re branches in the
cutting wind; a picture of the fag end of loneliness and desolation, so
it looked to her. She remembered Mr. Graves's opinion of the place, as
jokingly reported by Sylvester, and she sympathized with the dignified
junior partner.

But she kept her feelings hidden on her uncle's account. The captain
was probably the happiest individual in the state of Massachusetts that
morning. He hailed the train's approach to Sandwich as the entrance to
Ostable County, the promised land, and, from that station on, excitedly
pointed out familiar landmarks and bits of scenery and buildings with
the gusto and enthusiasm of a school boy.

"That's Ostable court-house," he cried, pointing. "And see--see that
red-roofed house right over there, just past that white church? That's
where Judge Baxter lives; a mighty good friend of mine, the Judge is. I
stopped to his house to dinner the night Graves came."

A little further on he added, "'Twas about here that I spoke to Graves
fust. I noticed him sittin' right across the aisle from me, with a face
on him sour as a sasser of green tamarind preserves, and I thought I'd
be sociable. 'Tough night,' I says. 'Umph,' says he. 'Twa'n't a remark
cal'lated to encourage conversation, so I didn't try again--not till his
umbrella turned inside out on the Denboro platform. Ho! ho! I wish you'd
have seen his face _then_."

At Denboro he pointed out Pete Shattuck's livery stable, where the horse
and buggy came from which had been the means of transporting Graves and
himself to South Denboro.

"See!" he cried. "See that feller holdin' up the corner of the depot
with his back! the one that's so broad in the beam he has to draw in his
breath afore he can button his coat. That's Pete. You'd think he was too
sleepy to care whether 'twas to-day or next week, wouldn't you? Well, if
you was a summer boarder and wanted to hire a team, you'd find Pete was
awake and got up early. If a ten-cent piece fell off the shelf in the
middle of the night he'd hear it, though I've known him to sleep while
the minister's barn burned down. The parson had been preachin' against
horse-tradin'; maybe that sermon was responsible for some of the
morphine influence."

Sylvester was enjoying himself hugely. Captain Elisha's exuberant
comments were great fun for him. "This is what I came for," he confided
to Caroline. "I don't care if it rains or snows. I could sit and listen
to your uncle for a year and never tire.