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Updated: June 28, 2025
He scowled on the Cap'n's increasing perturbation. "A man is a darned fool to fight a polecat, Cap'n Sproul, and you ought to have known better than to let drive at him as you did." "She didn't call names, did she?" asked the Cap'n. "Call names! Of course she didn't call names. Didn't have to. There's the difference between scandal and occultin'. We can't get no bind on her for what she said.
"You start in to arrest me and you'll arrest two miles straight up above here, travellin' a hundred miles a minit." "There ain't any grit in him, Nute," mumbled Cap'n Sproul. "Jest give a whoop and dash on him." "That sounds glib and easy," demurred the prudent officer, "but if that man hasn't gone clean loony then I'm no jedge. I don't reckon I'm goin' to charge any batteries."
The last batch of letters of invitation, distributed among those lower levels of notability, elicited the most interesting autograph letters of all; eleven notables accepted the invitation to deliver the oration of the day; a dozen or so announced that they would be present and speak on topics connected with the times, and one and all assured Captain Aaron Sproul that they thoroughly appreciated his courtesy, and looked forward to a meeting with much pleasure, and trusted, etc., etc.
She went down the shaded aisle between the orange-trees, Mrs. Sproul looking after her dubiously, as a person guilty of a serious breach of decorum in asking to see any one alone. Melissa leaned on her hoe, and watched her approach with listless amazement.
Cap'n Sproul merely shot one red glance over his shoulder, and then proceeded with his arraignment of Vienna in general mentally, morally, socially, politically, and commercially.
He was on the outside, and leaped up, stepped on Cap'n Sproul, and sprang for the ladder. The Cap'n was quick enough to grab his legs, yank him back into the boat, and mount over him in his turn. The man of the faded cap was nearly stunned by Ward falling on him, and the rowers lost their oars.
Flanked by a roaring fire and howling crowd, and bombarded in the rear, even a horse with a bone spavin and the heaves will exhibit the spirit of Bucephalus. One of the rotten reins broke at Marengo's first terrified tug. In less time than it takes to tell, Cap'n Aaron Sproul, desperate and beholding only one resource the tail flaunting over the dasher seized it and gave a seaman's sturdy pull.
"End it up, 'And still he lies," growled Cap'n Sproul. But the thin man meekly evaded the sarcasm. "That would be a repetition of the rhyme," he objected. "I see you were right when you said you did not write poetry." "P'r'aps I ain't no poet," cried the Cap'n, bridling. "But I'm the first selectman of this town, and I've got considerable to do with runnin' it and keepin' things straightened out.
He had secured the implement and tossed out the first shovelful. There were plenty of willing volunteers. They paid no attention to the widow's reproaches. All who could, toiled with shovels. Others lifted the dirt in buckets. At the end of half an hour Cap'n Sproul, who was deepest in the hole, uttered a sharp exclamation.
The first ones he ventured to submit to the Cap'n before sealing them. But the chairman of the committee contemptuously refused to read them or to sign. Therefore Mr. Tate did that service for his superior, signing: "Capt. Aaron Sproul, Chairman. Per Consetena Tate, Secretary."
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