The 'table d'hote' meal eaten, the next feature of Mrs. Dott's program was the visit to the Aunt Lavinia homestead. There was a caretaker in charge, so the Boston lawyers told them, and Serena had written him announcing the coming of the new owners. In spite of her husband's protestations, another carriage was hired for the journey. Daniel was strongly in favor of walking or going by trolley.
“Walkin'll be cheaper, Serena,” he declared, “and pretty nigh as fast, to say nothin' of bein' more cheerful. A hack always makes me think of funerals and graveyards, and that skeleton of a horse looked like somethin' that had been buried and dug up. Let's walk, will you?”
But Serena would not walk.
“We must get used to carriages,” she said. “We may ride in them a great deal from now on. And, besides, we needn't take a horse carriage. We shouldn't have taken one before. Get one of those new kind, the automobile ones. What is it they call them? Oh, yes—taxis.”
The taxi gave no opportunity for complaint as far as slowness was concerned. After the first quarter of a mile dodge up the crowded street Captain Dan shouted through the window.
“Hi!” he hailed, addressing the driver. “Hi, you! You've made a mistake, ain't you? You thought we wanted to fly. We don't. Just hit the ground once in a while, so we'll know it's there.”
After this the cab moved at a more reasonable speed and its occupants had an opportunity to observe the streets through which they were passing. The business district was being left behind and they were entering the residential section.
Mrs. Dott seized her husband's arm.
“Look!” she cried. “Look, Daniel, quick! Do you see that? That building there!”
“I see it. Some kind of a hall or somethin', ain't it?”