“I'm Labe, all right. No doubt about that.... Well, why don't you say somethin'? Ain't you glad to see me?”
Azuba looked as if she did not know whether she was glad or not; in fact, as if she knew or realized any little of anything.
“Labe!” she said again. “Laban Ginn! When—WHERE did you come from?”
“Oh, from all 'round. Trumet was my last port and I made that by way of Malagy and Philadelphy. But I'm here, anyhow, and that's somethin'. My! it's good to see you. You look as natural as life. Set down and let's look at you.”
The housekeeper sat down; she appeared glad of the opportunity. Her husband faced her, grinning broadly.
“Just as handsome as ever; hey, old lady,” he observed. “And look at the duds! Say, you're rigged up fine, from truck to keelson, ain't you, Zuby! Never seen you rigged finer. A body would think she knew I was comin', wouldn't they, Cap'n Dan?”
Daniel did not answer, although he seemed much interested in the situation.
Azuba drew a hand across her forehead.
“I DIDN'T know it,” she declared emphatically. “Indeed, I didn't! Why didn't you write me, Laban Ginn?”
“Write! Write nothin'! I wanted to surprise you. But there, there! Don't set around in that rig any longer. Makes me feel as if you'd come to call on the parson. Take off your coat and bonnet and let's be sociable. And while we're talkin' you turn to and get supper. I'm pretty nigh starved to death. So's the cap'n; he said so.”