Uncle William looked at her over his glasses. “I was going to show you where things be,” he said.
“I know where everything is.’.rdquo; The little smile played about her lips. “And I don’t need any help.” She whisked the cloth from the table and bore it away.
Uncle William’s eye followed her.
“There’s a letter for you.” She took it from behind the dock and laid it on the table.
Uncle William took it up with slow fingers. “I gen’ally read my letters first thing,” he said reflectively.
“It’s better to have your supper first.” She disappeared out of the door and they heard a little rattle of pans. Uncle William chuckled. “Some like the sou’-west wind,” he said. “You read it, Benjy.”
Bodet held out his hand. “They’re in Greenland,” he said, glancing at the postmark.
“I reckoned they ’d be.” Uncle William reached down the map and they bent over the table, talking and tracing the line of travel and reading bits from the letter.
The girl, as she moved about the room, glanced at them contentedly now and then. When she had finished her work, she took off her apron and folded it up. “I’m going now,” she announced, “I’ll be up in the morning—along about six.” She moved toward the door.
Uncle William looked up, blinking. He had come from Labrador at a lively rate.... “Why—you can’t go—alone, Celia. You wait a minute whilst I see about getting ready to go with you.”