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Updated: May 23, 2025
"Who is that handsome, foreign-looking fellow your friend is dancing with?" whispered one young lady, a guest at the hotel, to Miss Kelsey. Jane told her. "But he isn't a foreigner," she added. "He lives here in South Harniss all the year. He is a poet, I believe, and Madeline, who knows about such things inherits it from her mother, I suppose says his poetry is beautiful."
And he hired Issy because well, because "most folks in East Harniss are alike and you can always tell about what they'll say or do. Now Issy's different. The Lord only knows what HE'S likely to do, and that makes him interestin' as a conundrum, to guess at. He kind of keeps my sense of responsibility from gettin' mossy, Issy does." "Issy," hailed Mr. Phinney, "has the Cap'n got here yet?"
Nobody helped him; he did it all. He was a sea captain and a good one. He has been a business man and a good one, even if the business isn't so very big. Everybody here in South Harniss yes, and all up and down the Cape knows of him and respects him.
Then came the volunteering, and after that the draft, and the reality drew a little nearer. Work upon the aviation camp at East Harniss had actually begun. The office buildings were up and the sheds for the workmen. They were erecting frames for the barracks, so Gabriel Bearse reported.
But now it was I who questioned. "Do you like Denboro?" I asked. "I am beginning to like it very much. At first I thought it very dull, but now I am getting acquainted." "There are few cottagers and summer people here. But in Harniss there is a large colony. Very nice people, I believe." "Yes, I have met some of them. But it was not the summer people I meant.
A distant drone, which had been audible for some time, was gradually becoming a steady humming roar. A few moments later and a belated hydro-aeroplane passed across the face of the moon, a dragon-fly silhouette against the shining disk. "That bumble-bee's gettin' home late," observed Jed. "The rest of the hive up there at East Harniss have gone to roost two or three hours ago.
Every time Labe goes on a time seem's if trade was brisker'n it's been for a month. Seems as if all creation and part of East Harniss had been hangin' back waitin' till he had a shade on 'fore they come to trade. Makes a feller feel like votin' the Prohibition ticket. I WOULD vote it, by crimustee, if I thought 'twould do any good.
"Darn sure thing," he drawled. "I give in that it looks consider'ble like Boston, or Providence, R. I., or some of them capitols, but it ain't, it's South Harniss, Cape Cod." Doctor Holliday, on the back seat of the depot wagon, chuckled. Jim did not; he never laughed at his own jokes. And his questioner did not chuckle, either. "Does a does a Mr. Snow live here?" he asked.
He went out soon afterward and then Laban, turning to Albert, asked a few questions. "How do you think you're goin' to like South Harniss, Ansel?" he asked. Albert was tempted to reply that he, Keeler, had asked him that very question before, but he thought it best not to do so. "I don't know yet," he answered, carelessly. "Well enough, I guess." "You'll like it fust-rate bimeby.
Wyeth's comfortable house a home, although not of course to be compared with the real home at South Harniss at Mrs. Wyeth's she was more of a favorite than ever, not only with the mistress of the house, but with Miss Pease, who was considered eccentric and whose liking was reported hard to win. The two ladies had many talks concerning the girl.
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