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Often and often in his letters do we find references to the subject; either he regrets having to miss seeing the general, upon one of his Northern trips, or he rejoices in falling in with some of the teachers at Asquam Lake or elsewhere, or his note is jubilant over some new gift which will make the general's work for the year less difficult.
"But," he said rather mournfully, "I don't know whether I shall ever see any of them again, if we just keep on sailing and sailing. Are you going back to South America again?" The mate laughed a little. "No," he said. "The Celestine's going to Bedford. We can't put her off her course to drop you at Asquam harbor's no good, anyhow. My time's up when she docks. I'll take you home."
"You might have been disappointed. But she'll go and now I'll tell you what she and I are going to do!" On a morning late in May, a train pulled into the Bayside station, which was the rail terminal for travelers to Asquam, and deposited there a scattering of early summer folk and a pile of baggage.
The Asquam trolley-car was not in, and would not be for some twenty minutes; the passengers grouped themselves at the station, half wharf, half platform, and stared languidly at the bay, the warehouse, and the empty track down which the Asquam car might eventually be expected to appear.
But even the joy of April on the bayside was shadowed when the mail came to Applegate Farm that day. The United States mail was represented, in the environs of Asquam, by a preposterously small wagon, more like a longitudinal slice of a milk-cart than anything else, drawn by two thin, rangy horses that seemed all out of proportion to their load.
Ken came home late, whistling, up from Asquam. Trade for the Sturgis Water Line was heavy again just now; the hotels and cottages were being vacated every day, and more baggage than the Dutchman could carry lay piled in the Sturgis "warehouse" till next morning. Ken's whistle stopped as he swung into Winterbottom Road and began to climb the hill.
Supper was waiting at Applegate Farm, Ken knew, but the pie which was a cherry one, drippy and delectable was not to be resisted, after long hours on the water. He bit into it heartily as he left Asquam and swung into Pickery Lane. He hurried along, still wrapped in the atmosphere which had surrounded him all day.
Asquam, both new and old, presented a rather bleak and dismal appearance to three persons who alighted thankfully from the big trolley-car in which they had lurched through miles of flat, mist-hung country for the past forty minutes. The station-agent sat on a tilted-up box and discussed the new arrivals with one of his ever-present cronies. "Whut they standin' ther' fer?" he said.
It was a good letter that Kenelm sent Mr. Dodge, and the attorney shook his own head as he read it in his study, and said: "I admire your principle, my boy but oh, I pity your inexperience!" The City Transfer bill was paid; so were the other bills. Ken, on his way out from Asquam, stopped with a sudden light in his dogged face and turned back.
"One thing that he said, I noted: that his fancy was for farm-work, but he was not strong enough; he had as a young man some literary ambition, but never thought of attaining the reputation which had come to him. "July 31, 1883. I have had two or three rich days! On Friday last I went to Holderness, N.H., to the Asquam House; I had been asked by Mrs. T. to join her party.
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