early hours--they retired at
nine-thirty each night--were doing wonders for her. Her husband was
delighted at the improvement. He was delighted with everything, the
familiar scenes, the smell of the salt marshes, and of the sea, the
clear, cold air, the meeting with friends and acquaintances, the
freedom from society--he had not even unpacked his dress suit, vowing to
Gertrude that it might stay buried till Judgment, he wouldn't resurrect
it--all these things delighted his soul. And now, on the Saturday
morning at the end of his first week at home, as he sat in his arm
chair behind the counter of the Metropolitan Store, looking at the view
through the windows and at the store itself, he was a happy man. There
was one flaw in his happiness, but that he had forgotten for the moment.

He glanced about him, took a long pull at his pipe, and said aloud:
"Well, if I didn't know 'twas the same place, I wouldn't have known it.
I never saw such a change in my life."

Nathaniel Bangs, standing by the front window, turned.

"I don't see much difference," he said. "The old town looks about the
same to me."

The captain smilingly shook his head.

"'Tain't the town," he observed. "It's this store. Nate, you're a
wonder, that's what you are, a wonder."

For, if the view had not changed, if it was the same upon which Daniel
Dott had looked for many winters, through the windows of that very
store, the store itself had changed materially. Mr. Bangs had wrought
the change and it was distinctly a change for the better. The stock, and
there was a surprising deal of it, was new and attractively displayed.
The contents of the showcases were varied and up-to-date. Neatly
lettered placards calling attention to special bargains hung in places
where they were most likely to be seen. There was a spruce, swept, and
garnished look to the establishment; as Azuba said when she first saw it
after her return, it looked as if it had had a shave and a hair cut. In
other words, the Metropolitan Store appeared wide awake and prosperous,
as if it was making money--which it was.

It was not making a great deal, of course, as yet. This was the dullest
season of the year. But the Christmas trade had been good and, thanks
to Nathaniel's enterprise and effort, the scallop fishermen, the quahaug
rakers, and the members of the life-saving crews were once more buying
their outfits at the Metropolitan Store instead of patronizing Mr.
J. Cohen and The Emporiu