n Reach,"
says he as we swaps grips.

Say, there's some boss for you, eh? But how he could dope out the
symptoms so accurate is what gets me. Anyhow, he had the answer; for I
don't stop to consult any vacation guidebook or summer tours pamphlet.
I beats it for the Grand Central, pushes up to the ticket window, and
calls for a round trip to Roaring Rocks.

"Nothing doing," says the guy. "Give you Bass Rocks, Seal Rocks, or
six varieties of Spouting Rocks; but no Roaring ones on the list. Any
choice?"

"Gwan, you fresh Mellen seed!" says I. "You got to have 'em. It says
so on the card," and I shoves the postal at him.

"Ah, yes, my young ruddy duck," says he. "Postmarked Boothbay Harbor,
isn't it? Bath for yours. Change there for steamer. Upper's the best
I can do for you--drawing rooms all gone."

"Seein' how my private car's bein' reupholstered, I'll chance an
upper," says I. "Only don't put any nose trombone artist underneath."

Yes, I was feelin' some gayer than a few hours before. What did I care
if the old town was warmin' up as we pulls out until it felt like a
Turkish bath? I was bound north on the map, with my new Norfolk suit
and three outing shirts in my bag, a fair-sized wad of spendin' kale
buttoned into my back pocket, and that card of Vee's stowed away
careful. Say, I should worry! And don't they do some breezin' along
on that Bar Harbor express while you sleep, though?

"What cute little village is this?" says I to Rastus in the washroom
next mornin' about six-thirty A. M.

"Pohtland, Suh," says he. "Breakfast stop, Suh."

"Me for it, then," says I. "When in Maine be a maniac." So I tackles
a plate of pork-and on its native heath; also a hunk of pie. M-m-m-m!
They sure can build pie up there!

It's quite some State, Maine. Bath is several jumps on, and that next
joint---- Say, it wa'n't until I'd changed to the steamer and was
lookin' over my ticket that I sees anything familiar about the name.
Boothbay! Why, wa'n't that the Rube spot this Ira Higgins hailed from?
Maybe you remember,--Ira, who'd come on to see Mr. Robert about
buildin' a new racin' yacht, the tall, freckled gink with a love affair
on his mind? Why, sure, this was Ira's Harbor I was headed for. And,
say, I didn't feel half so strange about explorin' the State after
that. For Ira, you know, is a friend of mine. Havin' settled that
with myself, I throws out my chest and roams around the decks, climbin'
e