“Don't, my dear, don't!” she said. “It is beautiful. It is home. And—and you know I have never had a home, a real home before.”
“Then you like it?” I cried. “You really like it? It is so different from England. The people—”
“They are dear, kind people. And they like you and respect you, Kent. How could you say they didn't! I know I shall love them all.”
I made a dash for the kitchen. “Hephzy!” I shouted. “Hephzy! She does like it. She likes Bayport and the people and everything.”
Hephzy was just entering at the back door. She did not seem in the least surprised.
“Of course she likes it,” she said, with decision. “How could anybody help likin' Bayport?”
CHAPTER XIX
Which Treats of Quahaugs in General
Asaph Tidditt helped me to begin this long chronicle of a quahaug's pilgrimage. Perhaps it is fitting that Asaph should end it. He dropped in for a call the other afternoon and, as I had finished my day's “stunt” at the desk, I assisted in entertaining him. Frances was in the sitting-room also and Hephzy joined us soon afterward. Mr. Tidditt had stopped at the post-office on his way down and he had the Boston morning paper in his hand. Of course he was filled to the brim with war news. We discuss little else in Bayport now; even the new baby at the parsonage has to play second fiddle.