"That's pretty good," Mr. Mitchell remarked. "It's a very curious place, isn't it?"
"It is tremendously interesting," returned Gwen. "Last night we were nearly scared to death by some one's tapping on the window pane. Aunt Cam went to the door, and out of the darkness came a sepulchral voice saying 'Do you want any lobsters?' We discovered it to be a man who had 'shorts' to sell, and though we longed for them, as they are so much sweeter and tenderer than the large ones, we refrained from encouraging a violator of the laws, and didn't take any. I don't know that we would have been so virtuous, if we had not been sure of all we could use from another source."
"It is quite right, you know, to have such strict laws," said Mr. Mitchell, "for if every one used shorts in a little while lobsters would become very scarce, and in time there would be none at all."
"Of course it is right," agreed Gwen, "though it is funny to hear how the lobstermen evade the vigilance of the officers. They are rarely caught, for some one is always on the outlook to warn the men who have any undersized lobsters on hand. But here we are on the highroad. I suppose the mail must be in."
"I heard the boat whistle an hour ago," Kenneth told her.
"Then we'll go to the post-office. Shall we?"
They crossed over to the long flight of steps leading to the cove, meeting on the way various persons coming from the post-office. One of them exclaimed at sight of Gwen, "Why, Gwendolin Whitridge, what are you doing here?"
"What are you doing here, Ethel Fuller?"
"That is just what I'd like to know myself," came the reply. "It is the stupidest place I ever saw. Nothing to do all day but sit and look at that monotonous old ocean. No board walk, no chance to wear your good clothes, no band. I don't see what Aunt Harriet was thinking of to choose such a spot, and we've taken our rooms for the season. I shall try to persuade Aunt Harriet to leave early."
"Where are you staying?" asked Gwen.