He chuckled. Serena, however, was very solemn.

"Daniel," she said, "I must speak to you again about your language.
You've lived in Trumet so long that you talk just like Azuba, or pretty
nearly as bad. You mustn't say 'critter' and 'wa'n't' and 'cal'late.' Do
try, won't you, to please me?"

"I'll try, Serena. But I don't see what difference it makes. We DO live
in Trumet, don't we?"

"We HAVE lived there. How long we shall--But there, never mind. Just
remember as well as you can and get ready now for dinner."

Her husband muttered that he didn't see where the "getting ready" came
in; he had on the best he'd got. But he washed his hands and brushed
his hair and they descended to the dining-room, where they ate a 'table
d'hote' meal, beginning with lukewarm soup and ending with salty ice
cream.

They had left Trumet the previous evening, spending the night at
Centreboro and taking the early morning train for Scarford. Two weeks
had passed since the fateful visit of young Mr. Farwell, and, though
the wondrous good fortune which had befallen the Dott family was still
wonderful, they were beginning to accept it as a real and established
fact. All sorts of things had happened during those two weeks. They had
gone to Boston, where they spent the better part of two days with
the lawyers, going over the lists of securities, signing papers, and
arranging all sorts of business matters. Serena and the attorneys did
the most of the arranging. Captain Dan looked on, understanding very
little, saying "Yes" or "No" as commanded by his wife, and signing his
name whenever and wherever requested.

After another day, spent in the Boston shops, where the new clothes
were purchased or ordered, a process which Serena enjoyed hugely and her
husband endured with a martyr's patience, they had paid a flying visit
to the college town and Gertrude. They found the young lady greatly
excited and very happy, but her happiness was principally on their
account.

"I'm so glad for you both, Daddy," she told her father. "When I got
Mother's letter with the news the very first thing I thought was:
'There! now Father won't have to worry any more about the old store
or anything else. He can be comfortable and carefree and happy, as he
deserves to be.' And you won't worry, will you, Dad?"

The captain seemed oddly doubtful.

"I shan't if I can help it," he said. "But I'm the most foolish chap
that ever lived, in some ways, seems so. When the busine