"'Twould have been a better job," she observed, "if that camel thing
he was tellin' you about had stole that hat instead of his other shirt.
Don't you think so, Miss Martha?"

Meanwhile Galusha, ignorant of the comments concerning his appearance,
was strolling blithely along the road. His first idea had been to visit
the lighthouse, his next to walk to the village. He had gone but a
short distance, however, when another road branching off to the right
suggested itself as a compromise. He took the branch road.

It wound in and out among the little hills which he had noticed from
the windows and from the yard of the Phipps' house. It led past a little
pond, hidden between two of those hills. Then it led to the top of
another hill, the highest so far, and from that point Galusha paused to
look about him.

From the hilltop the view was much the same, but more extensive. The
ocean filled the whole eastern horizon, a shimmering, moving expanse of
blue and white, with lateral stretches of light and dark green. To the
south were higher hills, thickly wooded. Between his own hill and
those others was a small grove of pines and, partially hidden by it, a
weather-beaten building with a steeple, its upper half broken off. The
building, Galusha guessed, was an abandoned church. Now an old church in
the country suggested, naturally, an old churchyard. Toward the building
with half a steeple Mr. Bangs started forthwith.

There WAS a churchyard, an ancient, grass-grown burying ground, with
slate gravestones and weather-worn tombs. There were a few new stones,
gleaming white and conspicuous, but only a few. Galusha's trained eye,
trained by his unusual pastime of college days, saw at once that the