Mary, had flung off her hood, and now was down on the floor playing with
baby Ned, who welcomed her with crows of delight, for when she felt
good-natured she was his favorite playmate.

The room would have seemed overflowing to a stranger, with its curtained
bed in the alcove--or rather square projection--at one side, its
fireplace at the end, and cradle, table, spinning-wheel, reels, and
nets, to fill every available space left over.

Even the ceiling was made useful; for along the rafters were hooks which
supported spears, oars, and paddles, while one wall was prettily
tapestried with a great brown net, its sinkers hanging like ornamental
balls along one edge.

The windows were small and the ceiling low, but the fire shone merrily,
and gave light, warmth, and cosiness to the crowded apartment.

It was Sara who had pleaded for the restoration of the open fireplace,
and the removal of the cook-stove to a bit of shed just back; and though
at first the young mother had fretted at the innovation, she found it so
much more cheerful, and such a saving of candles in the long evenings,
that she had ceased to grumble.

As the night closed in, after their quickly disposed of supper, they all
drew closer about the drift-wood fire, and no one, not even Mrs.
Olmstead, seemed inclined to talk.

Sara's eyes wandered often from her book to the rugged face of her
father, and each time she saw his eyes gazing thoughtfully into the
flames.