"Well, it's all right, I s'pose," returned the captain gallantly, as they walked up the wharf toward the waiting carry-all; "but 't would 'a' been more to the point if ye'd brought somethin' that was kind of a rarity on the island. We could 'a' supplied ye with a cat fer every day in the week, black, white, malty, whatever ye wanted. Well! how ye been, Eliza?"
"I guess you can see," returned Eliza laconically.
"Well, well," said Cap'n James. He helped her into the carriage and followed. "Git ap, Tom. Mrs. Wright'll fat ye up in no time. She says you're goin' to stay with her."
"Yes, for a while I am." Eliza's eyes were travelling over the familiar rolling landscape. "How does she make out here?"
"Don't seem to complain none. Mr. Wright has settled down like a round peg in a round hole. Brewster's Island's good enough for him."
"My, my! How it's changed!" murmured Eliza as one unexpected roof after another rose into view.
"I s'pose that's so," agreed Captain James. "You can't stay away even from one o' these islands a dozen years or so without seein' the foot o' man encroachin'. It's good fer trade, Eliza, good fer trade. Lots o' the roofs ye see cover empty cottages now, but come summer time the place swarms all right. The Fabians got enough room to swing a cat in. Nobody can come very near them; but the rest o' the island's pretty well dotted here and there."
"It don't look like the place I was brought up," said Eliza.
They had reached the height of the road now, and her wistful eyes fell on a cove which pierced the island's side. Its softly rising banks were studded with evergreen trees, standing black above the black water. A threatening sky hung sullenly over all.
"'Tain't the place you was brought up," returned Captain James cheerfully. "It's a darned sight more prosperous place. While the summer folks are restin' up, we're makin' hay and cuttin' ice, as ye might say; and come fall we get shet of 'em and go back to a quiet life. No one can't say this ain't a quiet life, can they, Eliza?"