During the week that followed Cyrus was deeply impressed by the importance of fresh air and exercise. It walked abroad, at all hours of the day. Young Cyrus scoured the six roads that centred in the happy village, hung over fences, scanning the countryside, loitered about the station at train time. Mature Cyrus was genteelly busy in its front garden, tying up rose-bushes and removing (in gloves!) rose-beetles. Young and old alike found much business to be done in the Street. Abram Hanks drove a brisk trade in spools of thread and other small wares. Now and then something unusual was asked for, as when Nelly Chanter wanted some white mull, for a purpose unspecified. "No, I ain't got any!" Mr. Hanks's tone expressed injury. "I had some, but them folks that was at the hotel last summer bought it all out on me!" There was a positive run on Cheeseman's candy store; Uncle Ivory was almost annoyed by it. "Look at here, Sty!" he said one morning. "'Pears to me you've eat all the toffee that's likely to agree with you real good. That pan was full yesterday, and now look at it! I can't make it every day, you know. You ask the girls to make you up a pan of molasses at home, if you have to _have_ any more!" Aristides Chanter did feel that he needed special sustenance in the way of sweets. He knew, in his sixteen-year-old heart, that no one loved Kitty as he did; and now that Bobby was engaged to Melissa--well, Rod was only two years older; he didn't see but he had full as good a right--and anyhow, Rod was at college, and if this fellow was coming, Kitty's friends ought to be on the lookout for him; he might be an impostor, like the Ducal Decoy in that bloodhound yarn. Anyhow, it was awful poky hanging about the station, waiting for every train. Pa wouldn't let a fellow smoke, and a fellow must do _something_! There was one person who haunted the station even more persistently than Aristides; this was Wilson Wibird. Wilson had become a rather deplorable figure in these days. He had resented bitterly Kitty's treatment of him on the occasion described in a previous chapter; he had also been badly frightened. Mr. Jordano might be a thought fantastic in certain aspects, but he was not a man to be trifled with; the stern admonition with which he had dismissed Wilson that day still rang in the ears of the rejected lover. "Keep out of that lady's way-tay-tay, or it will be the worse for you-too-too!" Wilson cowered under "Italio's" fiery glance, and slunk away, muttering curses that he dared not breathe aloud. Uncle Marshall had been equally severe, on hearing from his friend of the occurrence. He told his nephew plainly that if ever he heard of his pestering Kitty Ross again he would not only discharge him on the spot, but would flounce (trounce) him till he couldn't tell whether he was a bluenette or a blondin.