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"I'll get some good out of that plush sofy I helped to pay for," declared Angeline, "if it's only to wear it out by settin' on it." There are two "antiques" in Bayport which have not yet been sold or even bid for. One is Gabe Lumley's "depot wagon," and the other is "Dan'l Webster," the horse which draws it. Both are very ancient, sadly in need of upholstery, and jerky of locomotion.
Let him start out twice a week with a load of hats and oilskins and belts and children's shovels and pails all the sort of stuff the boarders and cottage folks buy and that they'd buy more of if it was brought right to their doors and he'll catch a heap of trade that goes to Bayport or Wellmouth or The Emporium now. What he don't carry he can take orders for and deliver next trip.
Particularly impressive and significant was a map of the district hanging over the congressman's desk, and an oil painting of the Atkins mansion at Bayport, which, with the iron dogs and urns conspicuous in its foreground, occupied the middle of the largest wall space.
He lit the lantern once more and, getting out of the carryall, discovered that the road apparently ended at a rail fence that barred further progress. "Queer," he said. "We must be pretty nigh civilization. Got to Bayport, most likely, Hannah; there seems to be a buildin' ahead of us there. I'm goin' to take the lantern and explore. You set still till I come back."
"You sartin do!" replied Asaph emphatically. "A body 'd think you'd been diggin' clams and pickin' cranberries in Bassett's Holler all your life long, to hear you." "You bet! Well, that's pride; that's what that is. I prided myself on hangin' to the Bayport twang through thick and thin.
I'll ask her." "No, no," hastily. "You needn't. If they ain't been since one they ain't been. But I don't understand. . . . There's no other lawyer nigh here, is there?" "No; none nearer than Bayport." "My land! My LAND! Then then I'm out of soundin's somehow. They never came for it, after all." "Came for what?" "Nothin', nothin', I guess," with a sickly smile.
As a matter of fact he met the Coltons' chauffeur in the motor car and the chauffeur invited him to go to Bayport with him. The chauffeur had an errand there. Lute accepted as he says, automobile rides don't come his way every day in the week and they had trouble with the engine and did not get back until almost night.
The party in the carriage was a gay one. "Getting tired, captain?" asked Peabody. "Who? Me? Well, I guess not. 'Most home, Bos'n. There's the salt works ahead there." They passed the abandoned salt works, the crumbling ruins of a dead industry, and the boundary stone, now half hidden in a drift, marking the beginning of Bayport township.
This remark, and subsequent similar declarations, were widely quoted, and, therefore, though casual visitors may refer to the "Bayport Hotel," to us natives the Bangs residence is always "Keturah's perfect boarding house." As for the sign's affirmation of Mr. Bangs proprietorship, that is considered the cream of the joke.
It had been untenanted for a good while and was in rather bad repair. Mary arranged with the owner, a Bayport man, to lease this house and land at a small rental for three years. In the lease was included consent to the making of necessary alterations and repairs and the privilege of purchasing, at a price therein named, at the end of the three years, should the tenant wish to do so.
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