For the hundredth time Willie raised the glasses and scanned the shimmering golden waters. "We should sight 'em before long," he nodded. "You don't see nothin' of 'em?" "Not yet." There was an anxious frown on his forehead. "Why don't you eat somethin'?" suggested she. "It might take your mind off worryin'." "I ain't worryin', Tiny," was the confident reply. "The boat's all right." "S'pose it should be snagged or somethin' outside the bay?" she ventured. "I wish to goodness they'd come back. Look, here's Delight an' Abbie comin' through the grove. Likely they've been gettin' uneasy, too." Sure enough, moving among the low pines that shaded the slope between the Spence and Brewster houses they saw the two women. Abbie was stouter now than when she had come as a bride to Zenas Henry's white cottage, but there was a serenity in her mien that softened her expression into charming womanliness. As she neared the shed she glanced at Willie with an uneasiness she could not wholly conceal. "Don't it seem to you, Willie, that it's gettin' most time for 'em to be gettin' home?" "You ain't nervous, Abbie," smiled the little old man. "N--o, not really. Of course, I know they're all right. Still, they ain't never stayed clammin' so long before." "I wouldn't worry, Auntie," Delight put in, taking her hand reassuringly. "A thousand things may have delayed them. I am sure--" "They're comin'!" broke in Willie with sudden excitement. "The boat's comin'. Ain't that her makin' the point, Bob? She's clippin' along like a race horse, too. Lord! Watch her go." "That's the _Sea Gull_!" cried Abbie. "I don't need no glasses to make her out. That's her! How foolish I was to go fussin'. Still, I always have a kind of dread--" "I know, I know," interrupted the inventor gently. "But there warn't no call for worry this time. I felt mortal certain they'd be heavin' into sight pretty soon." "I guess likely now we know they're on the way, we'd better slip home again," Abbie smiled. "I'd feel silly enough to have 'em find us here." "Nonsense, Abbie!" said Celestina. "They needn't know you was worried. Ain't it possible you might have come down here on an errand? Wait 'til they pass and walk back with 'em. What difference does it make if your dinner is late?" Abbie hesitated. Her dinner never was late; yet, for that matter, she never was out visiting her neighbors in the middle of the day, either. Perhaps, as she had followed one demoralizing impulse and transgressed all her domestic traditions, the breaking of another did not matter. "I--s'pose I might wait," she answered. "I'd love dearly to hear what they'll have to say." "Oh, do wait, Auntie!" Delight begged. "It won't be long now before they get here." "Better stay, Abbie," put in Willie. "Bob an' I won't be inventin' every day." "Well," was the half unwilling answer.