Cy Whittakers Place | Page 4

meeting house burned. But on the record the date, in Asaph's
handwriting, stands "Tuesday, May 10, 189-" and, as it happens, May
10 of that year fell on Wednesday, not Tuesday at all.
Keturah Bangs, who keeps "the perfect boarding house," says it was
Tuesday, because she remembers they had fried cod cheeks and
cabbage that day--as they have every Tuesday--and neither Mr. Tidditt
nor Bailey Bangs, Keturah's husband, was on hand when the dinner bell
rang. Keturah says she is certain it was Tuesday, because she
remembers smelling the boiled cabbage as she stood at the side door,
looking up the road to see if either Asaph or Bailey was coming. As for
Bailey, he says he remembers being late to dinner and his wife's
"startin' to heave a broadsides into him" because of it, but he doesn't
remember what day it was. This isn't surprising; Keturah's verbal
cannonades are likely to make one forgetful of trifles.
At any rate, whether Tuesday or Wednesday, it is certain that it was

quarter past twelve, according to the clock presented to the Methodist
Society by the Honorable Heman Atkins, when Asaph Tidditt came
down the steps of the townhall, after the selectmen's meeting, and saw
Bailey Bangs waiting for him on the opposite side of the road.
"Hello, Ase!" hailed Mr. Bangs. "You'll be late to dinner, if you don't
hurry. I was headin' for home, all sail sot, when I see you. What kept
you?"
"Town business, of course," replied Mr. Tidditt, with the importance
pertaining to his official position. "What kept YOU, for the land sakes?
Won't Ketury be in your wool?"
Bailey hasn't any "wool" worth mentioning now, and he had very little
more then, but he mopped his forehead, or the extension above it,
taking off his cap to do so.
"I cal'late she will," he said, uneasily. "Tell you the truth, Ase, I was up
to the store, and Cap'n Josiah Dimick and some more of 'em drifted in
and we got talkin' about the chances of the harbor appropriation, and
one thing or 'nother, and 'twas later'n I thought 'twas 'fore I knew it."
The appropriation from the government, which was to deepen and
widen our harbor here at Bayport, was a very vital topic among us just
then. Heman Atkins, the congressman from our district, had promised
to do his best for the appropriation, and had for a time been very
sanguine of securing it. Recently, however, he had not been quite as
hopeful.
"What's Cap'n Josiah think about the chances?" asked Asaph eagerly.
"Well, sometimes he thinks 'Yes' and then again he thinks 'No,'" replied
Bailey. "He says, of course, if Heman is able to get it he will, but if he
ain't able to, he--he--"
"He won't, I s'pose. Well, I can think that myself, and I don't set up to
be no inspired know-it-all, like Joe Dimick. He ain't heard from Heman
lately, has he?"

"No, he ain't. Neither's anybody else, so fur as I can find out."
"Oh, yes, they have. I have, for one."
Mr. Bangs stopped short in his double-quick march for home and
dinner, and looked his companion in the face.
"Ase Tidditt!" he cried. "Do you mean to tell me you've had a letter
from Heman Atkins, from Washin'ton?"
Asaph nodded portentously.
"Yes, sir," he declared. "A letter from the Honorable Heman G. Atkins,
of Washin'ton, D. C., come to me last night. I read it afore I turned in."
"You did! And never said nothin' about it?"
"Why should I say anything about it? 'Twas addressed to me as town
clerk, and was concernin' a matter to be took up with the board of
s'lectmen. I ain't in the habit of hollerin' town affairs through a speakin'
trumpet. Folks that vote for me town-meetin' day know that, I guess.
Angie Phinney says to me only yesterday, 'Mr. Tidditt,' says she,
'there's one thing I'll say for you--you don't talk.'"
Miss Phinney boarded with the Bangses, and Bailey was acquainted
with her personal peculiarities; for that matter so were most of
Bayport's permanent residents.
"Humph!" he snorted indignantly. "She thought 'twas a good thing not
to talk, hey? SHE did? Well, by mighty! you never get no CHANCE to
talk when she's around. Angie Phinney! Why, when that poll parrot of
hers died, Alph'us Smalley declared up and down that what killed it
was jealousy and disapp'inted ambition; he said it broke its heart tryin'
to keep up with Angie. Her ma was the same breed of cats. I
remember--"
The talking proclivities of females is the one topic upon which
Keturah's husband is touchiest. Asaph knew this, but he delighted to

stir up his chum occasionally. He chuckled as he interrupted the flow of
reminiscence.
"There, there, Bailey!"