sun" quilts from that. At least half of Bayport believed with Gabe
Lumley and Miss Phinney that, if Captain Cy had not escaped from a home
for the insane, he was a likely candidate for such an institution.

At the table of the perfect boarding house the captain was not inclined
to be communicative regarding his reasons and his intentions. He was a
prime favorite there, praising Keturah's cooking, joking with Angeline
concerning what he was pleased to call her "giddy" manner of dressing
and wearing "side curls," and telling yarns of South American dress
and behavior, which would probably have shocked Mrs. Tripp--she having
recently left the Methodist church to join the "Come-Outers," because
the Sunday services of the former were, with the organ and a paid choir,
altogether "too play-actin'"--if they had not been so interesting, and
if Captain Cy had not always concluded them with the observation: "But
there! you can't expect nothin' more from ignorant critters denied
the privileges of congregational singin' and experience meetin's; hey,
Matilda?"

Mrs. Tripp would sigh and admit that she supposed not.

"Only I do wish Mr. Daniels, OUR minister, might have a chance to preach
over 'em, poor things!"

"So do I," with a covert wink at Mrs. Bangs, who was a stanch adherent
of the regular faith. "South America 'd be just the place for him; ain't
that so, Keturah?"

He evaded all personal questions put to him by the boarders, explaining
that he was renovating the old place just for fun--he always had had a
gang of men working for him, and it seemed natural somehow. But to the