Gwen laughed. "Now, Aunt Cam, I know you have reached the limit of human endurance, and I shall appoint myself a committee of one to seek out a man-of-all-work."
"I wish you luck," returned Miss Elliott, resting her head against the back of the chair. "The trouble is," she went on after a moment, "that these blessed people spend their lives in waiting and they cannot understand why we should not be willing to do it, too. They wait for the weather, the winds, the tide. They wait for their fish, for nearly everything, and they are so in the habit of it that it bewilders them when they are hurried. They cannot comprehend a society which does not wait for anything."
"Shouldn't you like to see Manny Green, for instance, during the six o'clock rush hour in New York? Do you suppose he would understand the word hustle then?" said Gwen. "However, Aunt Cam, I am sure that there are great many who are not loafers. Look at Thad Eaton, and Miss Phosie, too. They work steadily from morning till night. Miss Phosie is such a dear. She certainly is a contrast to Miss Phenie."
"Yes," returned Miss Elliott, "the very way they cut their pies gives a clue to their characters. Miss Phenie always helps herself to the largest piece, Miss Phosie invariably takes the smallest. That tells the whole story."
"You have it in a nutshell," replied Gwen. "Now you stay here and rest, Aunt Cam, while I go on my voyage of discovery."
"Where are you going?"
"Not far."
"Whom shall you attack first?"
"That's tellings. I have an idea. If my quest fails I'll acknowledge my faith misplaced, and myself beaten, though I'm 'hop-sin',' as Asa Bates says. Lie down and rest. You have done enough for one day."
She picked up her hat and went out. Miss Elliott watched the erect figure pass the window, and turn toward the sea. "What's she going that way for?" soliloquized Miss Elliott. "Perhaps she thinks she can conjure up the wizard." But she ceased to speculate in a few minutes and dropped off into the sleep which follows great weariness.