another fortnight the hotels
would be closed, the boarding houses would be closing, and Trumet,
deserted by its money spending visitors, would be falling asleep,
relapsing into its autumn and winter hibernation. And the Dott ledger,
instead of showing a profit of a thousand or fifteen hundred dollars, as
it had the first summer after Daniel bought the business, showed but a
meager three hundred and fifty, over and above expenses.

Through the window the sun was shining brightly. From the road in front
of the store--Trumet's "Main Street"--came the rattle of wheels and the
sound of laughter and conversation in youthful voices. The sounds drew
nearer. Someone shouted "Whoa!" Daniel Dott, a ray of hope illuminating
his soul at the prospect of a customer, rose hurriedly from his seat by
the desk and hastened out into the shop.

A big two-horsed vehicle, the "barge" from the Manonquit House, had
stopped before the door. It was filled with a gay crowd, youths and
maidens from the hotel, dressed in spotless flannels and "blazers," all
talking at once, and evidently carefree and happy. Two of the masculine
members of the party descended from the "barge" and entered the store.
Daniel, smiling his sweetest, stepped forward to meet them.

"Good mornin', good mornin'," he said. "A fine mornin', ain't it?"

The greeting was acknowledged by both of the young fellows, and one of
them added that it was a fine morning, indeed.

"Don't know as I ever saw a finer," observed Daniel. "Off on a cruise
somewhere, I presume likely; hey?"

"Picnic down at the Point."

"Well, you've got picnic weather, all right. Yes sir, you have!"

Comment concerning the weather is the inevitable preliminary to all
commercial transactions in Trumet. Now, preliminaries being over, Daniel
waited hopefully for what was to follow. His hopes were dashed.

"Is--is Miss Dott about?" inquired one of the callers.

"Miss Dott? Oh, Gertie! No, she ain't. She's gone down street
somewheres. Be back pretty soon, I shouldn't wonder."

"Humph! Well, I'm afraid we can't wait. We hoped she might go with us on
the picnic. We--er--we wanted her very much."

"That so? I'm sorry, but I'm afraid she couldn't go, even if she was
here. You see, it's her last day at home, and--we--her mother and
I--that is, I don't believe she'd want to leave us to-day."

"No; no, of course not. Well, tell her we wish she might have come,
but we understand. Yes, yes," in answer to the ca