"To-morrow morning."
"What time?"
"Couldn't say; you'd have to watch for her."
"That's our boat, dad," said the young man.
"But we've just come from there!" snorted his father; "it's three hundred miles back. It'll put us behind two days. I've got to be in New York Friday. I've got an engagement." He turned suddenly to the agent. "Here, I've got to send a telegram."
The agent blinked placidly. "You'll not send it from here. This ain't a telegraph station."
"Where's the nearest station?"
"Fifteen mile."
Without further parley the old man turned and walked, stiff and military, from the place. Near the end of the broad walk he met the usual doddering but amiable oldest inhabitant.
"Fine day," chirped the patriarch in well-meant friendliness. "They jest brought in a bear cub over to Antoine's. If you'd like to take a look at him, I'll show you where it is."