"There, little eel." Catherine knotted the blue tie. "Run along. Where's Spencer?"
"He's washing hisself, I think." Marian smoothed up her blue sock with a little preening motion, and vanished.
"Mis' Hammond!" came Amelia's thin call, and Catherine went back to the kitchen.
Letty was in bed on the porch, her smeary white duck sitting on the pillow beside her, her deep little voice running on in an unintelligible story of the day.
"Supper ready, Catherine?" Father stood in the doorway of the dining room, Marian and Spencer at his heels. "We fishermen are starved. Oh, you aren't dressed yet."
"I'm as dressed as I shall be." Catherine pushed her hair back from a moist forehead. "Let's eat."
"Well, we like to see you dressed up like a lady once a day, don't we?" Charles grinned at her as he pulled up his chair.
Catherine felt her hands twitch in her lap. "Steady," she warned herself. "He's just joking. I've been busy—I should have dressed this afternoon——"
"Some flounder!" Charles bit into the golden brown fish. "What you been doing all the time, Catherine, while we went provender hunting?"
"Thinking," said Catherine slowly. "That is, I thought in between Letty's demands for more story."