"Good afternoon, Mis' Pennel; how ye gettin' along?" "Oh, pretty well, Captain; won't you walk in and have a glass of beer?" "Well, thank you," said the Captain, raising his hat and wiping his forehead, "I be pretty dry, it's a fact." Mrs. Pennel hastened to a cask which was kept standing in a corner of the kitchen, and drew from thence a mug of her own home-brewed, fragrant with the smell of juniper, hemlock, and wintergreen, which she presented to the Captain, who sat down in the doorway and discussed it in leisurely sips. "Wal', s'pose it's most time to be lookin' for 'em home, ain't it?" he said. "I _am_ lookin' every day," said Mrs. Pennel, involuntarily glancing upward at the sea. At the word appeared the vision of little Mara, who rose up like a spirit from a dusky corner, where she had been stooping over her reading. "Why, little Mara," said the Captain, "you ris up like a ghost all of a sudden. I thought you's out to play. I come down a-purpose arter you. Mis' Kittridge has gone shoppin' up to Brunswick, and left Sally a 'stent' to do; and I promised her if she'd clap to and do it quick, I'd go up and fetch you down, and we'd have a play in the cove." Mara's eyes brightened, as they always did at this prospect, and Mrs. Pennel said, "Well, I'm glad to have the child go; she seems so kind o' still and lonesome since Moses went away; really one feels as if that boy took all the noise there was with him. I get tired myself sometimes hearing the clock tick. Mara, when she's alone, takes to her book more than's good for a child." "She does, does she? Well, we'll see about that. Come, little Mara, get on your sun-bonnet. Sally's sewin' fast as ever she can, and we're goin' to dig some clams, and make a fire, and have a chowder; that'll be nice, won't it? Don't you want to come, too, Mis' Pennel?" "Oh, thank you, Captain, but I've got so many things on hand to do afore they come home, I don't really think I can. I'll trust Mara to you any day." Mara had run into her own little room and secured her precious fragment of treasure, which she wrapped up carefully in her handkerchief, resolving to enlighten Sally with the story, and to consult the Captain on any nice points of criticism. Arrived at the cove, they found Sally already there in advance of them, clapping her hands and dancing in a manner which made her black elf-locks fly like those of a distracted creature. "Now, Sally," said the Captain, imitating, in a humble way, his wife's manner, "are you sure you've finished your work well?" "Yes, father, every stitch on't." "And stuck in your needle, and folded it up, and put it in the drawer, and put away your thimble, and shet the drawer, and all the rest on't?" said the Captain. "Yes, father," said Sally, gleefully, "I've done everything I could think of." "'Cause you know your ma'll be arter ye, if you don't leave everything straight."