While his sister ushered the pale lady into the little house on the edge of the bluff, Captain Littlefield and Barzilla talked, Carolyn and her dog standing by with much interest in the net-mending. "How ye makin' out with the _Snatch It_, this season, Barzilla?" asked the wooden-legged man. "They tell me swordfish is leavin' the island waters an' gettin' to be as scurce as hen's teeth." "I dunno, Ozy," said the younger man. "Swordfish made our livin' in my father's time an' in poor old gran'ther's time. They were both swordfishers; and I would be sorry to change, myself. Seems as though what was good enough for them ought to be good enough for me." "Times is changed, Barzilla--and fashions with it," said the captain. "True as you're born!" agreed Mr. Ball. "But swordfish don't change none. They are still to be found sleepin' on top of the water, and can be come upon in the same old way as when the first double-ender ever put out o' this port. "While them fellers from Nantucket and the Cape go out to the Georges in their steam tugs and put out dories an' crews to fight for the swordfish, I can take one man in the old _Snatch It_, creep up on a fish like I was shown by my father, an' put an iron in him from the pulpit nine times out o' ten. Them noisy tugs scare off the fish half the time, and the dories lose 'em. Change of fashion ain't always an improvement, Ozy." "No. You'm right there," agreed Captain Littlefield. "But them rattle-de-bang motor boats and sech seem to be drivin' all the fish off shore." "I can foller 'em, Ozy. I can foller 'em in the _Snatch It_. Let them furriners with their motor boats go after the tunny fish if they want. They're nothin' more than blackfish, an' we didn't use to think blackfish was wuth more'n pilot-whales. But for swordfish there's always a market." "Yes, yes. You'm right, Barzilla," agreed the wooden-legged man again. "But it's a short season." "'Twouldn't be a short season if I had capital," said Mr. Ball, nodding his head with confidence. "I guess you are right on one point, Ozy. Fashions do change. If I could salt down swordfish like they do mack'rel--Wal! no use talkin' 'bout it. They do so at New London, and make money on't. No reason why we couldn't do it here. We're nearer the banks. The fish are out there. I ain't satisfied to be just a fisherman, I admit, and live all my life on potatoes and pollock." "Uh-huh! But 'taters and pollock are a sight better than nothing," chuckled Captain Littlefield. "That's a dish that no true islander will deny, Barzilla. Well, we'd better be gettin' home, leetle gal. I 'spect ye'll be over here to see Molly I. and Barzilla often enough, now't your friends have come here to stop." "Oh, yes, sir, if I may," said Carolyn, shaking hands with the young fisherman. But it was to Captain Littlefield she addressed the question that was troubling her mind. She asked it before the buckboard rattled out of the lane: