Centre's three mile or more astern of us; I've just come from there."

"Oh, dear me! I must have lost my way. I was quite sure of it. It seemed
to me I had been walking a very long time."

Mr. Pulcifer laughed. "Haw, haw!" he guffawed, "I should say you had!
I tell you what you done, Mister; you walked right past that crossroad
Nelse told you to turn in at. THAT would have fetched you to the Centre.
Instead of doin' it you kept on as you was goin' and here you be 'way
out in the fag-end of nothin'. The Centre's three mile astern and East
Wellmouth's about two and a ha'f ahead. Haw, haw! that's a good one,
ain't it!"

His companion's laugh was not enthusiastic. It was as near a groan as
a laugh could well be. He put the yellow suitcase down in the mud and
looked wearily up and down the fog-draped road. There was little of it
to be seen, but that little was not promising.

"Dear me!" he exclaimed. "Dear me!" And then added, under his breath:
"Oh, dear!"

Mr. Pulcifer regarded him intently. A new idea was beginning to dawn
beneath the plaid cap.

"Say, Mister," he said, suddenly, "you're in a bad scrape, ain't you?"

"I beg your pardon? What? Yes, I am--I fear I am. Is it--is it a VERY
long walk back to Wellmouth?"

"To the Centre? Three good long Cape Cod miles."