Heheardthedepotwagonrattlebyand，peeringfromthewindow，sawthat，exceptforMr。Lumley，itwasempty。Notevenasummerboarderhadcometobrightenourwaysandlawnswithrecklessraimentandthenewestslang。Summerboardingseasonwasalmostovernow。Bayportwouldsoonbeasdullasdishwater。AndthecaptainadmittedtohimselfthatitWASdull。HehadhalfamindtotakeaflyingtriptoBoston，maketheroundofthewharves，andseeifanyoftheoldshipownersandshipcaptainswhomhehadonceknownwerestillaliveandinharness。
“JINGLE！Jingle！JINGLE！Jingle！Jingle！Jing！Jing！Jing！”
CaptainCybouncedinhischair。Thatwasthefront-doorbell。
TheFRONT-doorbell！Whoonearth，or，rather，whoinBayport，wouldcometotheFRONTdoor？
Hehurriedthroughthedimgrandeurofthebestparlorandenteredthelittledarkfronthall。Thebellwasstillswingingattheendofitscoilofwire。Thedustshakenfromitstillhungintheair。Thecaptainunboltedandunlockedthebigfrontdoor。