"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. News had come regularly to Hopewell Drugg from the teachers at the school where little Lottie had taken up her abode. Because the child was naturally so bright, and because of the fact that before she lost her eyesight she had learned the alphabet and some primary studies, and had not forgotten it all, Lottie was making marvelous progress the teachers declared. A much-bethumbed envelope, addressed in crooked "printed" characters to "Mis Janis Day, Pokton," enclosed in a teacher's letter to the storekeeper, was the cover of Janice's love letter. Inside, the child said: "Dear Janis, jus' to think, I can see reel good, and my techur what I luv says maybe I will heer reel good bymeby. "Deer Janis, I no I cante spel good yet, and my ritin aint strate on the paper. But I want you shud be the firs to get leter from me I luv yu so. "Deer Janis, you got me the muney for the docker. And he was soo good himself, he never hardly hurt me a tall. "Deer Janis, I luv yu mos of all, cos if yu hadn ben yu I wudn never seen no moar. An it was so dark all times. Thats wy I feld down cellar. An now I am goin to heer they say.