"Yes, sir." Then, pointing, she asked: "Is that your house?"

The Captain grinned. "Well, no, not exactly," he said. "That's the town
hall. Nobody lives there but the selectmen and they ain't permanent
boarders--that is, I have hopes some of 'em 'll move after town-meetin'
day. Our house is over yonder, down nigh the shore."

The old horse pricked up his ears at sight of home and the buggy moved
faster. It rolled through the main street, where the Captain and
Mr. Hamilton were kept busy answering hails and returning bows from
citizens, male and female. Through the more thickly settled portion of
the village it moved, until at a point where there were fewer shops and
the houses were older and less up-to-date, it reached the corner of a
narrow cross road. There it stopped before a frame building bearing the
sign, "Hamilton and Company, Dry Goods, Groceries, Boots and Shoes and
Notions." There was a narrow platform at the front of the building and
upon this platform were several men, mostly of middle age or older.
Mary-'Gusta noticed that most of these men were smoking. If she had been
older she might have noticed that each man either sat upon the platform
steps or leaned against the posts supporting its roof. Not one was
depending solely upon his own muscles for support; he sat upon or leaned
against something wooden and substantial.

As the buggy drew alongside the platform the men evinced considerable
interest. Not enough to make them rise or relinquish support, but
interest, nevertheless.

"Hello, Shad!" hailed one. "Home again, be you?"