hat, 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!" h