“We wanted to be the fust to say howdy, old man,” explained Asaph. “Wanted to welcome you back, you know.”
The captain was immensely pleased.
“Well, I'm glad I've got so much popularity, anyhow,” he said. “Guess 'twill be different when I get down street, hey? Don't cal'late Tad and Angie 'll shed the joyous tear over me. Never mind; long's my friends are glad I don't care about the rest.”
The Board looked at each other.
“Tad?” repeated Bailey. “And Angie? What you talkin' about? Why, they—Ugh!”
The last exclamation was the result of a tremendous dig in the ribs from the Tidditt fist. Asaph, who had leaned forward to administer it, was frowning and shaking his head. Mr. Bangs relapsed into a grinning silence.
West Bayport seemed to be deserted. At one or two houses, however, feminine heads appeared at the windows. One old lady shook a calico apron at the carriage. A child beside her cried: “Hurrah!”
“Aunt Hepsy h'istin' colors by mistake,” laughed the captain. “She ain't got her specs, I guess, and thinks I'm Heman. That comes of ridin' astern of a span, Peabody.”
But as they drew near the Center flags were flying from front-yard poles. Some of the houses were decorated.
“What in the world—” began Captain Cy. “Land sakes! look at the schoolhouse. And Simmons's! And—and Simpson's!”