Luther Williams smiled. "She? Who? Of course you must mean Miss Elliott."
Kenneth laughed in an embarrassed way. "Oh, I say," he began, then went on more seriously. "I do feel encouraged and I suppose that makes me hopeful. Mr. Williams, you and I have had some good talks, and I am under no end of obligation to you for the things you have said and the interest you have shown in me. Perhaps I am precipitate. Perhaps I am not prudent, but you see things do look brighter, and I may succeed sooner than I hoped. Besides, there is the other fellow—though I suppose I am a conceited ass to dream that she might prefer me—would you—do you think—you and she are such friends—I say—if you had a daughter what would you think if an impecunious fellow like me told her he loved her?"
"If I had a daughter," said Mr. Williams reflectively. "That is the second time to-day that I have been asked to consider such a state of affairs. I'll have to give the subject serious thought, I find, if I am going to be appealed to twice daily. Suppose we leave the question for the present, Mr. Hilary, and I'll consider it. Meanwhile I am keeping you from your party, so I'll say good-night with the advice, go slow." He spoke with mocking lightness, and Kenneth, feeling rather rebuffed, went on his way.
CHAPTER X
OVER THE CHAFING-DISH
To Kenneth's disappointment he found that Cephas Mitchell had already arrived when he made his appearance at Wits' End. It was evident that having once lost an opportunity by being late, he did not intend to suffer such a thing to occur again. Miss Fuller was also on hand, and the three sitting before the fire were having a merry time over the sharpening of long sticks to be used later in toasting marshmallows.
"We did have such a jolly time this afternoon," said Ethel as Kenneth came in. "We must tell you about our search for a washerwoman."
Kenneth took the place she made for him. "Tell me about it," he said.
"We traipsed the island over," Ethel began, "and finally we discovered, away down at the other end, the woman we were looking for. She lives in a tiny bright pink house near the water's edge, and is as clean as a new pin. Her name is Minnie Hooper, and she has a houseful of children who bear the most astonishing names. One is Cleony Arminelly, another Althea Cleopatra. She is fond of the Cleos you see, and the youngest rejoices in the cognomen of Laury Violy. We didn't discover the names of any of the boys, but one; he is Grenville Leroy. Laury Violy appears to be a delicate young person, for her mother told us, in a voice like a calliope, that when the wind gets around to the east'ard Laury Violy 'hoarses up.' She also told us that she had lately moved from a house still nearer the water. She had stood it as long as she could, but when the water came in over the kitchen floor, she 'skun out.' She promised to come for the wash to-morrow if Laury Violy didn't hoarse up, so I'm anxiously watching the weather. You didn't notice when you came in whether the wind had changed."