The Sunday that the Hall had been occupied, chanced to be Michaelmas beautiful festival, ripe like the landscape with color and fruitage. All nature—its maples, its oaks, its fields, its orchards—was shining with the glow of St. Michael’s triumph over the dragon. And in the rough little fishing village by the sea, it seemed as if the brave, mighty archangel had given the old dragon another thrust, and Right had sorely wounded the Wrong.
CHAPTER X.
THE BOAT–RACE.
No less a wonder than a boat–race was announced on an October day, and no less a person than Chauncy Aldrich planned the wonder.
“We need to wake ’em up, wake ’em up,” he said to Walter, and he ran his hand through his bristling rampart of hair. “Trade is dull, and needs stimulating. People that want to do business must make business. I have passed a subscription paper round, and the business men of the community have handed out quite liberally. Your uncle, I am sorry to say, did not seem to have a commendable local pride, I should say, and refused to help us. However, we propose to have the race, and give a purse of twenty–five dollars to the successful boat in a six–oared race. Entries can be made by any parties living inside of ten miles from here. Yes, we are going to wake up some trade, and so we have thought it best to have a boat–race.” A purse of twenty–five dollars! That sounded large as—the Atlantic Ocean. It consisted, however, of Baggs’ very liberal “promise” of twenty dollars, or double even (and it is very easy to multiply a “promise” any number of times), an actual subscription of four dollars from Timothy Pullins—Uncle Boardman’s business–rival at The Harbor—and then Miss Green was so tickled to be accounted one of the business community, and to receive an invitation to subscribe, that she had actually handed over the magnificent sum of one silver dollar.
The neighborhood was very much excited over the event. Walter had been selected as one of the crew in Chauncy’s boat, and with his usual enthusiasm, he practiced rowing at all leisure moments. Aunt Lydia found him “going through the motions,” as he declared it, behind the counter of the store, even.
“What ye doin’, Walter?”
“Ha, ha, Aunt! Only going through the motions, practicing the stroke Chauncy gave us. He says it is the best in the country. There, you shove forward so—”