“Just like me! Well, how'd I know? I beg your pardon, Miss, I'm sure. Shan't beg your hus—I mean Mr. Paine's pardon; he ought to thank me for the compliment. Haw! haw!”
Miss Colton herself made the next remark.
“If my room is ready, Mrs. Atwood,” she said,, without even a glance in my direction, “I think I will go to it. I AM rather wet.”
“Wet! Land sakes, yes! I guess you be! Come right in, Joshua, take them clothes of yours into our room and let Mr. Paine put 'em on.”
Her husband obeyed orders. After I was alone in the room to which he conducted me and enjoying the luxury of dry socks, I heard him justifying his mistake in stentorian tones.
“I couldn't help it, Betsy,” I heard him say. “I took it for granted they was married. When I hove alongside that motor boat they was a-settin' close up together in the stern sheets and so, of course, I thought—”
“You hadn't any business to. You made that poor young lady blush somethin' dreadful. Most likely they're just keepin' company—or engaged, or somethin'. You ought to be more careful.”
I wondered if the young lady herself heard all this. I didn't see how she could help it.
Kinder-hearted people than these two never lived, I do believe. It was after three in the morning, both had been up all night, we were absolute strangers to them, and yet, without a word of complaint, they gave the remainder of the hours before daylight to making us comfortable. When I dressed as much of myself as a suit of Mr. Atwood's—his Sunday best, I presume—would cover, and, with a pair of carpet slippers about the size and shape of toy ferry boats on my feet, emerged from the bedroom, I found the table set in the kitchen, the teapot steaming and Mrs. Atwood cooking “spider bread” on the stove. When Miss Colton, looking surprisingly presentable—considering that she, too, was wearing borrowed apparel four sizes too large for her—made her appearance, we sat down to a simple meal which, I think, was the most appetizing I ever tasted.
The Atwoods were bursting with curiosity concerning our getting adrift in the motor boat. I described the adventure briefly. When I told of Lute's forgetfulness in the matter of gasolene the lightkeeper thumped the table.