Briggs was in charge of the post-card counter, and as now a
post-card was the only thing I could afford to buy, at seeing her
there I was doubly pleased. But she was not pleased to see me.
Evidently Mr. Hatchardson had told her I had purchased the "Log"
and at her loss her very lovely face still showed disappointment.
Toward me her manner was distinctly aggrieved.

But of the "Log" I said nothing, and began recklessly purchasing
post-cards that pictured the show places of New Bedford. Almost the
first one I picked up was labelled "Harbor Castle. Residence of
Fletcher Farrell." I need not say that I studied it intently.
According to the post-card, Harbor Castle stood on a rocky point
with water on both sides. It was an enormous, wide-spreading
structure, as large as a fort. It exuded prosperity, opulence,
extravagance, great wealth. I felt suddenly a filial impulse to
visit the home of my would-be forefathers.

"Is this place near here?" I asked.

Miss Briggs told me that in order to reach it I should take the
ferry to Fairbarbor, and then cross that town to the Buzzards Bay
side.

"You can't miss it," she said. "It's a big stone house, with red
and white awnings. If you see anything like a jail in ruffles,
that's it."

It was evident that with the home I had rejected Miss Briggs was
unimpressed; but seeing me add the post-card to my collection, she
offered me another.