"Come Sunday mornin' he was up airly same as common," pursued Aunt Ardelia, "an' whad he see but Mrs. John-Ed puttin' the beanpot into the oven to warm up for breakfast! Smith, he was so mad, he never said a word but hiked right out cross-lots, intendin' to come home. But he come by Peter Littlefield's, an' Peter hailed him and he couldn't get away, and they sot him down to a big breakfast of pork _an'_ beans!" and Aunt Ardelia went off into such a gale of chuckles that she could scarcely fork the brown doughnuts out of the smoking fat. "He sez to me, Smith did, after he come home, 'No use, Ardely. Nobody can't say _I_ don't know beans! I'm full an' plenty acquainted with 'em. They say "variety is the spice o' life." There ain't no spice left in life on this island. I cal'late ev'ry woman from Sands P'int to the heel of the Killies has her mind sot on baked beans for Sat'day night an' Sunday.'" The little girls listened to the story of Uncle Smith's revolt with less appreciation, perhaps, than more mature persons might; but they appreciated Aunt Ardelia's doughnuts to the full. Carolyn with her friend and Prince went on toward the cove and the cabin where the Double O's were staying. The shack stood at the foot of one slope of the great, barren sand hill which shut out the view of Dorris Cove from the south. The children and the dog followed the patrol path, which here dipped to the shore, and skirted the hill and soon came to the fisherman's shack. It was empty. The door stood open and they could see all the interior. There were the two berths in which the cousins slept, both neatly made up with the cornhusk pillows plumped at the heads. The floor was swept and the little round pot-stove was well polished. The Double O's were as neat housekeepers as one could wish. But there were some things which had not been changed since the departure of the original owner of the shack. Several religious pictures were tacked to the walls and there was a harpoon hung in beckets over the fireplace, for Beppo had been a famous boat-steerer in the old whaling days and that harpoon had "struck on" to many a deep sea monster. Beside the mantel was a tiny altar and a figure of the Virgin hanging on the wall before which Beppo had burned a candle now and then in gratitude for favours received or expected. These oddities of furnishings were why Captain Ozias Littlefield had called the hut "Portugoosy." "But I guess we can't go in," said Carolyn to her friend, "for Mr. Cap'n Littlefield isn't here." "And can't we find out about his wooden leg?" "Doesn't seem so," admitted the equally disappointed Carolyn. "What'll we do, then?" asked Edna. "I wanted to see both their wooden legs. Are they just alike, Car'lyn?" "Why, no," confessed her friend. "Their wooden legs aren't just alike. You see, one's a lefthand leg and the other's a righthand leg." "Goodness! What's the difference?"