"Here you be! Hard at it!" said Captain Ben, puffing around the corner
like a portable west-wind. I've understood you've had a hurt. Is that
so?"

"Oh, no! Nothing to mention," returned Mrs. Keens, turning about a face
bright and cheerful as the full moon; and throwing, as by accident, a
red bathing-suit over the two broomsticks that leaned against her tub.

Unlike Mrs. Davids, Mrs. Keens neither pitied herself nor would allow
anybody else to do so.

"Sho!" remarked Captain Ben, feeling defrauded. He had counted on
sacrificing himself to his sympathies, but he didn't give up yet. "You
must see some pretty tough times 'pears to me with such a parcel of
little ones, and only yourself to look to," said he, proceeding
awkwardly enough to hang the pile of wrung-out clothes upon an empty
line.

"I don't complain," returned the widow, bravely. "My children are not
_teusome_; and Jack, why you would be surprised to see how many things
Jack can do, for all he isn't quite right."

As she spoke thus with affectionate pride, Jack came up wheeling a
roughly made cart filled with wet bathing clothes from the beach. He
looked up at sound of his mother's voice with something of the dumb
tenderness of an intelligent dog. "Jack helps, Jack good boy," said he,
nodding with a happy smile.

"Yes, Jack helps. We don't complain," repeated the mother.