ngaged 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.