He spoke but once during the remainder of the trip to the "Center." Then, when his passenger begged to know if "that Whittaker man" had been well since she left, he shouted: "Yes--EVER since," and relapsed into his former gloomy silence.
The widow's stop at the Atwood house, which was in the immediate rear of the Atwood store, was of a half hour's duration.

Bailey refused to leave the seat of the sulky and sat there, speaking to no one; not even replying to the questions of a group of loungers who gathered to inspect the ancient vehicle, and professed to be in doubt as to whether it had been washed in with the tide or been "left" to him in a will.
At last Debby made her appearance, her arms filled with newspapers.

The latter she piled under the carriage seat, and then climbed to her former place beside the driver.

Henry, in response to a slap from the reins, got under way once more.

The axles squeaked and screamed.
"Gee!" cried one youngster, from the steps of the store.