Jerry had stopped running. He was going uphill and besides they were almost home now, but Jo had time to say, “Nobody ever claimed the boat. I guess nobody owns her. And not even the sea wants her you can make that out by the way it threw her away up here by the road, just as if it wanted to be free of her. Only the flood tides reach her now.” They had reached the house as Jo talked, and he jumped down from his seat with his face still grim and set. And then everything changed, for the house door was flung open with a flood of lamplight over the doorstep and there stood Fred Bailey, Jo’s father. “Come right in,” he called, striding to meet them. “Don’t mind that stuff, Mr. Seymour. We’ll take it in for you.” Ann liked Fred Bailey almost as much as she had liked Jo. As soon as she saw him standing there, tall and thin and gangling in his rough clothes, a fisherman and a farmer, all thoughts of the strange wrecked ship were forgotten. Here was some one who made her feel at home, some one who was strong and trustworthy and honest as the good brown earth and the mighty cliffs. Mr. Seymour had rented the Bailey house and Jo and his father had moved into the barn for the summer. So presently, when the baggage had been19 brought in and when Mr. Bailey had shown Mrs. Seymour where things were in the pantry and the kitchen and the woodshed and where the linen and blankets were kept, he and Jo went off to their summer quarters leaving the Seymours alone. 19 Provisions had been sent from the village store and Ann and her mother found the shelves well stocked with all kinds of food, with big barrels of sugar, flour, and potatoes stored under the shelf in the pantry. After they had studied the workings of the kerosene stove they cooked the first meal over it, and Ann loved just such an opportunity to show how much she knew about cooking. Ben was ready to admit that she could boil potatoes expertly when she didn’t forget and let the water boil away. As there was plenty of water this time, and as Mrs. Seymour knew how to cook the steak deliciously in a hot pan, and as Fred Bailey had left them a batch of soft yellow biscuits, the hungry travelers were very well off indeed this evening. Mr. Seymour was already gloating over the work he meant to do this summer. “That boat is a find I didn’t expect. I’ll start sketching her the first thing in the morning. Just think of having a cottage with a wrecked schooner right in the front
Prev.
Back
Top