The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1913-07-07

''She's dead this four year. What are you resurrectip' her for?''
 "Land! You're peppery as a West Injy omelet this mornin'. Let me alone till I've finished. His wife when she was alive, she was proud too. And his daughter Alicia, she's eight year old now, and by and by she'll be grown up into high toned young wo- man. We'll, Heman is fursighted, and s'pose likely he's thinkin' of the days when there'1I be young rich fellers- senators and-and-wel1, counts and lords, maybe-cru1sin' down here courttn' her. presume he don't want those swells to sit on his front piazza and see the crows buildin' nests in the ruins acrost the road. If there's sale for taxes he wants to be fuSt bidder. Then when the place is his he can tear down or rebuild, just as he sees fit. Seer"
 'FYes, see. We'll, feel about that the way Joe Dfmick felt when he heard the doctor had told Elviry Pep per she must stop singin' in the choir or lose her voice altogether. -WMch- ever happens Il be an improvement says Cap'n Joe. and whatever Heman does Fl help the Whitaker place.
 
 ''Nothin.' We can't decide yet. We ain't sure about the law. and we want to wait a spell, anyhow. But know how twin end Atkins Fl get the place. He always gets what he wants, He man does"
 ''Well," sighed MT. Bangs, ESQ that'n be the end of, the old Whitaker place, hey? Sho, things change in a feller's lifetime, don't they2 You and me can remember. Ase, when Cap'n Cy Whit taker was one of the biggest men we had in this town So was his dad afore him, the Cap'n Cy that built the house. wonder the looks of things here now don't bring them two up out of their graves. Do you remem- Der young Cy-'Whit' we used to call him, or Reddy Whit count of his red hafr?'
 "Remember Whit? We'll. should say I did. He was a holy terror yes, sir! Want no monkey shines or didos cut up in this town that young Cy want into. F'ur's that goes, you and me was in lem, too. Bailey. We was all holy terrors then Young ones nowadays ain't got the spunk we used to have"
 His friend chuckled.
 >tThat's so,'' he. declared, that's so. Whit was a good hearted boy, too, but full of the Old Scratch and as sot in his ways as his dad. and if Cap'n Cy want sot then there ain't no sot- ness. You'll go to college and be parson.' says the cap'n- I'll go to sea and be sailor, same as you done,' says Whit And he did. too. run away one night, took the packet to Boston and shipped aboard an Australian clip per. Cap'n Cy didn't go after him to fetch him home. No sir-ee-not a fetch. Sent him letter plumb to Melbourne, and, says he: You've made your bed; now lay in it Don't you never dast to come back to me or your ma,' he says. And Whit didn't: he want that kind.'
 Pretty nigh killed the old lady Whit's ma-that did,s unused Asaph. @sShe died.a little spell afterward. And the old man pined away, too, but he never give in or asked the boy to come back. Stubborn as all get out to the end he was and wi11ed the place, all he had left, to them Howes folks. And a nice mess they made of it. Young Cy he"-
 Young Cyr' interrupted Bailey. e'We're always callin' him young Cy,' and yet when you come to think of it he must be pretty nigh ffty-fve now. most as old as you and be. Wonder if he'll ever come back hereP'
 ''You bet he won'tP' was the oracular reply. Hes made ali kinds of money, they say, out of hides and such. What he ever bought his dads old place for l can't see. He'll never come back to these common, one horse attitudes, now you mark my word on that!" | Bailey chuckled again.
 l I've was a spunky, daredevil lot in l the old days, want we, AseT' he said. H'Spunk was kind of born in us, as you bnight say And even now we're'-
 The Atkins tower clock boomed once, l a solemn, digni1ed stroke. MT. rid | ditt and his companion started and looked at each other.
 Godfrey scfssorst'' gasped Asaph. 'Is that half past 12T'
 MT. Bangs pulled a big worn silver watch from his pocket and glanced at 1 the dial
 ~It isr' he moaned. 'As sure's you're oorn it Isl We've kept Ketury's din- Aer wattin' twenty minutes. Xou and me are in for 1t now, Ase Tidditt! i Twenty minutes late! She'll skin us aliveE"
 MT. Tidditt did not pause to answer, but plunged headlong down the hill at 1 A race horse gait. Bailey pounding at his heels. For ''born daredevi1s,'' self confessed, they were nervous and apprehensive pair.
 The perfect boarding house. is sit- pated quarter of a mile beyond I WhittakeH's hill, nearly opposite the EaIters homestead. The sign, hung on the pole by the front gate, reads, ''Bayport Hotel, Bailey Bangs Pro- prietor.'' but no one except the stran- ger in Bayport accepts that sign seri- ously. When, owing to an unexpected change in the administration at Wash ington, MT. Bangs was obliged to re linquish his position as our village postmaster his wife came to the res cue with the proposal that they open a hoardinO ho11sa EWhafSoe'er <Vou