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silver-bowed glasses; her thimble was on the narrow window-ledge, and folded carefully on the table was a thick striped-cotton shirt that she was making for her son. Those dear old fingers and their loving stitches, that heart which had made the most of everything that needed love! Here was the real home, the heart of the old house on Green Island! I sat in the rocking-chair, and felt that it was a place of peace, the little brown bedroom, and the quiet outlook upon field and sea and sky.

I looked up, and we understood each other without speaking. ā€œI shall like to think oā€™ your settinā€™ here today,ā€ said Mrs. Blackett. ā€œI want you to come again. It has been so pleasant for William.ā€

The wind served us all the way home, and did not fall or let the sail slacken until we were close to the shore. We had a generous freight of lobsters in the boat, and new potatoes which William had put aboard, and what Mrs. Todd proudly called a full ā€œkagā€ of prime number one salted mackerel; and when we landed we had to make business arrangements to have these conveyed to her house in a wheelbarrow.

I never shall forget the day at Green Island. The town of Dunnet Landing seemed large and noisy and oppressive as we came ashore. Such is the power of contrast; for the village was so still that I could hear the shy whippoorwills singing that night as I lay awake in my downstairs bedroom, and the scent of Mrs. Toddā€™s herb garden under the window blew in again and again with every gentle rising of the seabreeze.

XII A Strange Sail

Except for a few stray guests, islanders or from the inland country, to whom Mrs. Todd offered the hospitalities of a single meal, we were quite by ourselves all summer; and when there were signs of invasion, late in July, and a certain Mrs. Fosdick appeared like a strange sail on the far horizon, I suffered much from apprehension. I had been living in the quaint little house with as much comfort and unconsciousness as if it were a larger body, or a double shell, in whose simple convolutions Mrs. Todd and I had secreted ourselves, until some wandering hermit crab of a visitor marked the little spare room for her own. Perhaps now and then a castaway on a lonely desert island dreads the thought of being rescued. I heard of Mrs. Fosdick for the first time with a selfish sense of objection; but after all, I was still vacation-tenant of the schoolhouse, where I could always be alone, and it was impossible not to sympathize with Mrs. Todd, who, in spite of some preliminary grumbling, was really delighted with the prospect of entertaining an old friend.

For nearly a month we received occasional news of Mrs. Fosdick, who seemed to be making a royal progress from house to house in the inland neighborhood, after the fashion of Queen Elizabeth. One Sunday after another came and went, disappointing Mrs. Todd in the hope of seeing her guest at church and fixing the day for the great visit to begin; but Mrs. Fosdick was not ready to commit herself to a date. An assurance of ā€œsome time this weekā€ was not sufficiently definite from a free-footed housekeeperā€™s point of view, and Mrs. Todd put aside all herb-gathering plans, and went through the various stages of expectation, provocation, and despair. At last she was ready to believe that Mrs. Fosdick must have forgotten her promise and returned to her home, which was vaguely said to be over Thomaston way. But one evening, just as the supper-table was cleared and ā€œreadied up,ā€ and Mrs. Todd had put her large apron over her head and stepped forth for an evening stroll in the garden, the unexpected happened. She heard the sound of wheels, and gave an excited cry to me, as I sat by the window, that Mrs. Fosdick was coming right up the street.

ā€œShe may not be considerate, but sheā€™s dreadful good company,ā€ said Mrs. Todd hastily, coming back a few steps from the neighborhood of the gate. ā€œNo, she ainā€™t a mite considerate, but thereā€™s a small lobster left over from your tea; yes, itā€™s a real mercy thereā€™s a lobster. Susan Fosdick might just as well have passed the compliment oā€™ cominā€™ an hour ago.ā€

ā€œPerhaps she has had her supper,ā€ I ventured to suggest, sharing the housekeeperā€™s anxiety, and meekly conscious of an inconsiderate appetite for my own supper after a long expedition up the bay. There were so few emergencies of any sort at Dunnet Landing that this one appeared overwhelming.

ā€œNo, sheā€™s rode ā€™way over from Nahum Braytonā€™s place. I expect they were busy on the farm, and couldnā€™t spare the horse in proper season. You just sly out anā€™ set the teakittle on again, dear, anā€™ drop in a good hanā€™ful oā€™ chips; the fireā€™s all alive. Iā€™ll take her right up to lay off her things, as sheā€™ll be occupied with explanations anā€™ gettinā€™ her bunnit off, so youā€™ll have plenty oā€™ time. Sheā€™s one I shouldnā€™t like to have find me unprepared.ā€

Mrs. Fosdick was already at the gate, and Mrs. Todd now turned with an air of complete surprise and delight to welcome her.

ā€œWhy, Susan Fosdick,ā€ I heard her exclaim in a fine unhindered voice, as if she were calling across a field, ā€œI come near giving of you up! I was afraid youā€™d gone anā€™ ā€™portioned out my visit to somebody else. I sā€™pose youā€™ve been to supper?ā€

ā€œLorā€™, no, I ainā€™t, Almiry Todd,ā€ said Mrs. Fosdick cheerfully, as she turned, laden with bags and bundles, from making her adieux to the boy driver. ā€œI ainā€™t had a mite oā€™ supper, dear. Iā€™ve been lottinā€™ all the way on a cup oā€™ that best tea oā€™ yournā ā€”some oā€™ that Oolong you keep in the little chist. I donā€™t want none oā€™ your useful herbs.ā€

ā€œI keep that tea for ministersā€™ folks,ā€ gayly responded Mrs. Todd. ā€œCome right along in, Susan Fosdick. I declare if

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