We rattled along the main road, up the hill by the Whittaker place--I looked eagerly for a glimpse of Captain Cy himself, but I didn't see him--and on until we reached our gate. Frances said very little during our progress through the village. I did not dare speak to her; I was afraid of asking her how she liked what she had seen of Bayport. And Hephzy, too, was silent, although she kept her head out of the window most of the time. But when the depot wagon entered the big gate and stopped before the side door I felt that I must say something. I must not appear fearful or uneasy. “Here we are!” I cried, springing out and helping her and Hephzy to alight. “Here we are at last. This is home, dear.” And then the door opened and I saw that the dining-room was filled with people, people whom I had known all my life. Mr. Partridge, the minister, was there, and his wife, and Captain Whittaker and his wife, and the Dimicks and the Salterses and more. Before I could recover from my surprise Mr. Partridge stepped forward. “Mr. Knowles,” he said, “on this happy occasion it is our privilege to--” But Captain Cy interrupted him. “Good Lord!” he exclaimed, “don't make a speech to him now, Mr. Partridge. Welcome home, Kent! We're all mighty glad to see you back again safe and sound. And Hephzy, too. By the big dipper, Hephzy, the sight of you is good for sore eyes! And I suppose this is your wife, Kent. Well, we--Hey! I might have known Phoebe would get ahead of me.” For Mrs. Whittaker and Frances were shaking hands. Others were crowding forward to do so. And the table was set and there were flowers everywhere and, in the background, was Susanna Wixon, grinning from ear to ear, with the cat--our cat--who seemed the least happy of the party, in her arms. Hephzy had written Mrs. Whittaker from London, telling her of my marriage; she had telegraphed from New York the day before, announcing the hour of our return. And this was the result. When it was all over and they had gone--they would not remain for dinner, although we begged them to do so--when they had gone and Hephzy had fled to the yard to inspect the hens, I turned to my wife. “Frances,” I said, “this is home. Here is where Hephzy and I have lived for so long. I--I hope you may be happy here. It is a rather crude place, but--” She came to me and put her arms about my neck. “Don't, my dear, don't!” she said. “It is beautiful. It is home. And--and you know I have never had a home, a real home before.” “Then you like it?” I cried. “You really like it? It is so different from England. The people--” “They are dear, kind people. And they like you and respect you, Kent. How could you say they didn't! I know I shall love them all.” I made a dash for the kitchen. “Hephzy!” I shouted. “Hephzy! She does like it. She likes Bayport and the people and everything.” Hephzy was just entering at the back door. She did not seem in the least surprised.