“I—I didn't go to do it,” protested the frightened Issy.
“Course you didn't. If you had you wouldn't. You're like the feller in Scriptur', you leave undone the things you ought to do and do them that—All right, Jim! Let her go! Cast off!”
The conductor waved his hand, the engine puffed, the bell rang, and the train moved onward. For another twelve hours East Harniss was left marooned by the outside world.
Beriah Higgins and the mail bag were already in the post office. Thither went the crowd to await the sorting and ultimate distribution. A short, fat little man lingered and, walking up to the depot master, extended his hand.
“Hello, Sol!” he said, smiling. “Thought I'd stop long enough to say 'Howdy,' anyhow.”
“Why, Bailey Stitt!” cried the Captain. “How are you? Glad to see you. Thought you was down to South Orham, takin' out seasick parties for the Ocean House, same kind of a job I used to have in Wellmouth.”
“I am,” replied Captain Stitt. “That is, I was. Just now I've run over here to see about contractin' for a supply of clams and quahaugs for our boarders. You never see such a gang to eat as them summer folks, in your life. Barzilla Wingate, he says the same about his crowd. He's comin' on the mornin' train from Wellmouth.”
“You don't tell me. I ain't seen Barzilla for a long spell. Where you stoppin'? Come up to the house, won't you?”
“Can't. I'm goin' to put up over to Obed Gott's. His sister, Polena Ginn, is a relation of mine by marriage. So long! Obed's gone on ahead to tell Polena to put the kettle on. Maybe Obed and I'll be back again after I've had supper.”
“Do. I'll be round here for two or three hours yet.”