“Then—then—You heard Heman say he wanted the other one. What made you do it?”
Captain Cy grinned.
“Ase,” he said, “I've always been a great hand for tryin' experiments. Had one of my cooks aboard put raisins in the flapjacks once, just to see what they tasted like. I judged Heman had had his own way in this town for thirty odd year. I kind of wanted to see what would happen if he didn't have it.”
CHAPTER IV
BAILEY BANGS'S EXPERIMENT
Lemuel Myrick's painting jobs have the quality so prized by our village small boys in the species of candy called “jaw breakers,” namely, that of “lasting long.” But even Lem must finish sometime or other and, late in July, the Cy Whittaker place was ready for occupancy. The pictures were in their places on the walls, the old-fashioned furniture filled the rooms, there was even a pile of old magazines, back numbers of Godey's Lady's Book, on the shelf in the sitting room closet.
Then, when Captain Cy had notified Mrs. Bangs that the perfect boarding house would shelter him no longer than the coming week, a new problem arose.
“Whit,” said Asaph earnestly, “you've sartin made the place rise up out of its tomb; you have so. It's a miracle, pretty nigh, and I cal'late it must have cost a heap, but you've done it—all but the old folks themselves. You can't raise them up, Cy; money won't do that. And you can't live in this great house all alone. Who's goin' to cook for you, and sweep and dust, and swab decks, and one thing a'nother? You'll have to have a housekeeper, as I told you a spell ago. Have you done any thinkin' about that?”
And the captain, taking his pipe from his lips, stared blankly at his friend, and answered: