"I hope he may do it before the next storm," returned Gwen. "Our nearest neighbors have been telling us they did not get much satisfaction." She smiled at the recollection.
"Why? How was it?" asked Kenneth.
"Miss Gray went off in a state of indignation to hunt up Thad Eaton. I can imagine the tone of voice in which she said: 'Mr. Eaton, my roof leaks.'"
"What did he say?"
"He said—" Gwen's eyes grew merry. "He said, 'Is that so, Miss Gray? So does mine.'"
Kenneth laughed. "I take the lesson to heart. I'll get a bundle of shingles and some paint before the next storm on the principle if you want a thing done, do it yourself. Here's the place." He set down his color-box and prepared to begin his sketch. Gwen watched him for a few minutes, then she moved off to join Miss Elliott whom she saw coming toward them. "When you get through," she said over her shoulder, "come to Wits' End and have a cup of tea."
The young man looked up brightly. "Thanks, I'll do it," he responded, then turned his attention to his sketch.
Gwen advanced to meet her aunt. "Isn't it the most gloriously awe-inspiring thing you ever saw?" she cried. "We thought it was superb from our upper windows, but you get more variety by walking along the bluff. I suppose I'd better go for the mail; we haven't had any for two days."
"I'll go with you," said Miss Elliott. "I want some things at the store if they are to be had."
They turned from the wild commotion of the ocean to the quieter side of the island. Down by the harbor there was little noise save the distant booming of the sea. The vessels which had put in from the storm lay gently rocking at each swell of the tide. From the low white house at the top of the hill Cap'n Ben came out in his sou'wester. He stood for a moment looking westward, then went down toward the long flight of steps which led to the wharf. Along the road, which extended like a backbone from one end of the island to the other, figures appeared at irregular intervals, going in the direction of the little store nestling under the hill by the harbor. As Gwen and her aunt passed by Almira Green's they saw her come to the door and hold out her hand to make sure the rain was over. Then she gathered her skirts closely about her, and picked her way down the narrow garden path to shake the moisture from the heads of some crimson peonies, and to tuck up a bit of vine torn from its trellis by the gale. The western horizon showed clearly now, the wind died down and the sun shone out brilliantly. The storm was over, though all night long, the dwellers along the bluff, when half awake, heard the booming of the sea.