The reference to “our great commonwealth” had been given in the voice and the manner wont to thrill us at our Fourth-of-July celebrations and October “rallies.” Two of his hearers, at least, were visibly impressed. Asaph looked somewhat crestfallen, but he surrendered gracefully to superior wisdom. “That's so,” he said. “That's so, ain't it, Cy? I hadn't thought of that.” “What's so?” asked the captain. “Why--why, that Wellmouth ain't Bayport.” “No doubt of it. They're twenty miles apart.” “Yes. Well, I'm glad to hear you put it so conclusive, Mr. Atkins. I can see now that Phoebe wouldn't do. Hum! Yes.” Mr. Atkins buttoned the frock coat and turned to go. “Good day, gentlemen,” he said. “Cyrus, permit me once more to welcome you heartily to our village. We--my daughter and myself--will probably remain at home until the fall. I trust you will be a frequent caller. Run in on us at any time. Pray do not stand upon ceremony.” “No,” said Captain Cy shortly, “I won't.” “That's right. That's right. Good morning.” He walked briskly down the hill. The trio gazed after him. “Well,” sighed Mr. Tidditt. “That's settled. And it's a comfort to know 'tis settled. Still I did kind of want Phoebe Dawes; but of course Heman knows best.” “Course he knows best!” snapped Bailey. “Ain't he the biggest gun in this county, pretty nigh? I'd like to know who is if he ain't. The committee 'll call the Normal School girl now, and a good thing, too.” Captain Cy was still gazing at the dignified form of the “biggest gun in the county.” “Let's see,” he asked. “Who's on the school committee? Eben Salters, of course, and--” “Yes. Eben's chairman and he'll vote Phoebe, anyhow; he's that pig-headed that nobody--not even a United States Representative--could change him. But Darius Ellis 'll be for Heman's way and so 'll Lemuel Myrick. “Lemuel Myrick? Lem Myrick, the painter?” “Sartin. There ain't but one Myrick in town.” “Hum!” murmured the captain and was silent for some minutes. The school committee met on the following Wednesday evening. On Thursday morning a startling rumor spread throughout Bayport. Phoebe Dawes had been called, by a vote of two to one, to teach the downstairs school. Asaph, aghast, rushed out of Simmons's store and up to the hill to the Cy Whittaker place. He found Captain Cy in the front yard. Mr. Myrick, school committeeman and house painter, was with him. “Hello, Ase!” hailed the captain. “What's the matter? Hasn't the tide come in this mornin'?” Asaph, somewhat embarrassed by the presence of Mr. Myrick, hesitated over his news. Lemuel came to his rescue. “Ase has just heard that we called Phoebe,” he said. “What of it? I voted for her, and I ain't ashamed of it.” “But--but Mr. Atkins, he--”