"Cap'n," he said, "you ain't met Mr. Atkins yet. When you do, you'll
feel same as the rest of us. He's comin' home next week; then you'll
see."

A part at least of Mr. Simpson's prophecy proved true. The Honorable
Atkins did come to Bayport the following week, accompanied by his little
daughter Alicia, the housekeeper, and the Atkins servants. The Honorable
and his daughter had been, since the adjournment of Congress, on a
pleasure trip to the Yosemite and Yellowstone Park, and now they were
to remain in the mansion on the hill for some time. The big house was
opened, the stone urns burst into refulgent bloom, the iron dogs were
refreshed with a coat of black paint, and the big iron gate was swung
wide. Bayport sat up and took notice. Angeline Phinney was in her glory.

The meeting between Captain Cy and Mr. Atkins took place the morning
after the latter's return. The captain and his two chums had been
inspecting the progress made by the carpenters and were leaning over the
new fence, then just erected, but not yet painted. Down the gravel walk
of the mansion across the road came strolling its owner, silk-hatted,
side-whiskered, benignant.

"Godfrey!" exclaimed Asaph. "There's Heman. See him, Whit?"

"Yup, I see him. Seems to be headin' this way."

"I--I do believe he's comin' across," whispered Mr. Bangs. "Yes, he is.
He's real everyday, Cy. HE won't mind if you ain't dressed up."

"Won't he? That's comfortin'. Well, I'll do the best I can without