“The clerk sent this up to you, sir,” he said. “It came a week ago. When you went away, you didn't leave any address, and whatever letters came for you were sent back to Bayport, Massachusetts. The clerk says you registered from there, sir. But he kept this telegram. It was in your box, and the day clerk forgot to give it to you this afternoon.” The captain tore open the envelope. The telegram was from his lawyer, Mr. Peabody. It was dated a week before, and read as follows: “Come home at once. Important.” CHAPTER XX DIVIDED HONORS The blizzard began that night. Bayport has a generous allowance of storms and gales during a winter, although, as a usual thing, there is more rain than snow and more wind than either. But we can count with certainty on at least one blizzard between November and April, and about the time when Captain Cy, feverish and ill, the delayed telegram in his pocket and a great fear in his heart, boarded the sleeper of the East-bound train at Washington, snow was beginning to fall in our village. Next morning, when Georgianna came downstairs to prepare Bos'n's breakfast--the housekeeper had ceased to “go home nights” since the captain's absence--the world outside was a tumbled, driving whirl of white. The woodshed and barn, dimly seen through the smother, were but gray shapes, emerging now and then only to be wiped from the vision as by a great flapping cloth wielded by the mighty hand of the wind. The old house shook in the blasts, the windowpanes rattled as if handfuls of small shot were being thrown against them, and the carpet on the floor of the dining room puffed up in miniature billows. School was out of the question, and Bos'n, her breakfast eaten, prepared to put in a cozy day with her dolls and Christmas playthings. “When DO you s'pose Uncle Cyrus will get home?” she asked of the housekeeper. She had asked the same thing at least three times a day during the fortnight, and Georgianna's answer was always just as unsatisfactory: “I don't know, dearie, I'm sure. He'll be here pretty soon, though, don't you fret.” “Oh, I ain't going to fret. I know he'll come. He said he would, and Uncle Cy always does what he says he will.” About twelve Asaph made his appearance, a white statue. “Godfrey scissors!” he panted, shaking his snow-plastered cap over the coal hod. “Say, this is one of 'em, ain't it? Don't know's I ever see more of a one. Drift out by the front fence pretty nigh up to my waist. This 'll be a nasty night along the Orham beach. The lifesavers 'll have their hands full. Whew! I'm about tuckered out.” “Been to the post office?” asked Georgianna in a low tone. “Yup. I been there. Mornin' mail just this minute sorted. Train's two hours late. Gabe says more'n likely the evenin' train won't be able to get through at all, if this keeps up.” “Was there anything from--” Mr. Tidditt glanced at Bos'n and shook his head.