"Oh, I do," replied Sylvia. "It's no trouble for me any more. Mrs. Lem let me make the coffee this morning, and we all sat down at seven o'clock promptly. Where were you? I don't believe I've seen you at breakfast since I've been here."
The old man's shoulders heaved in his toothless laugh. "Seven o'clock," he said scornfully. "Yew look through a knot-hole in your floor any mornin' when it's handy to four o'clock and yew'll see my breakfast doin's."
Sylvia opened her eyes, genuinely bewildered. "But why do you want to get up in the night?" she asked.
"Night!" he repeated. "What ye talkin' abaout? It's jest the hahnsomest time o' the hull day. I git up to go to the pound, o' course."
"The pound?" Sylvia stared in wonder. "Do you lose cows every day?"
"Cows! What ye talkin' abaout?"
"Why, you said pound. That's for lost cows and dogs, isn't it?"
Cap'n Lem stared a moment, and then cackled merrily.
"So 'tis, some places," he answered. "Geewhitaker! I must tell Lucil that!" His eyes disappeared. When he could open them again he went on: "I never give a thought to that afore. My pound's a net aout in the fishin' ground; an' I go an' haul it every mornin'."
"Oh, may I go with you some time?" asked Sylvia eagerly.