During the evening, her sitting room, which Boyton and his party occupied, reviewing the incidents of the voyage, was overrun with fellows who stalked in and looked at "the show" just as if it was a menagerie of wild beasts into which they had free admission.
They gathered at the country store opposite and poured across the street, in sixes and sevens, like so many reliefs on army duty.

A gang would enter the sitting room occupying the chairs and sofa, look on with open mouths for ten or fifteen minutes and listen to what must have been enigmatical to them; then looking one at the other, the entire party would rise together, stalk back to the store, where they would relate their experience to others, who in turn would brace up and make a descent on the lion of the hour.

They did not rap for admittance, did not remove their hats on entering, did not wait to be asked to take a seat, did not say a word to anybody while present, did not say "good evening" when they went out--in fact did nothing but stare in the most ignorant and saucy manner.

An excuse may be made for there in the fact that Waterford is isolated from civilization, there being neither railroad nor telegraph communication with the outside world and few newspapers are ever seen to say nothing of being read.

Paul bore the inspection good naturedly and joked pleasantly as each "relief" went out.
Just before starting in the morning, an old gentleman met Boyton on the porch in front of the hotel and expressed real pleasure at meeting him--in fact, claimed close acquaintanceship.