spot, you know—”      

       “Haw, haw! South Wellmouth depot? It's worse'n lonesome, it's God-forsaken.”      

       “Yes—yes, it looked so. I should scarcely conceive of the Almighty's wishing to remain there long.”      

       “Eh?”      

       “Oh, it's not material. Pardon me. I inquired of the young man in charge of the—ah—station.”      

       “Nelse Howard? Yes, sure.”      

       “You know him, then?”      

       Mr. Pulcifer laughed. “Say,” he observed, patronizingly, “there's mighty few folks in this neighborhood I don't know. You bet that's right!”      

       “The young man—the station man—was very kind and obliging, very kind indeed. He informed me that there was no direct conveyance from the South Wellmouth station to Wellmouth—ah—Centre, but he prevailed upon the driver of the station—ah—vehicle—”      

       “Eh? You mean Lem Lovett's express team?”      

       “I believe the driver's name was Lovett—yes. He prevailed upon him to take me in his wagon as far as a crossroads where I was to be left. From there I was to follow another road—ah—on foot, you know—until I reached a second crossroad which would, he said, bring me directly into Wellmouth Middle—ah—Centre, I should say. He told me that Mr. Hall lived there.”      

       “Well, he told you wrong. Hall lives up to East Wellmouth. But what I can't get a-hold of is how you come to fetch up way off here. The Centre's three mile or more astern of us; I've just come from there.”      

       “Oh, dear me! I must have lost my way. I was quite sure of it. It seemed to me I had been walking a very long time.”      

       Mr. Pulcifer laughed. “Haw, haw!” he guffawed, “I should say you had! I tell you what you done, Mister; you walked right past that crossroad Nelse told you to turn in at. THAT would have fetched you to the Centre. Instead of doin' it you kept on as you was goin' and here you be 'way out in the fag-end of nothin'. The Centre's three mile astern and 

 Prev. P 8/371 next