"I'm not very wet," returned Gwen. "My cape and the edge of my skirt. Thank you, Mrs. Green. I love this soft silent fog. It doesn't chill one in the least. It is quite different from those cold easterly sea-turns they have further down the coast. Is Miss Fuller in?"
"I cal'late she's up in her room. She's not one to venture out, I know. Manny was so sot on going to Portland to-day, that nothing would do but he must up and take the first boat. He's going sword-fishing soon as Cap'n 'Lias Hooper's vessel's ready, so it'll be his last chance to get to the city for some time." She gave a deep sigh.
"I suppose you hate to have him leave you."
"Yes, I do. His father was lost off the Banks, and my husband too. We was cousins, my husband and me, so I lost two in one as you might say. Manny's all I've got left, and I did hope he'd take to clerking or something. He did work for Ira Baldwin one summer, but he said he couldn't stand that kind of a job."
"There seems to be very little loss of life among the fishermen about here," responded Gwen cheerfully, "and I have no doubt Manny will come back safe and sound, and all the better for his experience."
"Maybe," said Almira, shaking her head dubiously. "Will you go up, Miss Whitridge, or shall I ask Miss Fuller to come down?"
"I'll go up," Gwen told her, and mounted the stairs leading to the upper room occupied by Ethel. The house was not a large one, and the only spare room down stairs was given over to Mrs. Dow. In answer to Ethel's "Come in," Gwen entered a low room with sloping ceiling. The walls were covered with paper of a lively pattern, violets of heroic size flung in massive bunches upon a buff ground. The border, to match, looked like a wild flight of young chickens pursuing one another around the room. The floor was covered with a bright red and green ingrain carpet. The furniture, a cottage set, painted yellow with blue and white roses upon it, added to the variety of color. Ethel was sitting by the window absorbed in running ribbons in some dainty underwear. "Well," she exclaimed, "you are a brave somebody. Isn't it a vile day?"
"I think it is lovely," Gwen declared. "Who would have eternal sunshine? I'd like to walk from one end of the island to the other."
"You certainly have more vim than I have. What in the world is there to see on a day like this?"
"Queer ghostly shapes looming up out of the mist, beautiful jewel-hung grasses and weeds. Then to feel the soft fog in your face and not to care about hurting your clothes, or getting your feet wet, or any such trivial things. I love it all. I saw a ship stealing by just now, and it looked as if it had come straight from a land of dreams."