Good-night." I was by no means so sure of the good time.

In fact, I loitered on my way to the village and it was well past eight o'clock when I paid my fifteen cents admission fee to Elnathan Mullet at the gate of the church grounds and sauntered up the slope toward the lights and gaiety of the strawberry festival.
The ladies of the Methodist society, under whose management the affair was given, were fortunate in their choice of an evening.

The early risen moon shone from a cloudless sky and there was so little breeze that the Japanese lanterns, hung above the tables, went out only occasionally.
The "beauty and elite of Denboro"-- see next week's Cape Cod Item--were present in force and, mingling with them, or, if not mingling, at least inspecting them with interest, were some of the early arrivals among the cottagers from South Denboro and Bayport.

I saw Lute, proudly conscious of his new lavender trousers, in conversation with Matilda Dean, and I wondered who was the winner in that wordy race.

Captain Jedediah strutted arm in arm with the minister.