Gwen smiled. She knew Miss Phosie must be more than usually ruffled to criticize in such a manner. "Perhaps if she were to go away to school she might forget about the boys here. She is too young to have her head full of such things." Gwen spoke as one of vast experience.
"That's what I told her grandpap," returned Miss Phosie, "but he can't bear to think of her going away for as long as a whole winter. She's his only grandchild, and he does set such store by her. Won't you come into the settin'-room, Miss Whitridge, where sister is?"
"If you don't mind my staying here, I'd rather sit with you."
Miss Phosie looked pleased. "Well, that'll be nice," she said. "Two of our boarders has left, and there ain't quite so much to do. The others will be going before long, too, and then we can settle down to the old ways."
"Dear me, when you talk about boarders leaving it makes me feel as if the summer were nearly over," returned Gwen.
"But you cal'late to stay pretty late, don't you?"
"As late in October as we dare. I must be back by the twentieth."
"Then I hope we shall see more of you," replied Miss Phosie politely. "Mr. Williams was saying the other day that after the boarders go we always take more comfort in the cottagers. Them that come and go just for one season you never feel much acquainted with, but with them that owns property it's different. They belong here."
"We certainly feel as if we did," Gwen assured her. "I love every inch of the island."
"That's what Mr. Williams says, and I guess that's why you and him are such friends. He's real fond of it."