And he hurried downstairs and into the kitchen, clearing his throat with vigor and making a great to-do over the scratching of a match.
Mrs. Snow returned a few minutes later and to her the news of the arrival was told, as it was also to Perez and Jerry when they came. Mrs. Snow took charge of the supper arrangements. When the meal was ready, she said to Captain Eri:
“Now, I'll go upstairs and tell her to come down. I'll stay with Cap'n Baxter till you're through, and then p'raps, if one of you'll take my place, I'll eat my supper and wash the dishes. You needn't come up now. I'll introduce myself.”
Some few minutes passed before Miss Preston came down. When she did so her eyes were wet, but her manner was cheerful, and the unaffected way in which she greeted Captain Perez and Captain Jerry, when these two rather bashful mariners were introduced by Eri, won them at once.
The supper was a great success. It was Saturday night, and a Saturday night supper to the average New Englander means baked beans. The captains had long ago given up this beloved dish, because, although each had tried his hand at preparing it, none had wholly succeeded, and the caustic criticisms of the other two had prevented further trials. But Mrs. Snow's baked beans were a triumph. So, also, was the brown bread.
“I snum,” exclaimed Captain Perez, “if I don't b'lieve I'd sooner have these beans than turkey. What do you say, Jerry?”
“I don't know but I had,” assented the sacrifice, upon whose countenance sat a placidity that had not been there since the night of the “matching.” “'Specially if the turkey was like the one we tried to cook last Thanksgivin'. 'Member that, Eri?”
Captain Eri, his mouth full, grunted an emphatic assent.
“Tell me,” said Miss Preston, who had eaten but little, but was apparently getting more satisfaction from watching her companions, “did you three men try to keep house here alone?”
“Yes,” answered Eri dryly. “We tried. First we thought 'twas goin' to be fine; then we thought we'd like it better after we got used to it; finally we decided that by the time we got used to it we'd die, like the horse that was fed on sawdust.”