A week later the little spinster came home. Her visit in Boston seemed to have done her a world of good. She brought a great trunk packed full of things to wear, or goods to be made up into pretty dresses and the like. "I declare for't!" ejaculated her mother. "Looks like you had been buyin' your trossoo--an' old maid like you, too!" But Miss 'Rill was unruffled, and parried her mother's suspicion. When the lake boat, the _Constance Colfax_, began to run on her summer schedule after Decoration Day, many more summer tourists than usual got off the boat at Poketown to look about. The dock was so neat, and the surroundings of the landing so attractive, that these visitors were led to go further up into the town. There was the pleasant, rambling, old Lake View Inn, freshened with paint that spring, and with a green grass plot before it, and wide, screened verandas. "Why, it's only its name that is against it!" cried the wondering tourists. "It's not _poky_ at all." These remarks, repeated as they were, made the merchants of the village stop and think. Ere this a board of trade had been formed, and the welfare of the town was eagerly discussed at the meetings of the board. Mr. Massey, the druggist, who was active, of course, got another idea from Janice. He began to delve into the past history of Poketown. He learned how and when it had been settled--and by whom. People had mostly forgotten (if they ever had known) the true history of the town. A pioneer named Cyrus Polk had first built his cabin on the heights overlooking this little bay. He had been the first smith in this region, too, and gradually around "Polk's Smithy" had been reared the nucleus of the present town. Through the years the silent "l" in the original settler's name had been lost entirely. But the post office agreed to put it back into the name, and a big signboard was painted and set up at the dock: "POLKTOWN." "It sartain sure looks a hull lot diff'rent, even if ye _do_ pernounce it the same," admitted Walky Dexter. So much was happening these balmy June days! The school year--the first in the new schoolhouse--was going to end in a blaze of glory for Nelson Haley, Janice was sure. Elder Concannon had promised in writing to give his lot upon High Street for the site of a library building, whenever the association should have subscribed twelve hundred dollars toward the building itself. Then came the first love letter that Janice Day had ever received! Such a letter was it that she treasures it yet and will always do so. It was one that she could proudly show to anybody she chose, without betraying that intimacy that the ordinary love letter is supposed to contain.