umet; he liked its quiet, easy-going atmosphere;
he liked the Trumet people, and they liked him. He had never been in
Scarford, but he was certain he should not like the life there, the kind
of life lived by the B. Phelps Blacks, at any rate. The Metropolitan
Store was, he felt, an anchor holding him fast to the Cape Cod village.
If he cut the anchor rope, goodness knows where he might drift.

On the very day of their return from the Boston trip Serena had begun to
discuss the visit to Scarford, the visit of inspection to Aunt Lavinia's
"estate." They must go, she said; of course they must go. It was their
duty to do that, at least. How could they know what to do with the
property until they saw it? To all Daniel's feeble objections and
excuses she was deaf. Of course they could leave the house. Azuba would
take care of that, just as she always did when they were away. As for
the store, Nathaniel would be glad to remain as manager indefinitely if
they wanted him. Surely he had done splendidly with it while they were
in Boston.

He had. During the four days' absence of its proprietor the Metropolitan
Store had actually sold more goods for cash than it had sold during
any previous week that summer. Bangs was optimistic concerning its
prospects. He was loaded with schemes and ideas.

"All you need is a little push and up-to-date methods, Cap'n," he said.
"You must advertise a little, and let people know what you've got to
sell. That's how I got rid of all that stale candy you had in the boxes
behind the showcase. I knew the Methodist folks had a Sunday school
picnic on the slate for Tuesday. Kids like candy, but candy costs money.
I got out all that stale stuff, put it up in bags at five cents apiece,
and sent the bags and Sam here to the picnic. About every kid had ten
cents or so to spend, and it didn't make any difference to him or her
whether the candy was fresh or not, so there was enough of it. If a
chocolate cream is harder than the rock of Gibraltar it lasts longer
when you're eating it, and that's a big advantage to the average young
one. Sam came back, sold out, and we've got four dollars and eighty
cents right out of the junk pile, as you might call it. The kids are
happy and so are we. There's a half-dozen dried-up oilskin coats in the
attic that I've got my eye on. The Manonquit House crowd are going off
on a final codfishing cruise to-morrow and I'll be on the dock with
those coats at a dollar apiece when t