The captain put back his head and laughed.
“Sign somethin’ had happened, I should think,” he answered. “What’s goin’ to happen is that Pete Shattuck’ll get his buggy painted free-for-nothin’, at my expense. How’s supper gettin’ along? Is it ready?”
“Ready? It’s been ready for so long that it’ll have to be got ready all over again if.... Oh! Come right in, Mr. Graves! I hope you’re drier now.”
Captain Warren sprang from the chair to greet his visitor, who was standing in the doorway.
“Yes, come right in, Mr. Graves,” he urged, cordially. “Set down by the fire and make yourself comf’table. Abbie’ll have somethin’ for us to eat in a jiffy. Pull up a chair.”
The lawyer came forward hesitatingly. The doubts which had troubled him ever since he entered the house were still in his mind.
“Thank you, Captain,” he said. “But before I accept more of your hospitality I feel I should be sure there is no mistake. I have come on important business, and—”
“Hold on!” The captain held up a big hand. “Don’t you say another word,” he commanded. “There’s just one business that interests me this minute, and that’s supper. There’s no mistake about that, anyhow. Did you say ‘Come ahead,’ Abbie? or was you just going to? Good! Right into the dinin’ room, Mr. Graves.”
The dining room was long and low. The woodwork was white, the floor green painted boards, with braided rag mats scattered over them. There were old-fashioned pictures on the walls, pictures which brought shudders to the artistic soul of Atwood Graves. A broad bay window filled one side of the apartment, and in this window, on shelves and in wire baskets, were Miss Baker’s cherished and carefully tended plants. As for the dining table, it was dark, old-fashioned walnut, as were the chairs.
“Set right down here, Mr. Graves,” ordered the captain. “I’ll try to keep you supplied with solid cargo, and Abbie’ll ’tend to the moistenin’. Hope that teapot is full up, Abbie. Hot tea tastes good after you’ve swallered as much cold rain as Mr. Graves and I have.... Father-we-thank-thee-for-these-mercies-set-before-us-Amen.... How’s your appetite when it comes to clam pie, Mr. Graves?”