CHAPTER III HOW THE BOAT CAME ASHORE
Vaguely Ann heard a bell ringing. She thought that she was lobstering with Jo and that Jo was pulling up a bell in one of the heavy lobster pots. They were bobbing about on waves as high as mountains.
“It is seven o’clock! No farmer stays in bed late, you know.”
It was Mrs. Seymour’s voice.
How could her mother have come away out to sea? Ann sat up in bed, not awake yet. And then she saw the sun pouring in through the open windows. Her mother was standing in the hall between Ann’s room and Ben’s, swinging an old ship’s bell that she must have found somewhere in the house.
“In one minute, mother!”
How queer to wash in a huge bowl in her room instead of in a bathroom! And how lovely to dry oneself while standing on a braided mat before the washstand with the sun pouring down on one’s back and legs! Bloomers and middy had miraculously appeared from her baggage; some fairy had been at work while Ann was sleeping.
The smell of breakfast tweaked her hungry nose and she scurried madly with her dressing, for Ben and Helen would eat everything in sight if they felt half as starved as she did.
The kitchen seemed altogether different in the daytime. It had grown smaller without the flickering shadows from the lamps. The ceiling was low and Mr. Seymour bumped his head as he came through the doorway; he would have to remember to stoop.