“I must go now,” said John, when the meal was ended; “I promised father I wouldn’t stop.”
“No, you won’t go,” said Sally, “till after supper. I baked some custards for you, and kept them till they were sour. You can’t go till I bake some more; so it’s no use to talk.”
“We’ll have supper early,” said Ben, “and you can get home before dark.”
They spent the time till supper in social chat, and in looking at the crops and improvements that had been made on the island.
Charlie found the swallows had multiplied amazingly, the eaves and rafters of the barn being filled with long rows of nests.
“What a master slat of fowl” said both the boys.
“I shouldn’t think you ever killed any,” said Charlie.
“We haven’t many,” replied Ben; “we’ve been saving them till you came.”
“Well Charlie,” said he, as they stood at the shore looking after John, as he departed, “I suppose Elm Island seems rather a dull place, and a small affair, after being in such a great place as Portland.”
“Portland!” cried Charlie, in high disdain, “I wouldn’t give a gravel stone on this beach for Portland, and all there is in it.”