“Why, Judge, you back again? Well, I’m certain glad to see you? ‘Tourists’ like you are the sort we welcome heartiest to Ya’mouth. Fact, ain’t it? The more folks know, the more they’ve traveled, the more they find to admire and enjoy even in such a place as this!” cried one old seaman, whom they met on their morning walk.
For having enjoyed a most excellent breakfast and the sun now shining brilliantly, they set out for a stroll through the pretty streets and past the charming gardens of the town; and finally brought up at the postoffice where there were letters for everybody, even for Dorothy.
Hers was from Jim Barlow, and full of news of the mountain and old friends there; saying, also, that he had been invited to join his tutor, the Rev. Mr. Sterling, who was sometimes called the “tramping parson,” on a walking tour through the northern part of the Empire State. It was overflowing with enthusiasm over the places he would visit and the wonderful “good luck” which had so changed the life of the truck-farm lad; “and I mean to make the whole ‘tramp’ a part of my education. I tell you, Dolly girl, if there’s much gets past me without my seeing and knowing it, it’ll be when I’m asleep. Mr. Sterling’s a geologist, and likes to take his vacation this way, so’s he can find new stones, or hammer old ones to his heart’s content.
“Whilst he’s a hammering I’ll be hunting things in the woods. I mean to make a regular list of every bird I see, and every animal, and study all their little habits and tricks. I’ll carry some old newspapers and a book, too, so that if I come across any new kind of flower or plant I’ll press it for you. That way my vacation’ll be considerable of a help to you too.
“Try and learn all you can, Dorothy child, whilst you have the chance. There’s nothing so perfectly grand in all this world as learning things. I’ve noticed you were getting a little flighty, along back, and setting more store by your clothes than you used to, or that a girl who’ll have to teach for her living had ought to. Needn’t get mad with me for reminding you. I can write it easier than I could say it to your face, some way; and amongst all the good times you’re having don’t forget to write to me once in a while, for we’ve been so like brother and sister this long time that I want to hear. So no more at present from your affectionate
“James Barlow.
“P. S.—I had a letter from Mrs. Cecil Somerset-Calvert. She wrote I was to call to Deerhurst and get Peter and Ponce, her two Great Danes, and take them with me on my tour. She’d already written to Mr. Sterling, because she knew he was a dog-lover, and he was pleased to have them on the trip. Good-by.
“Jim.”
“Well, this changes our plans somewhat,” remarked the Judge, looking up from one of his letters, with an expression of some disappointment. They had all paused outside the postoffice building to hastily scan their news, and now grouped about him in interest, as Mrs. Hungerford rather anxiously asked:
“Why, Schuyler, what’s happened?”