar had at last subsided, there were demands for a speech
+from Captain Cy. But the captain, facing them, his arms about the
+delighted Bos'n, positively declined to orate.
+
+“I--I'm ever so much obliged to you, folks,” he stammered. “I am so. But
+you'll have to excuse me from speechmaking. They--they didn't teach it
+afore the mast, where I went to college. Thank you, just the same. And
+do come and see me, everybody. Me and this little girl,” drawing Emily
+nearer to him, “will be real glad to have you.”
+
+After the handshaking and congratulating were over, the crowd dispersed.
+It was a great occasion; all agreed to that, but the majority considered
+it a divided triumph. The captain had done a lot for the town, of
+course, but the Honorable Atkins had made another splendid impression by
+his address of welcome. Most people thought it as fine as his memorable
+effort at town meeting. Unlike that one, however, in this instance it
+is safe to say that none, not even the adoring and praise-chanting Miss
+Phinney, derived quite the enjoyment from the congressman's speech that
+Captain Cy did. It tickled his sense of humor.
+
+“Ase,” he observed irrelevantly when the five--Tidditt, Georgianna,
+Bailey, Bos'n, and himself were at last alone again in the sitting room,
+“it DON'T pay to tip over a monument, does it--not out in public, I
+mean. You wouldn't want to see me blow up Bunker Hill, would you?”
+
+“Blow up Bunker Hill!” repeated Asaph in alarmed amazement. “Godfrey
+scissors! I believe you're goin' loony. This day's been too much for
+you. What are you talkin' about?”
+
+“Oh, nothin',” with a quiet chuckle. “I was thinkin' out loud, that's
+all. Did you ever notice them imitation stone pillars on Heman's house?
+They're holler inside, but you'd never guess it. And, long as you do
+know they're holler, you can keep a watch on 'em. And there's one thing
+sure,” he added, “they ARE ornamental.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+CAPTAIN CY'S “PICTURE”
+
+
+“Wonder where Phoebe went to,” remarked Mr. Tidditt, a little later. “I
+thought I saw her with Heman and Georgianna on the front steps when we
+drove up.”
+
+“She was there,” affirmed the housekeeper. “She'd been helpin' me trim
+up the rooms here. What do you think of 'em, Cap'n Cyrus? Ain't they
+pretty?”
+
+The sitting room and dining room were gay with evergreens and
+old-fashioned flowers. Our living room windows in the winter time are
+usually filled with carefully tended potted plants, and the neighbors
+had loaned their geraniums and fuchsias and heliotrope and begonias to
+brighten the Whittaker house for its owner's return. Captain Cy, who
+was sitting in the rocker, with Bos'n on his knee, looked about him.
+Now that the first burst of excitement was over, he seemed grave and
+preoccupied.
+
+“They look mighty pretty, Georgianna,” he said. “Fine enough. But what
+was that you just said? Did--”
+
+“Yup,” interrupted Miss Taylor, who had scarcely ceased talking since
+breakfast that morning. “Yes, 'twas teacher that helped fix 'em. Not
+that I wouldn't have got along without her, but I had more to do than a
+little, cleanin' and scrubbin' up. So Phoebe she come in, and--Oh! yes,
+as I was sayin', she was out front with me, but the minute your carriage
+drove up with that lovely span--AIN'T that a fine span! I cal'late
+they're--”
+
+“What become of teacher?” broke in Bailey.
+
+“Why, she run off somewheres. I didn't see where she went to; I was too
+busy hollerin' at Cap'n Whittaker and noticin' that span. I bet you they
+made Angie Phinney's eyes stick out. I guess she realizes that we in
+this house are some punkins now. If I don't lord it over her when I run
+acrost her these days, then I miss my guess. I--”
+
+“Belay!” ordered Captain Cy, his gravity more pronounced than ever. “How
+does it happen that you--See here, Georgianna, did you tell Ph--er--Miss
+Dawes what I told you to tell her when I went away?”
+
+“Why, yes, I told her. I hated to, dreadful, but I done it. She was
+awful set back at fust, but I guess she asked Mr. Tidditt--Where you
+goin', Mr. Tidditt?”
+
+The town clerk, his face red, was on his way to the door.
+
+“Asked Ase?” repeated the captain. “Ase, come here! Did you tell her
+anything?”
+
+Asaph was very much embarrassed.
+
+“Well,” he stammered, “I didn't mean to, Cy, but she got to askin' me
+questions, and somehow or nother I did tell her about our confab, yours
+and mine. I told her that I knew folks was talkin', and I felt 'twas
+my duty to tell you so. That's why I done it, and I told her you
+said--well, you know what you said yourself, Cy.”
+
+Captain Cy was evidently much disturbed. He put Bos'n down, and rose to
+his feet.
+
+“Well,” he asked sharply, “what did she say?”
+
+“Oh! she was white and still for a minute or two. Then she kind of
+stamped her foot and went off and left me. But next time she met me she
+was nice as pie. She's been pretty frosty to Angie and the rest of
+'em, but she's been always nice to Bailey and me. Why, when I asked her
+pardon, she said not at all, she was very glad to know the truth; it
+helped her to understand things. And you could see she meant it, too.
+She--”
+
+“So she has been comin' here ever since. And the gossip has been goin'
+on, I s'pose. Well, by the big dipper, it'll stop now! I'll see to
+that.”
+
+The Board of Strategy and the housekeeper were amazed.
+
+“Gossip!” repeated Bailey. “Well, I guess there ain't nothin' said
+against her now--not in THIS town, there ain't! Why, all hands can't
+praise her enough for her smartness in findin' out about that Thomas. If
+it wan't for her, he'd be botherin' you yet, Cy. You know it. What are
+you talkin' about?”
+
+Captain Cy passed his hand over his forehead.
+
+“Bos'n,” he said slowly, “you run and help Georgianna in the kitchen
+a spell. She's got her dinner to look out for, I guess likely.
+Georgianna,” to the housekeeper, who looked anything but eager, “you
+better see to your dinner right off, and take Emmie with you.”
+
+Miss Taylor reluctantly departed, leading Bos'n by the hand. The child
+was loath to leave her uncle, but he told her he wouldn't give a cent
+for his first dinner at home if she didn't help in preparing it. So she
+went out happy.
+
+“Now, then,” demanded the captain, “what's this about Phoebe and Thomas?
+I want to know. Stop! Don't ask another question. Answer me first.”
+
+So the Board of Strategy, by turns and in concert, told of the drive
+to Trumet and the call on Debby Beasley. Asaph would have narrated the
+story of the upset sulky, but Bailey shut him up in short order.
+
+“Never mind that foolishness,” he snapped. “You see, Cy, Debby had just
+been out to Arizona visitin' old Beasley's niece. And she'd fell in with
+a woman out there whose husband had run off and left her. And Debby, she
+read the advertisement about him in the Arizona paper, and it said he
+had the spring halt in his off hind leg, or somethin' similar. Now,
+Thomas, he had that, too, and there was other things that reminded
+Phoebe of him. So she don't say nothin' to nobody, but she writes to
+this woman askin' for more partic'lars and a photograph of the missin'
+one. The partic'lars come, but the photograph didn't; the wife didn't
+have none, I b'lieve. But there was enough to send Phoebe hotfoot to Mr.
+Peabody. And Peabody he writes to his lawyer friend in Butte, Montana.
+And the Butte man he--”
+
+“Well, the long and short of it is,” cut in Tidditt, “that it looked
+safe and sartin that Thomas HAD married the Arizona woman while his real
+wife, Bos'n's ma, was livin', and had run off and left her same as he
+did Mary. And the funny part of it is--”
+
+“The funny part of it is,” declared Bangs, drowning his friend's voice
+by raising his own, “that somebody out there, some scalawag friend of
+this Thomas, must have got wind of what was up, and sent word to him.
+'Cause, when they went to hunt for him in Boston, he'd gone, skipped,
+cut stick. And they ain't seen him since. He was afraid of bein' took up
+for bigamist, you see--for bein' a bigamy, I mean. Well, you know what
+I'm tryin' to say. Anyhow, if it hadn't been for me and Phoebe--”
+
+“YOU and Phoebe!” snorted Asaph. “You had a whole lot to do with it,
+didn't you? You and Aunt Debby 'll do to go together. I understand she's
+cruisin' round makin' proclamations that SHE was responsible for the
+whole thing. No, sir-ree! it's Phoebe Dawes that the credit belongs to,
+and this town ain't done nothin' but praise her since it come out. You
+never see such a quick come-about in your life--unless 'twas Heman's.
+But you knew all this afore, Whit. Peabody must have told you.”
+
+Captain Cy had listened to his friends' story with a face expressive of
+the most blank astonishment. As he learned of the trip to Trumet and
+its results, his eyes and mouth opened, and he repeatedly rubbed his
+forehead and muttered exclamations. Now, at the mention of his lawyer's
+name, he seemed to awaken.
+
+“Hold on!” he interrupted, waving his hand. “Hold on! By the big dipper!
+this is--is--Where IS Peabody? I want to see him.”
+
+“Here I am, captain,” said the attorney. He had been out to the barn to
+superintend the stabling of the span, but for the past five minutes had
+been standing, unnoticed by his client, on the threshold of the dining
+room.
+
+“See here,” demanded Captain Cy, “see here, Peabody; is this yarn true?
+IS it, now? this about--about Phoebe and all?”
+
+“Certainly it's true. I supposed you knew it. You didn't seem surprised
+when I told you the case was settled.”
+
+“Surprised? Why, no! I thought Heman had--Never mind that. Land of love!
+SHE did it. She!”
+
+He sat weakly down. The lawyer looked anxious.
+
+“Mr. Tidditt,” he whispered, “I think perhaps he had better be left
+alone for the present. He's just up from a sick bed, and this has been
+a trying forenoon. Come in again this afternoon. I shall try to persuade
+him to take a nap.”
+
+The Board of Strategy, its curiosity unsatisfied, departed reluctantly.
+When Mr. Peabody returned to the sitting room he found that naps were
+far, indeed, from the captain's thoughts. The latter was pacing the
+sitting-room floor.
+
+“Where is she?” he demanded. “She was standin' on the steps with Heman.
+Have you seen her since?”
+
+His friend was troubled.
+
+“Why, yes, I've seen her,” he said. “I have been talking with her. She
+has gone away.”
+
+“Gone AWAY! Where? What do you mean? She ain't--ain't left Bayport?”
+
+“No, no. What in the world should she leave Bayport for? She has gone
+to her boarding house, I guess; at all events, she was headed in that
+direction.”
+
+“Why didn't she shake hands with me? What made her go off and not say a
+word? Oh, well, I guess likely I know the why!” He sighed despondently.
+“I told her never to come here again.”
+
+“You did? What in the world--”
+
+“Well, for what I thought was good reasons; all on her account they was.
+And yet she did come back, and kept comin', even after Ase blabbed the
+whole thing. However, I s'pose that was just to help Georgianna. Oh,
+hum! I AM an old fool.”
+
+The lawyer inspected him seriously.
+
+“Well, captain,” he said slowly, “if it is any comfort for you to know
+that your reason isn't the correct one for Miss Dawes's going away, I
+can assure you on that point. I think she went because she was greatly
+disappointed, and didn't wish to see you just now.”
+
+“Disappointed? What do you mean?”
+
+“Humph! I didn't mean to tell you yet, but I judge that I'd better. No
+one knows it here but Miss Dawes and I, and probably no one but us three
+need ever know it. You see, the fact is that the Arizona woman, Desire
+Higgins, isn't Mrs. Thomas at all. He isn't her missing husband.”
+
+“What?”
+
+“Yes, it's so. Really, it was too much of a coincidence to be possible,
+and yet it certainly did seem that it would prove true. This Higgins
+woman was, apparently, so anxious to find her missing man that she was
+ready to recognize almost any description; and the slight lameness and
+the fact of his having been in Montana helped along. If we could have
+gotten a photograph sooner, the question would have been settled. Only
+last week, while I was in Boston, I got word from the detective agency
+that a photo had been received. I went to see it immediately. There was
+some resemblance, but not enough. Henry Thomas was never Mr. Higgins.”
+
+“But--but--they say Thomas has skipped out.”
+
+“Yes, he has. That's the queer part of it. At the place where he boarded
+we learned that he got a letter from Arizona--trust the average landlady
+to look at postmarks--that he seemed greatly agitated all that day, and
+left that night. No one has seen him since. Why he went is a puzzle.
+Where, we don't care. So long as he keeps out of our way, that's
+enough.”
+
+Captain Cy did not care, either. He surmised that Mr. Atkins might
+probably explain the disappearance. And yet, oddly enough, this
+explanation was not the true one. The Honorable Heman solemnly assured
+the captain that he had not communicated with Emily's father. He
+intended to do so, as a part of the compact agreed upon at the hotel,
+but the man had fled. And the mystery is still unsolved. The supposition
+is that there really was a wife somewhere in the West. Who or where she
+was no Bayporter knows. Henry Thomas has never come back to explain.
+
+“I told Miss Dawes of the photograph and what it proved,” went on
+Peabody. “She was dreadfully disappointed. She could hardly speak when
+she left me. I urged her to come in and see you, but she wouldn't.
+Evidently she had set her heart on helping you and the child. It is too
+bad, because, practically speaking, we owe everything to her. There
+is little doubt that the inquiry set on foot by her scared the Thomas
+fellow into flight. And she has worked night and day to aid us. She is
+a very clever woman, Captain Whittaker, and a good one. You can't thank
+her enough. Here! what are you about?”
+
+Captain Cy strode past him into the dining room. The hat rack hung on
+the wall by the side door. He snatched his cap from the peg, and was
+struggling into his overcoat.
+
+“Where are you going?” demanded the lawyer. “You mustn't attempt to walk
+now. You need rest.”
+
+“Rest! I'll rest by and by. Just now I've got business to attend to. Let
+go of that pea-jacket.”
+
+“But--”
+
+“No buts about it. I'll see you later. So long.”
+
+He threw open the door and hurried down the walk. The lawyer watched him
+in amazement. Then a slow smile overspread his face.
+
+“Captain,” he called. “Captain Whittaker.”
+
+Captain Cy looked back over his shoulder. “What do you want?” he asked.
+
+Mr. Peabody's face was now intensely solemn, but there was a twinkle in
+his eye.
+
+“I think she's at the boarding house,” he said demurely. “I'm pretty
+certain you'll find her there.”
+
+All the regulars at the perfect boarding house had, of course, attended
+the reception at the Cy Whittaker place. None of them, with the
+exception of the schoolmistress, had as yet returned. Dinner had been
+forgotten in the excitement of the great day, and Keturah and Angeline
+and Mrs. Tripp had stopped in at various dwellings along the main road,
+to compare notes on the captain's appearance and the Atkins address.
+Asaph and Bailey and Alpheus Smalley were at Simmons's.
+
+Captain Cy knew better than to attempt his hurried trip by way of the
+road. He had no desire to be held up and congratulated. He went across
+lots, in the rear of barns and orchards, wading through drifts and
+climbing fences as no sane convalescent should. But the captain at that
+moment was suffering from the form of insanity known as the fixed idea.
+She had done all this for him--for HIM. And his last message to her had
+been an insult.
+
+He approached the Bangs property by the stable lane. No one locks doors
+in our village, and those of the perfect boarding house were unfastened.
+He entered by way of the side porch, just as he had done when Gabe
+Lumley's depot wagon first deposited him in that yard. But now he
+entered on tiptoe. The dining room was empty. He peeped into the sitting
+room. There, by the center table, sat Phoebe Dawes, her elbow on the arm
+of her chair, and her head resting on her hand.
+
+“Ahem! Phoebe!” said Captain Cy.
+
+She started, turned, and saw him standing there. Her eyes were wet, and
+there was a handkerchief in her lap.
+
+“Phoebe,” said the captain anxiously, “have you been cryin'?”
+
+She rose on the instant. A great wave of red swept over her face. The
+handkerchief fell to the floor, and she stooped and picked it up.
+
+“Crying?” she repeated confusedly. “Why, no, of course--of course not!
+I--How do you do, Captain Whittaker? I'm--we're all very glad to see you
+home again--and well.”
+
+She extended her hand. Captain Cy reached forward to take it; then he
+hesitated.
+
+“I don't think I'd ought to let you shake hands with me, Phoebe,” he
+said. “Not until I beg your pardon.”
+
+“Beg my pardon? Why?”
+
+He absently took the hand and held it.
+
+“For the word I sent to you when I went away. 'Twas an awful thing to
+say, but I meant it for your sake, you know. Honest, I did.”
+
+She laughed nervously.
+
+“Oh! that,” she said. “Well, I did think you were rather particular as
+to your visitors. But Mr. Tidditt explained, and then--You needn't beg
+my pardon. I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I knew you meant to be kind
+to me.”
+
+“That's what I did. But you didn't obey orders. You kept comin'. Now,
+why--”
+
+“Why? Did you suppose that _I_ cared for the malicious gossip of--such
+people? I came because you were in trouble, and I hoped to help you.
+And--and I thought I had helped, until a few minutes ago.”
+
+Her lip quivered. That quiver went to the captain's heart.
+
+“Helped?” he faltered. “Helped? Why, you've done so much that I can't
+ever thank you. You've been the only real helper I've had in all this
+miserable business. You've stood by me all through.”
+
+“But it was all wrong. He isn't the man at all. Didn't Mr. Peabody tell
+you?”
+
+“Yes, yes, he told me. What difference does that make? Peabody be
+hanged! He ain't in this. It's you and me--don't you see? What made you
+do all this for me?”
+
+She looked at the floor and not at him as she answered.
+
+“Why, because I wanted to help you,” she said. “I've been alone in the
+world ever since mother died, years ago. I've had few real friends. Your
+friendship had come to mean a great deal to me. The splendid fight you
+were making for that little girl proved what a man you were. And you
+fought so bravely when almost everyone was against you, I couldn't help
+wanting to do something for you. How could I? And now it has come to
+nothing--my part of it. I'm so sorry.”
+
+“It ain't, neither. It's come to everything. Phoebe, I didn't mean to
+say very much more than to beg your pardon when I headed for here. But
+I've got to--I've simply got to. This can't go on. I can't have you
+keep comin' to see me--and Bos'n. I can't keep meetin' you every day. I
+CAN'T.”
+
+She looked up, as if to speak, but something, possibly the expression in
+his face, caused her to look quickly down again. She did not answer.
+
+“I can't do it,” continued the captain desperately. “'Tain't for what
+folks might say. They wouldn't say much when I was around, I tell you.
+It ain't that. It's because I can't bear to have you just a friend.
+Either you must be more'n that, or--or I'll have to go somewheres else.
+I realized that when I was in Washin'ton and cruisin' to California and
+back. I've either got to take Bos'n and go away for good, or--or--”
+
+She would not help him. She would not speak.
+
+“You see?” he groaned. “You see, Phoebe, what an old fool I am. I can't
+ask you to marry me, me fifty-five, and rough from knockin' round the
+world, and you, young and educated, and a lady. I ain't fool enough to
+ask such a thing as that. And yet, I couldn't stay here and meet you
+every day, and by and by see you marry somebody else. By the big dipper,
+I couldn't do it! So that's why I can't shake hands with you to-day--nor
+any more, except when I say good-by for keeps.”
+
+Then she looked up. The color was still bright in her face, and her eyes
+were moist, but she was smiling.
+
+“Can't shake hands with me?” she said. “Please, what have you been doing
+for the last five minutes?”
+
+Captain Cy dropped her hand as if his own had been struck with
+paralysis.
+
+“Good land!” he stammered. “I didn't know I did it; honest truth, I
+didn't.”
+
+Phoebe's smile was still there, faint, but very sweet.
+
+“Why did you stop?” she queried. “I didn't ask you to.”
+
+“Why did I stop? Why, because I--I--I declare I'm ashamed--”
+
+She took his hand and clasped it with both her own.
+
+“I'm not,” she said bravely, her eyes brightening as the wonder and
+incredulous joy grew in his. “I'm very proud. And very, very happy.”
+
+
+
+There was to be a big supper at the Cy Whittaker place that night. It
+was an impromptu affair, arranged on the spur of the moment by Captain
+Cy, who, in spite of the lawyer's protests and anxiety concerning his
+health, went serenely up and down the main road, inviting everybody he
+met or could think of. The captain's face was as radiant as a spring
+sunrise. His smile, as Asaph said, “pretty nigh cut the upper half
+of his head off.” People who had other engagements, and would, under
+ordinary circumstances, have refused the invitation, couldn't say no to
+his hearty, “Can't come? Course you'll come! Man alive! I WANT you.”
+
+“Invalid, is he?” observed Josiah Dimick, after receiving and accepting
+his own invitation. “Well, I wish to thunder I could be took down with
+the same kind of disease. I'd be willin' to linger along with it quite
+a spell if it pumped me as full of joy as Whit seems to be. Don't give
+laughin' gas to keep off pneumonia, do they? No? Well, I'd like to know
+the name of his medicine, that's all.”
+
+Supper was to be ready at six. Georgianna, assisted by Keturah Bangs,
+Mrs. Sylvanus Cahoon, and other volunteers, was gloriously busy in the
+kitchen. The table in the dining room reached from one end of the big
+apartment to the other. Guests would begin to arrive shortly. Wily Mr.
+Peabody, guessing that Captain Cy might prefer to be alone, had taken
+the Board of Strategy out riding behind the span.
+
+In the sitting room, around the baseburner stove, were three
+persons--Captain Cy, Bos'n, and Phoebe. Miss Dawes had “come early,” at
+the captain's urgent appeal. Now she was sitting in the rocker, at
+one side of the stove, gazing dreamily at the ruddy light behind the
+isinglass panes. She looked quietly, blissfully contented and happy.
+At her feet, on the braided mat, sat Bos'n, playing with Lonesome, who
+purred lazily. The little girl was happy, too, for was not her beloved
+Uncle Cyrus at home again, with all danger of their separation ended
+forevermore?
+
+As for Captain Cy himself, the radiant expression was still on his face,
+brighter than ever. He looked across at Phoebe, who smiled back at him.
+Then he glanced down at Bos'n. And all at once he realized that this was
+the fulfillment of his dream. Here was his “picture”; the sitting room
+was now as he had always loved to think of it--as it used to be. He was
+in his father's chair, Phoebe in the one his mother used to occupy, and
+between them--just where he had sat so often when a boy--the child. The
+Cy Whittaker place had again, and at last, come into its own.
+
+He drew a long breath, and looked about the room; at the stove, the
+lamp, the old, familiar furniture, at his grandfather's portrait over
+the mantel. Then, in a flash of memory, his father's words came back to
+him, and he said, laughing aloud from pure happiness:
+
+“Bos'n, run down cellar and get me a pitcher of cider, won't
+you?--there's a good feller.”
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CY WHITTAKER'S PLACE ***
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