Thankful interrupted.

“Enlargin’ it!” she repeated.  “Mercy sakes!  What for?  I should think ’twas large enough now!”

Heman smiled tolerantly.  “To us—­the ordinary—­er—­citizens, it might appear so,” he observed.  “But the—­er—­New York ideas is broader than the average Cape Codder’s, if you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Barnes.  Mr. Kendrick has begun to spend money here already, and he will doubtless spend more.  He contemplates public improvements as well as private.  He asked me what sort of spirit there was in our community.  Ahem!”

He paused, apparently to let the importance of the announcement sink in.  It sank, or seemed to.  Mr. Hammond, however, was somewhat puzzled.

“Now what do you cal’late he meant by that?” he queried.

John Kendrick answered.  He and Emily had exchanged smiles.  Neither of them seemed as deeply impressed with the Daniels proclamation as the others of the group.

“Perhaps he wanted to buy a drink,” suggested John, gravely.

Miss Timpson was shocked; her expression showed it.  Caleb Hammond did not seem to know whether to be shocked or not; the Hammond appreciation of a joke generally arrived on a later train.  Mrs. Barnes and Captain Obed laughed, but not too heartily.

Mr. Daniels did not laugh.  The frivolous interruption evidently jarred him.

“I scarcely imagine that to be the reason,” he said, drily.  “If Mr. E. Holliday Kendrick does indulge I guess likely—­that is, I presume he would not find it necessary to buy his—­er—­beverages here.  He meant public spirit, of course.  He asked me who our leading men were.”

“Who were they—­the others, I mean?” asked John.

Emily rubbed away a smile with her handkerchief.  Heman noticed her action, and his color brightened.

“They were public,” he said, rather sharply.  “They were men of standing—­long standing in the community.  Prominent and prosperous citizens, who have lived here long enough for East Wellmouth to know them—­and respect them.”

This was a shot in the bull’s eye.  Miss Timpson evidently thought so, for she nodded approval.  Daniels continued.

“They were men of known worth,” he went on.  “Practical citizens whose past as well as present is known.  Your cousin—­I believe he is your cousin, Kendrick, although he did not mention the relationship—­was grateful to me for giving him their names.  He is a practical man, himself.”

John nodded.  “He must be,” he admitted.  “No one but a practical man could get all that advice, free, from a lawyer.”

Captain Obed laughed aloud.

“That’s a good one,” he declared.  “Lawyers ain’t in the habit of givin’ much, ‘cordin’ to all accounts.  How about it, Heman?”

Mr. Daniels ignored the question and the questioner.  He rose to his feet.

“There are some lawyers,” he observed, crisply, “whose advice is not asked—­to any great extent.  I—­I think I will join the group on the beach.  It’s a beautiful evening.  Won’t you accompany me, Miss Howes?”