There was a hoarse blast from the whistle and the steamer sidled in toward the wharf. Rodney Merrill, his brand new suitcase tightly clutched in his left hand and his ticket firmly held in his right, followed the dozen or so passengers who were crowding toward where three deck hands waited to push over the gangplank. As the _Henry Hudson_ edged up to the landing the main street of the little town came suddenly into view, leading straight up the hill at a discouraging angle until lost to sight behind the overhanging branches of great trees. Rodney thought he had never seen so many trees before. They were everywhere――elms, maples, beeches and oaks――hiding the houses spread up the side of the r…
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