"Why, ain't theatres good?" said Sally.
"Wal', there's a middlin' sight o' bad things in 'em," said the Captain, "that I must say; but as long as folks is folks, why, they will be folksy;—but there's never any makin' women folk understand about them ar things."
"I am sorry they are bad," said Mara; "I want to see them."
"Wal', wal'," said the Captain, "on the hull I've seen real things a good deal more wonderful than all their shows, and they hain't no make-b'lieve to 'em; but theatres is takin' arter all. But, Sally, mind you don't say nothin' to Mis' Kittridge."
A few moments more and all discussion was lost in preparations for the meal, and each one, receiving a portion of the savory stew in a large shell, made a spoon of a small cockle, and with some slices of bread and butter, the evening meal went off merrily. The sun was sloping toward the ocean; the wide blue floor was bedropped here and there with rosy shadows of sailing clouds. Suddenly the Captain sprang up, calling out,—
"Sure as I'm alive, there they be!"
"Who?" exclaimed the children.
"Why, Captain Pennel and Moses; don't you see?"
And, in fact, on the outer circle of the horizon came drifting a line of small white-breasted vessels, looking like so many doves.
"Them's 'em," said the Captain, while Mara danced for joy.