The summer when Harry was nine years old he was to be in Gloucester, an old Massachusetts town. Mother had already gone thither, with Brother Herbert and Baby. This is the same Harry you have before read about in this Journal, only he was now older. Baby Herbert had grown to be quite a boy, and the new baby was a girl, Lenny by name. Old Phebe remained in Boston to put things in order, and then shut up the house for the summer. Harry stayed in the city, for a fortnight more of schooling. Grandfather also remained in Boston, to attend to some business; and Harry was to go to Gloucester with him, because Mr. Ambleton could not find time to go there often, his store required so much of his attention.
Of course Harry was on tiptoes of expectation. He was to go in a steamboat, and he had never been on board a steamer in his life. Would it explode? What would happen to it? He could hardly wait for the day to come!
Now it had come! It was Saturday. In those days there was not a whole holiday on Saturday, as now, but the children had Wednesday and Saturday afternoons for their vacation. In summer, Boston schools formerly began at eight and let out at eleven; so he came home to dinner, hungry as a bear, an hour before noon. There was beefsteak for dinner. Harry liked beefsteak, and that was why his father had told the butcher to send some home; though Mr. Ambleton generally took his own dinner at an eatinghouse, near his countingroom.
