The old horse pricked up his ears at sight of home and the buggy moved faster.  It rolled through the main street, where the Captain and Mr. Hamilton were kept busy answering hails and returning bows from citizens, male and female.  Through the more thickly settled portion of the village it moved, until at a point where there were fewer shops and the houses were older and less up-to-date, it reached the corner of a narrow cross road.  There it stopped before a frame building bearing the sign, “Hamilton and Company, Dry Goods, Groceries, Boots and Shoes and Notions.”  There was a narrow platform at the front of the building and upon this platform were several men, mostly of middle age or older.  Mary-’Gusta noticed that most of these men were smoking.  If she had been older she might have noticed that each man either sat upon the platform steps or leaned against the posts supporting its roof.  Not one was depending solely upon his own muscles for support; he sat upon or leaned against something wooden and substantial.

As the buggy drew alongside the platform the men evinced considerable interest.  Not enough to make them rise or relinquish support, but interest, nevertheless.

“Hello, Shad!” hailed one.  “Home again, be you?”

“Pretty big funeral, was it?” drawled another.

“Who’s that you got aboard?” queried a third.

Captain Shadrach did not answer.  Mr. Hamilton leaned forward.  “Where’s Annabel?” he asked.

“She’s inside,” replied the first questioner.  “Want to see her?  Hi, Jabe,” turning his head and addressing one of the group nearest the door, “tell Annabel, Zoeth and Shad’s come.”

“Jabe,” who was propped against a post, languidly pushed himself away from it, opened the door behind him and shouted:  “Annabel, come out here!” Then he slouched back and leaned against the post again.

The door opened and a stout, red-faced young woman appeared.  She looked much more like an Eliza than an Annabel.  She had a newspaper in her hand.

“Hey?” she drawled.  “Who was that hollerin’?  Was it you, Jabez Hedges?”

Jabez did not take the trouble to answer.  Instead he took a hand from his trousers pocket and waved it toward the buggy.  Annabel looked; then she came down the steps.

“Hello!” she said.  “I see you got back all right.”

Zoeth nodded.  “How’d you get along in the store?” he asked, anxiously.  “How’s business?”

“Wasn’t none to speak of,” replied Annabel carelessly.  “Sold a couple of spools of cotton and—­and some salt pork and sugar.  Ezra Howland bought the pork.  He wasn’t satisfied; said there wasn’t enough lean in it to suit him, but I let him have it a cent cheaper, so he took it.”

Mr. Hamilton seemed a trifle disappointed.  “Was that all?” he asked, with a sigh.

“Yup.  No, ’twa’n’t neither, come to think of it.  Rastus Young’s wife, come in with her two young-ones and bought some shoes and hats for ’em.”