So Sarah Petty thought. That was one reason why Pearl had been left at home. Mrs. Orrin Petty wanted no poor relation tagging them around at the fair. Besides, Pearly's skimpy wardrobe might be difficult to explain in the light of the rest of the family flaunting their Sunday best. Mrs. Petty was a little, trig, birdlike woman, with all the scrappy temper of that curse of birddom, the English sparrow. She hopped out of the autocar, paid Willy Peebles his fare to a penny--and no more--and went into the house clacking smart heels, while Orrin and Tom followed more slowly, laden with samples, prize packets, catalogs, and that wealth of useless lumber always to be gathered at a county fair. The menfolk were rather glum. Orrin because of the heavy expenses of the day; Tom for a secret trouble that bore upon his soul. But Sarah Petty was as spry and spiteful as usual. "What I want to know first of all, Pearl Holden, is why them blinds is open?" she demanded bustling into the house. Pearl was just rolling the last piece of the huge wash into a hard damp ball, and she tucked it down into the tightly packed basket with vigor. She asked, however, quite mildly: "What blinds, Miz Petty?" "Them best room blinds, with the sun pourin' in all aft'noon onto my new rugs and that counterpane." "I didn't know he did that," said Pearl composedly. "Who d'you mean--'he'?" Then she almost screamed as she saw the empty plates and the coffee pot. "Who you been feedin', Pearl Holden? At my expense, too, and jest as soon as my back's turned. Some tramp?" "It's your uncle," Pearl explained, and it seemed that for once Mrs. Petty could neither irritate nor browbeat her. "My what?" "Your Uncle Jonah. Cap'n Jonah Hand," said Pearl placidly. "He's come to stop a spell. Brought his chest. Him and Washy Gallup took it up to the best chamber." "Them two tramps a-trackin' up the front stairs and that best room?" shrieked Mrs. Petty, falling into a kitchen chair and staring at Pearl as though she thought the girl had taken leave of her senses. "Where would you have me put your uncle? In the woodshed?" asked Pearl, with much more courage than usual. "He looks perfectly respectable to me. And he's your own uncle." "Who's this is your own uncle?" demanded Orrin Petty, coming heavily into the kitchen and piling his armful of trash on the table. "Jonah Hand. You've heard of him enough, Orrin Petty," said his wife rather breathlessly. "And you'll remember he was here once--years ago, when Tommy was a baby." "That's all right, then," said her husband. "He don't visit often." "But he writ me last year he thought of givin' up follerin' the sea and comin' here to Cardhaven to settle down." "Goshamighty!" "I never thought the old fool would take me up," said Sarah Petty viciously. "But I wrote him he'd be welcome." "You _did_? Was you crazy?" demanded Orrin, his pale eyes suddenly firing. "You reckon on havin' your pauper relations come here to live on us?"