From that time on, the day had been somnolent, enlivened in the Carey household only by the solemn rite of paying the annual rent of the Yellow House.  The votive nosegay had been carefully made up, and laid lovingly by Nancy under Mother Hamilton’s portrait, in the presence not only of the entire family, but also of Osh Popham, who had called to present early radishes and peppergrass.

“I’d like to go upstairs with you when you get your boquet tied up,” he said, “because it’s an awful hot day, an’ the queer kind o’ things you do ’t this house allers makes my backbone cold!  I never suspicioned that Lena Hamilton hed the same kind o’ fantasmic notions that you folks have, but I guess it’s like tenant, like landlord, in this case!  Anyhow, I want to see the rent paid, if you don’t mind.  I wish’t you’d asked that mean old sculpin of a Hen Lord over; he owns my house an’ it might put a few idees into his head!”

In the afternoon Nancy took her writing pad and sat on the circular steps, where it was cool.  The five o’clock train from Boston whistled at the station a mile away as she gathered her white skirts daintily up and settled herself in the shadiest corner.  She was unconscious of the passing time, and scarcely looked up until the rattling of wheels caught her ear.  It was the station wagon stopping at the Yellow House gate, and a strange gentleman was alighting.  He had an unmistakable air of the town.  His clothes were not as Beulah clothes and his hat was not as Beulah hats, for it was a fine Panama with a broad sweeping brim.  Nancy rose from the steps, surprise dawning first in her eyes, then wonder, then suspicion, then conviction; then two dimples appeared in her cheeks.

The stranger lifted the foreign-looking hat with a smile and said, “My little friend and correspondent, Nancy Carey, I think?”

“My American Consul, I do believe!” cried Nancy joyously, as she ran down the path with both hands outstretched.  “Where did you come from?  Why didn’t you tell us beforehand?  We never even heard that you were in this country!  Oh!  I know why you chose the Fourth of July!  It’s pay day, and you thought we shouldn’t be ready with the rent; but it’s all attended to, beautifully, this morning!”

“May I send my bag to the Mansion House and stay a while with you?” asked Mr. Hamilton.  “Are the rest of you at home?  How are Gilbert and Kathleen and Julia and Peter?  How, especially, is Mother Carey?”

“What a memory you have!” exclaimed Nancy.  “Take Mr. Hamilton’s bag, please, Mr. Bennett, and tell them at the hotel that he won’t be there until after supper.”

It was a pleasant hour that ensued, for Nancy had broken the ice and there was plenty of conversation.  Then too, the whole house had to be shown, room by room, even to Cousin Ann’s stove in the cellar and the pump in the kitchen sink.

“I never saw anything like it!” exclaimed Hamilton.  “It is like magic!  I ought to pay you a thousand dollars on the spot!  I ought to try and buy the place of you for five thousand!  Why don’t you go into the business of recreating houses and selling them to poor benighted creatures like me, who never realize their possibilities?”