, "I shall be on
my way to the insane asylum, not to Europe. You are much more likely to
be ashamed of me."

"The idea! And you the pride of this town! The only author that ever
lived in it--unless you call Joshua Snow an author, and he lived in the
poorhouse and nobody but himself was proud of HIM."

Josh Snow was Bayport's Homer, its only native poet. He wrote the
immortal ballad of the scallop industry, which begins:

"On a fine morning at break of day,
When the ice has all gone out of the bay,
And the sun is shining nice and it is like spring,
Then all hands start to go scallop-ING."

In order to get the fullest measure of music from this lyric gem you
should put a strong emphasis on the final "ing." Joshua always did and
the summer people never seemed to tire of hearing him recite it. There
are eighteen more verses.

"I shall not be ashamed of you, Hephzy," I repeated. "You know it
perfectly well. And I shall not go unless you go."

"But I can't go, Hosy. I couldn't leave the hens and the cat. They'd
starve; you know they would."

"Susanna will look after them. I'll leave money for their provender. And
I will pay Susanna for taking care of them. She has fallen in love with
the cat; she'll be only too glad to adopt it."

"And I haven't got a single thing fit to wear."

"Neither have I. We will buy complete fit-outs in Boston or New York."

"But--"

There were innumerable "buts." I answered them as best I could. Also
I reiterated my determination not to go unless she did. I told of
Campbell's advice and laid strong emphasis on the fact that he had said
travel was my only hope. Unless she wished me to die of despair she must
agree to travel with me.

"And you have said over and over again that your one desire was to go
abroad," I added, as a final clincher.

"I know it. I know I have. But--but now when it comes to really
goin' I'm not so sure. Uncle Bedny Small was always declarin' in
prayer-meetin' that he wanted to die so as to get to Heaven, but when he
was taken down with influenza he made his folks call both doctors here
in town and one from Harniss. I don't know whether I want to go or not,
Hosy. I--I'm frightened, I guess."

Jim's answer to my telegram arrived the very next day.

"Have engaged two staterooms for ship sailing Wednesday the tenth," it
read. "Hearty congratulations on your good sense. Who is your companion?
Write particulars."

The telegram quashed