We dug the clams--they were for bait--we boarded the "Hephzy," sailed
out to the fishing grounds, and caught flounders. I caught the most of
them; Jim was not interested in fishing during the greater part of the
time. Then we sailed home again and walked up to the house. Hephzibah,
for whom my boat is named, met us at the back door. As usual her
greeting was not to the point and practical.

"Leave your rubber boots right outside on the porch," she said. "Here,
give me those flatfish; I'll take care of 'em. Hosy, you'll find dry
things ready in your room. Here's your shoes; I've been warmin' 'em. Mr.
Campbell I've put a suit of Hosy's and some flannels on your bed. They
may not fit you, but they'll be lots better than the damp ones you've
got on. You needn't hurry; dinner won't be ready till you are."

I did not say anything; I knew Hephzy--had known her all my life. Jim,
who, naturally enough, didn't know her as well, protested.

"We're not wet, Miss Cahoon," he declared. "At least, I'm not, and I
don't see how Kent can be. We both wore oilskins."

"That doesn't make any difference. You ought to change your clothes
anyhow. Been out in that boat, haven't you?"

"Yes, but--"

"Well, then! Don't say another word. I'll have a fire in the
sittin'-room and somethin' hot ready when you come down. Hosy, be
sure and put on BOTH the socks I darned for you. Don't get thinkin' of
somethin' else and come down with one whole and one holey, same as you
did last time. You must excuse me, Mr. Campbell. I've got saleratus