This was an elderly personage with whitish hair, and under
his chin a thin whitish beard, which waved in the gentle breeze
and gave Dorcas the idea that his head was filled with hair which
was leaking out from below.

"Is this the Widow Ducket's?" inquired this elderly man, in a
strong, penetrating voice.

"That's my name," said the widow, and laying her knitting on
the bench beside her, she went to the gate. Dorcas also laid her
knitting on the bench beside her and went to the gate.

"I was told," said the elderly man, "at a house we touched at
about a quarter of a mile back, that the Widow Ducket's was the
only house in this village where there was any chance of me and
my mates getting a meal. We are four sailors, and we are making
from the bay over to Cuppertown, and that's eight miles ahead
yet, and we are all pretty sharp set for something to eat."

"This is the place," said the widow, "and I do give meals if
there is enough in the house and everything comes handy."

"Does everything come handy to-day?" said he.

"It does," said she, "and you can hitch your horse and come
in; but I haven't got anything for him."

"Oh, that's all right," said the man, "we brought along
stores for him, so we'll just make fast and then come in."