"I remember you promised long ago. Shall you go fishing?"
"Perhaps we shall try our hands at it."
"Cap'n Ben says that the steamboats and launches are beginning to scarcen the mackerel and that they are not so plentiful this year as usual."
"Scarcen is a good word."
"So I think. I shall adopt it from henceforth. Cap'n 'Lias Hooper's vessel, the Mary Lizzie, sails to-morrow," remarked Gwen casually, "so yours will not be the only fishing expedition that goes out."
The sun was setting in a mass of rolling clouds. The air soft and warm, even as it blew over stretches of water, was of a more languorous quality than usual. The waves stole in gently, lapping the stones with a placid murmur. The cove was as smooth as glass, except where a boat, manned by two rowers, left a brilliant line of ripples in its wake. The floors of the great chasms indenting the shores, displayed long ropes of maroon-colored kelp where the tide had gone out. The main land, beginning at the Neck, stretched its curving fingers out into the quiet sea as if it would clutch the islands beyond and draw them into safe keeping against a time when great breakers should threaten them. Gwen and her companion stood watching the sky till the sun disappeared behind the piled-up clouds, which, showing golden edges, drifted off towards the horizon, finally hiding the distant mountains from view. Retracing their steps the man and maid went on down hill toward the road, and further to where they must skirt Little Harbor. Just at this point Gwen gave a quick glance toward a cottage close to the cove shore, and on the porch caught sight of a man standing, with folded arms, looking out upon the water. She gave a gentle sigh as she went through the little gate on the opposite side of the way.
The next morning was balmy and still, only a slight breeze filled the sails of Captain Hooker's fishing schooner which passed out of the cove. Gwen standing on the rocks, watched it slipping slowly by. Some one on the vessel blew a long blast upon a horn, and presently, further on, a group of women gathered to watch the vessel out of sight, and to wave farewell to those on board. In the group Gwen distinguished Almira Green and Ora. She remembered that Manny was going out to the Banks that day with the other fishermen. "Poor little Ora!" said the girl to herself. "And poor Almira, too," she added. "I am glad to have no lover who must follow the high seas." She watched the vessel grow smaller and smaller, and presently her attention was attracted to a smaller craft, a little row-boat moving steadily toward Jagged Island. "I believe there are Ethel and Mr. Mitchell!" she exclaimed. "Joy go with you, my dears! I am absolutely convinced that I could not stand a man who preferred comic operas to 'Aida,' and who had no soul above newspapers. You are quite welcome, Ethel dear. I hope you are prepared with plenty of bait, and will land your beautiful gold fish." She made a deep curtsey and laughed. "I am sure he is just about as bony and unpalatable as any other gold fish would be to me," she said to herself.
She turned her eyes from the small boat to another which had just rounded the point, and was making toward one of the inner islands. She looked at it attentively for a moment, then sprang over the rocks toward the cottage, coming out directly with a pair of field glasses. "I thought so," she murmured. "Everybody is going out to-day, it appears. I was sure that was Cap'n Ben's boat. I wonder if he is going off sketching. He is all alone." The "he" could scarcely apply to Cap'n Ben. "He is sailing off toward Pond Island. He isn't going there, I know; I suppose to some point further on. That's the third boat to go out from here this morning. Dear me! I wonder what I shall do to-day. It seems a wee bit lonely on the island. Bother! there comes Miss Henrietta, skipping over the rocks like a hart upon the mountains. I can't pretend not to see her."
Miss Henrietta, the youngest of the Gray sisters, had arrived at that uncertain period of life when she hesitated to associate with women older than herself for fear she might be supposed of the same age. She, therefore, sought the society of those much younger, hoping to be accredited with a like youthfulness. Gwen usually tried to avoid her, not because she did not enjoy older companions, but because, as she said, Miss Henrietta was the kind who took in at one glance what you had on, and criticized it afterward. She was always very ready with suggestion. "You would think," said Gwen to her aunt, "that Miss Henrietta had a copyright on all possible suggestions, she is so ready to make them and acts as if you had infringed her rights if ever you present one of your own to her." To each other Ethel and Gwen always spoke of Miss Henrietta as "Household Hints." So just now, Gwen, waiting for Miss Henrietta to come up, knew a suggestion would be ready, and so it was.
"I just thought I'd run over and tell you," said the elder lady, "that I find tennis shoes injurious, and I suggest that you don't wear them."