The man with the apron took a big nickel watch from the upper pocket
of his vest, looked at it, and shook his head. Upon his face, which was
long and thin like the rest of him, there was a grieved expression.

"A little mite late, ain't we, Isaiah?" said Zoeth, hastily. "Hope we
ain't kept supper waitin' too long?"

The tall man returned the watch to the pocket.

"Only twenty-three minutes, that's all," he drawled, with the
resignation of a martyr. "Twenty-three minutes ain't much in a lifetime,
maybe--but it don't help fried potatoes none. Them potatoes was ready at
half-past five."

"Well, 'tain't six yet," protested Captain Shad.

"Maybe 'tain't, but it's twenty-three minutes later'n half-past five.
Last thing you said to me was, 'Have supper ready at half-past five!' I
had it ready. Them potatoes went on the fire at--"

"There! there!" interrupted the Captain. "Never mind the potatoes. We'll
'tend to them in a minute. Give us a hand with this dunnage. There's
a satchel here and some more stuff. Sooner this craft's unloaded the
sooner we can eat. All ashore that's goin' ashore."

Zoeth climbed out of the buggy. He lifted their passenger to the ground.

"Mary-'Gusta," he said, "here's where Cap'n Gould and I live. This is
Mr. Isaiah Chase. Isaiah, this is Mary Lathrop, Cap'n Marcellus's little
girl. She's come to--t--"