“You'll have to excuse me, Bailey,” interrupted Captain Hiram, rising and looking at his watch. “I've stayed here a good deal longer'n I ought to, already. I must be gettin' on home to see how poor little Dusenberry, my boy, is feelin'. I do hope he's better by now. I wish Dr. Parker hadn't gone out of town.”
The depot master rose also. “And I'll have to be excused, too,” he declared. “It's most time for the up train. Good-by, Hiram. Give my regards to Sophrony, and if there's anything I can do to help, in case your baby should be sick, just sing out, won't you?”
“But I want to tell about this automobilin' scrape,” protested Captain Bailey. “It was one of them things that don't happen every day.”
“So was that fortune business of Effie's,” declared Wingate. “Honest, the way it worked out was queer enough.”
But the train whistled just then and the group broke up. Captain Sol went out to the platform, where Cornelius Rowe, Ed Crocker, Beriah Higgins, Obed Gott, and other interested citizens had already assembled. Wingate and Stitt followed. As for Captain Hiram Baker, he hurried home, his conscience reproving him for remaining so long away from his wife and poor little Hiram Joash, more familiarly known as “Dusenberry.”
CHAPTER XIII
DUSENBERRY'S BIRTHDAY
Mrs. Baker met her husband at the door.
“How is he?” was the Captain's first question. “Better, hey?”