mother hated the sea 'bout as much as any longshore woman ever did.
And there's a slew of 'em detest it worse'n cats. Why, ye couldn't
hire some o' these Cape Cod females to get into a boat. Their men for
generations was drowned and more'n forty per cent. of the stones in
the churchyards along the coast, sacred to the mem'ry of the men of the
fam'lies, have on 'em: '_Lost at sea_.'

"Can't blame the women. Old Ella Coffin that lives on Narrer P'int
over yonder ain't been to the main but once't in fifteen years. That
was when an off-shore gale blew all the water out o' the breach 'twixt
the p'int and the mainland.

"Ye see," said Cap'n Abe, smiling again, "Narrer P'int is re'lly an
island, even at low water. But _then_ a hoss an' buggy can splatter
across't the breach. But it makes Marm Coffin seasick even to ride
through water in a buggy. Marked, she is, as you might say.

"Well, now, Louise, child," the storekeeper added, "I'm a-gassin' 'bout
things that don't much int'rest you, I cal'late. I'll light a lamp an'
show you up to your room. When Perry Baker comes by and by, I'll help
him in with your trunks. You needn't worry about 'em."

It had been foggy on the Sound the night before and Louise had not
slept until the boat had rounded Point Judith. So she was not averse
to retiring at this comparatively early hour.

Cap'n Abe led her upstairs to a cool, clean, and comfortable chamber.
The old four-posted, corded bedstead stood in the middle of the room,
covered with a blue-and-white coverlet, with sheets and pillow cases as
white as foam. It could not be doubted that Cap'n Abe had carried out