m, had gone, the station
platforms were almost deserted, the more pretentious cottages were
closed. The Cape looked bare and brown and wind-swept. I thought of
the English fields and hedges, of the verdant beauty of the Mayberry
pastures. What SORT of a place would she think this, the home to which I
was bringing her?

She had been very much excited and very much interested. New York,
with its sky-scrapers and trolleys, its electric signs and clean white
buildings, the latter so different from the grimy, gray dwellings and
shops of London, had been a wonderland to her. She had liked the Pullman
and the dining-car and the Boston hotel. But this, this was different.
How would she like sleepy, old Bayport and the people of Bayport.

Well, I should soon know. Even the morning "accommodation" reaches
Bayport some time or other. We were the only passengers to alight at the
station, and Elmer Snow, the station agent, and Gabe Lumley, who drives
the depot wagon, were the only ones to welcome us. Their welcome was
hearty enough, I admit. Gabe would have asked a hundred questions if I
had answered the first of the hundred, but he seemed strangely reluctant
to answer those I asked him.

Bayport was gettin' along first-rate, he told me. Tad Simpson's youngest
child had diphtheria, but was sittin' up now and the fish weirs had
caught consider'ble mackerel that summer. So much he was willing to say,
but he said little more. I asked how the house and garden were looking
and he cal'lated they were all right. Pumping Gabe Lumley was a new
experience for me. Ordinarily he doesn't need pumping. I could not
understand it. I saw Hephzy and he in consultation on the station
platform and I wondered if she had been able to get more news than I.

We rattled along the main road, up the hill by the Whittaker place--I
looked eagerly for a glimpse of Captain Cy himself, but I didn't see
him--and on until we reached our gate. Frances said very little during
our progress through the village. I did not dare speak to her; I was
afraid of asking her how she liked what she had seen of Bayport. And
Hephzy, too, was silent, although she kept her head out of the window
most of the time.

But when the depot wagon entered the big gate and stopped before the
side door I felt that I must say something. I must not appear fearful or
uneasy.

"Here we are!" I cried, springing out and helping her and Hephzy to
alight. "Here we are at last. This is home, dear