"He can make his future, though," said Kenneth with the hope of youth strong within him.
"He can in a great measure, if there's much future left him, though it does appear sometimes as if there must be such a thing as inexorable fate."
"It was a happy fate that sent us your way," said Kenneth affectionately. "I think I must adopt you, too, as Gwen has done. You stand for a good deal more than the pork-packer who has recently become my step-father."
They went into the house together. Miss Phosie was watching for them, and had a table spread. The odor of fish and coffee, fresh gingerbread and baked apples filled the air. The room was piping hot. Under the stove lay Tinker snoring comfortably. Cap'n Ben was poring over his paper—now-a-days the mail was soon distributed. Miss Phenie in the most comfortable chair was knitting a pink "sweaterette" while she exchanged gossip with Zerviah Hackett. Ground was soon to be broken for two new cottages which would be ready for the next year, this was one item of news. Miss Elliott's well was to be started in a few days. Effie Jackson was going to teach school over on the Neck, and was keeping company with a young man of that neighborhood who was no one less than Ora's former lover, Al Daly,—and so it went.
Miss Phenie had lately arisen to the glory of a pompadour, thus emulating Mrs. Dow. "Who's ten years older than I am, if she's a day," said Miss Phenie to Zerviah. The pompadour, very heavy, very black, overhung Miss Phenie's forehead like a beetling crag. She was very conscious of it and bore it stiffly, as if she expected it momentarily to topple over and crush her. Cap'n Ben never tired of poking fun at it. He looked up now and said, "Why don't you take off your hat, Phenie, and stay with us awhile?"
Miss Phenie ignored the question and went on with her talk. "As I was saying, Zerviah, Ora's duty was just as much to me as to Almira, and her going leaves me pretty much cramped for time."
"She comes over every day and helps a lot," put in Miss Phosie, who more than Miss Phenie, missed her helper.
"I cal'late you wouldn't be so cramped for time, if you wasn't so everlastingly particular about that new hair contrivance of yours," spoke up Cap'n Ben. "Phenie cal'lates she'll prepare for cold weather in season," he said with a grin and a nod, as he turned to Miss Zerviah. "I guess I'll get myself one o' them warm pillows for the top o' my head," he went on. "Hair's getting kinder thin." He passed his hand over his bald pate and chuckled. "Keeps the sun out of your eyes pretty good, too, don't it, Phenie? I never thought your eyes was weak, but maybe it'll prevent you from having to get glasses. I had to put 'em on before I was your age."
Miss Phenie arose majestically, gathering up her knitting and saying, "Suppose we go to the settin'-room, Zerviah."
"I saw Obadiah Foster yist'day," shouted out Cap'n Ben, after her. "He'd just shot a coot. Wanted to know if you wouldn't like a wing to stick in that new cap he saw you was wearing." Obadiah Foster was a widower of some months standing. He had already buried three wives, and it was reported that he was looking out for the fourth, and therefore Cap'n Ben's witticism was not without point. Every available spinster or widow on the island had been mentioned by Miss Zerviah as "settin' her cap" for Obadiah, as Cap'n Ben well knew. He followed the departing pair to the door and continued his pleasantries by calling, "I say, Zerviah, why don't you git one of them caps like Phenie's? Obadiah might shoot another coot." This was too much, as the slamming of the sitting-room door proclaimed, and Cap'n Ben having had his joke, returned chuckling, to his paper.