tide, shoals, dark, and an overdose of foolishness, the boat had upset
and foundered and the Lamonts had waded half a mile or so to shore.
Once on dry land, they'd headed up the bluff for the only port in sight,
which was the poorhouse--although they didn't know it.

The widow and Asaph made 'em as comfortable as they could; rigged 'em
up in dry clothes which had belonged to departed paupers, and got 'em
something to eat. The Lamonts was what they called "enchanted" with the
whole establishment.

"This," says the colonel, with his mouth full of brown bread, "is
delightful, really delightful. The New England hospitality that we read
about. So free from ostentation and conventionality."

When you stop to think of it, you'd scurcely expect to run acrost much
ostentation at the poorhouse, but, of course, the colonel didn't know,
and he praised everything so like Sam Hill, that the widow was ashamed
to break the news to him. And Ase kept quiet, too, you can be sure of
that. As for Mabel, she was one of them gushy, goo-gooey kind of girls,
and she was as struck with the shebang as her dad. She said the house
itself was a "perfect dear."

And after supper they paired off and got to talking, the colonel with
Mrs. Badger, and Asaph with Mabel. Now, I can just imagine how Ase
talked to that poor, unsuspecting young female. He sartin did love an
audience, and here was one that didn't know him nor his history, nor
nothing. He played the sad and mysterious. You could see that he was a
blighted bud, all right. He was a man with a hidden sorrer, and the way
he'd sigh and change the subject when it come to embarrassing questions
was enough to bring tears to a graven image, let alone a romantic girl