Cyn. Thank you, Cap’n Cranberry. (Aghast.) Oh, I beg your pardon. You see so many call you that and——
Ber. That’s all right! That’s all right! I got to be a Berry, and I might as well be a cranberry as any other kind. Evenin’, ladies. [Exit, C.
Ariel (arranging things on the table, and pouring tea). Here’s supper, Miss Cynthy. You’ll feel better after you have some hot tea.
Cyn. (looking after Ber.). I—I believe I’m feeling better anyway.
Ber. (outside). Belay there! Heave to! All aboard! Gid’ap! Now, we’re off!
Ariel (smiling as she listens). I like him, Miss Cynthy; although I only saw him a minute and didn’t really see him either.
Cyn. (sitting by table and beginning to eat). He’s a splendid man if there ever was one!
Ariel. Who is with him at the light?
Cyn. An old shipmate. They’re doing their own housekeeping, an’ I must say I’d like to see the inside of a house run by a couple of men. Cap’n Berry followed the sea for years, and I have heard tell that he lost his wife and child in a shipwreck. I don’t believe he’s ever got over it. From something he said one day I imagine he’s had a pretty sad and lonesome life, but he certain makes the best of it. He’s invested in a cranberry bog up the cape, an’ that and his name was enough to set folks goin’, and he’s pretty generally called Cap’n Cranberry, but I’m mortified to death to think I should call him that right to his face.
Ariel. I don’t believe he cared.