“I cal'late she will,” he said, uneasily. “Tell you the truth, Ase, I was up to the store, and Cap'n Josiah Dimick and some more of 'em drifted in and we got talkin' about the chances of the harbor appropriation, and one thing or 'nother, and 'twas later'n I thought 'twas 'fore I knew it.” The appropriation from the government, which was to deepen and widen our harbor here at Bayport, was a very vital topic among us just then. Heman Atkins, the congressman from our district, had promised to do his best for the appropriation, and had for a time been very sanguine of securing it. Recently, however, he had not been quite as hopeful. “What's Cap'n Josiah think about the chances?” asked Asaph eagerly. “Well, sometimes he thinks 'Yes' and then again he thinks 'No,'” replied Bailey. “He says, of course, if Heman is able to get it he will, but if he ain't able to, he--he--” “He won't, I s'pose. Well, _I_ can think that myself, and I don't set up to be no inspired know-it-all, like Joe Dimick. He ain't heard from Heman lately, has he?” “No, he ain't. Neither's anybody else, so fur as I can find out.” “Oh, yes, they have. _I_ have, for one.” Mr. Bangs stopped short in his double-quick march for home and dinner, and looked his companion in the face. “Ase Tidditt!” he cried. “Do you mean to tell me you've had a letter from Heman Atkins, from Washin'ton?” Asaph nodded portentously. “Yes, sir,” he declared. “A letter from the Honorable Heman G. Atkins, of Washin'ton, D. C., come to me last night. I read it afore I turned in.” “You did! And never said nothin' about it?” “Why should I say anything about it? 'Twas addressed to me as town clerk, and was concernin' a matter to be took up with the board of s'lectmen. I ain't in the habit of hollerin' town affairs through a speakin' trumpet. Folks that vote for me town-meetin' day know that, I guess. Angie Phinney says to me only yesterday, 'Mr. Tidditt,' says she, 'there's one thing I'll say for you--you don't talk.'” Miss Phinney boarded with the Bangses, and Bailey was acquainted with her personal peculiarities; for that matter so were most of Bayport's permanent residents. “Humph!” he snorted indignantly. “She thought 'twas a good thing not to talk, hey? SHE did? Well, by mighty! you never get no CHANCE to talk when she's around. Angie Phinney! Why, when that poll parrot of hers died, Alph'us Smalley declared up and down that what killed it was jealousy and disapp'inted ambition; he said it broke its heart tryin' to keep up with Angie. Her ma was the same breed of cats. I remember--” The talking proclivities of females is the one topic upon which Keturah's husband is touchiest. Asaph knew this, but he delighted to stir up his chum occasionally. He chuckled as he interrupted the flow of reminiscence. “There, there, Bailey!” he exclaimed. “I know as much about Angie's tribe as you do, I cal'late. Ain't we a little mite off the course? Seems to me we was talkin' about Heman's letter.”