She tripped up the steps in advance and opened the green slatted door. It was cool and dark in the hall, promising an interior speckless and flyless. There was barely light enough by which the two men might stumble up the ingrain-carpeted stair. Pearl threw open the door of the guest room with a flourish. Its white and blue braided mats and counterpane to match, made the darkened chamber seem invitingly cool. Pearl seized the blue-banded water pitcher and went down to the pump while Cap'n Jonah paid Washy for his assistance. She returned with the brimming pitcher and a cake of home-molded soap. There were already towels hanging upon the washstand rack. "You come right down, sir, when you've freshened up," the girl said. "I'll put the coffee pot over and you can sample the doughnuts. Miz Petty and the others won't be home till late, like enough." "All right, my gal," replied Cap'n Jonah. "But don't you go for to put yourself out none. I've seen lots worse quarters than these, I do assure you." She descended the stairs and closed the door after Washy, who was already trundling the barrow down the lane. She desired to ask a few questions of the gossipy Mr. Gallup about Cap'n Jonah Hand; but she would not run after Washy. Taking down the remainder of the clotheslines' burden she pressed down the running-over basket and, seizing it by its two handles, started for the kitchen door. The basket was so big and the wash so bulky that Pearl was very nearly hidden from sight as she came up the steps of the porch. Cap'n Jonah had quickly made his toilet and found his way down to the kitchen. Pearl heard the latch of the screen door lifted and his voice say: "You've got consider'ble of a haul there, ain't you?" She set the basket down on one of the broad tables, panting and laughing. Her indignation seemed to have evaporated. The sunbonnet had fallen back, hanging by its strings tied under her chin. She had a lot of fluffy hair, and it was braided in two plaits which hung below her waist. Hers was not a childish looking face, however, for her eyes had a steady, direct expression and her lips were molded in firm lines. "How old be you, gal?" asked the captain. "Goin' on eighteen. Miz Petty makes out I'm not seventeen yet. But I remember how old I was when I came here, and I know she can't keep me after I'm eighteen, if I don't want to stay." "I take it you're not happy 'long o' Sarah Petty?" "Do you reckon anybody'd be happy with Miz Petty? Tom's the only person on top of this foot-stool she's re'lly fond of; and she 'most nags him to death." "Hum!" commented the captain. There did not seem much else to say. Yet, for the sake of sociability, he ventured: "So you'd like to get away from Sarah?"