A shout came up the path between the alders, and Letty scrambled to her feet. "Daddy!" she shrieked, and headed down the path, Catherine loping easily after her. There they were, Charles and the two older children, Spencer carrying a string of flounders, Marian with the fish lines hugged under her arm, and Charles between them, each of his hands caught in one of theirs. They stopped as Letty pelted toward them. "Fishy! Sweet fishy!" Letty reached for the string. Spencer drew it sternly away, and Letty reached again, patting the flat cold flounder on the end. "Letty, you'll get all dirty and fish smelly." Spencer disapproved. "Sweet fishy--" Letty's howl broke off as her father swung her up to his shoulder. "Fine supper we got, Mother," said Charles, grinning. "And I caught two," cried Spencer, "and Marian caught one----" "It was bigger'n yours," said Marian, sadly, "if it was just one." "Well, but Marian hollered so when a fish picked at her line and so she scared him off." Marian peered up under her shock of dark bobbed hair, and finding a twinkle in Catherine's eyes, giggled. "I did holler," she said. "I like to holler, and fish haven't any ears and couldn't hear me----" "This being the ninth time this discussion has been carried on," said Charles, "I move we change the subject. Anything will do----" Spencer sighed. The procession moved up the lane, Father at the head, with Letty making loud "Glumph! Glumphs!" as his rubber boots talked, Spencer next, trying to space his smaller boots just in his father's footsteps, and Marian with Catherine at the rear. "Who's going to clean those fish?" Catherine wrinkled her nose. "Well, we caught them. Division of labor, eh, Spencer?" "The male has the sport, and the female the disgusting task of removing the vitals, I suppose." "Amelia won't," announced Marian. "She said she couldn't clean fish, it turned her stomach." "I wouldn't keep a maid that wouldn't clean fish." Charles dropped Letty on the broad granite step of the farmhouse, and settled beside her. "Who'll get me some shoes?" He hauled at his red rubber boot, and the clam mud flew off in a shower. Letty grabbed again at the string of fish as Spencer stood incautiously near her. "Take them into the sink, Spen," said Catherine. "Marian, can you find Daddy's sneakers? You'll all need a scrub, I'll say." She looked at them a moment. Marian, dark; irregular small features, tanned to an olive brown; slim as witch grass. Spencer, stocky, with fair cropped head and long gray eyes like her own. Charles--he looked heavier, and certainly well; the sun had left a white streak under the brim of his battered hat and behind his spectacles, but the rest of his face was fiery. "Cold cream for you, old man," she said. "You aren't used to our Maine sun and sea burn." "I think I'll be a captain," said Spencer, seriously, turning from his opening of the door. "And fight. Like father." He gazed admiringly at the old service hat on the step.