A spasm of pain passed over the fisherman's face. He took her hand in his and looked down at it where it lay, slender and fine in his big, strong knotty fingers. "If I could choose a daughter," he said slowly, "she would be just like you."
"Thank you," returned Gwen. And they went down the hill together.
CHAPTER IX
"IF IT WERE YOUR DAUGHTER"
It was warm and quiet in Miss Phosie's kitchen. The teakettle, as it simmered on the big stove, sang a gentle tune. On the braided mat, of various hues, slept Cap'n Ben's dog, Tinker. The window ledges held numerous tin cans and glass jars in which slips of geranium and fuchsia were planted. The table, covered with oilcloth, displayed a row of freshly baked cakes. Miss Phosie by the window, work basket at her side, was mending Luther Williams' socks. She wore her afternoon frock, for there was only supper to get, and part of that was already prepared. The frock was of black alpaca, with tight-fitting waist finished at the neck by a little lace collar which was held together by an old-fashioned pin set with a braid of hair. The dark strand was Miss Phenie's, the light her mother's, the one streaked with gray, Cap'n Ben's, the brown one that of her brother, Ora's father, who was lost at sea, the lightest of all was Miss Phosie's own. She gave a gentle sigh as she folded up the last pair of socks. "I shall be glad when the summer is over," she soliloquized, "and we settle back in the old ways. Seems as if there wasn't time for anybody or anything now. I don't wonder he keeps away so much with the house full of strangers, and folks liable to run in here any minute where he's used to laying and being comfortable with a book. To be sure he spends a good deal of time with Miss Elliott and Gwen. That young man Hilary, too, he seems to be friendly with. Well, I don't blame him; they're nice folks, real kind and pleasant, and more his kind. I hope he won't be discontented after they're gone, that's all. He appears sort of moody lately, as if he had something on his mind, or was dissatisfied in some way. I daresn't say a word to him about it, though I should like to know if there is really anything worrying him, or if it's just the boarders and the having things upsot." Her thoughts went back to the chill winter days, when, as she moved quietly about the kitchen, Luther Williams would be on the lounge near the window with a book, striving to catch the last bit of daylight, then when the short afternoon shut down, they would have a quiet chat together about the little daily doings of the household, the news of the neighborhood, or sometimes of more personal things. Miss Phosie always looked forward to that peaceful hour during which the rest of the family gathered in the sitting-room, and she washed the supper dishes and tidied up the kitchen. "It won't be long now," she told herself, "the summer's going. I kind of hate to see the lights all out in the cottages, too, and it does seem more lively to have people coming and going."
She stepped to the door and looked out beyond the blooming array of petunias, roses, and asters to the row of cottages along shore. Then her eye travelled across the pasture to a dip between ridges which showed a well-worn path leading to the house from the pines beyond. Along this way was Luther Williams accustomed to trundle his barrow. He was not coming now, and Miss Phosie turned her gaze from the path to the road. The air was sweet with the scent of new-mown hay, for everyone was cutting grass now, and it lay in long odorous windrows upon the ground by the orchard. Cap'n Ben and Silas Ford were out there working, Cap'n Ben's big booming voice rising above other sounds as he spoke to his fellow laborer.
Miss Phosie was about to close the door when she heard Zerviah Hackett's sharp tones. "Looking for Ora, Phosie? She's down at Almira Green's. I saw her there a few minutes ago helping Manny pass his time agreeably. Was you coming out or going in?"
"I just stepped to the door for a minute," returned Miss Phosie. "My! don't it smell sweet out of doors?"
"Always does in haying season," replied Miss Zerviah.