“Sakes alive, child! air you able?” cried the woman in alarm.
“Yes,” said Peggy stoutly. “And I have troubled thee greatly, I fear.”
“Why, you little storm-tossed bird,” exclaimed the woman, “don’t you go for to call it trouble. Me and Henry just feel as though you was sent to us. Well, if you will get up, here are your clothes.” She brought Peggy her own things, clean and dry, and proceeded to help her dress. “There, you do look better now you are dressed. Let me help you to the kitchen.”
She put her arm about the maiden, and drew her gently across the room to the one beyond which was kitchen and living-room as well. It was a large room with a sanded floor clean scoured, a high backed settle, a deal table, a dresser with pewter plates ranged in rows, reflecting the redness and radiance of a glowing fire in a huge fireplace. The woman bustled about hospitably.
“You must have something to eat,” she declared. “You’ve had naught but gruel for so long that you must be hungry.”
“I am,” replied Peggy, watching her in a maze of content. Presently she sat up as a thought came to her. “Friend,” she cried, “how came I here?”
“Why, Henry brought you,” responded the woman. “It was after the big storm. We ain’t seen such a storm in years. Henry’s my husband. He’s a fisherman, as mayhap you’ve surmised. That is, he fishes for food, but I reckon you might call him a wrecker too,” she added with a smile. “Well, as I was saying, he was down on the beach when you was washed up by the waves. He thought you was dead at first, but when you got up, and tried to walk he just ran over to you as you fell and brought you right up to the house. Land! but we thought you was never coming to! But you did, and now you’ll be all right in a day or two.”
“How good thee has been,” said Peggy gratefully. “Why, thou and thy husband have saved my life. I was so cold in the water and I—I was drowning. Then that terrible wave threw me——” She paused shuddering at the remembrance.
“Dear heart, don’t think about it,” exclaimed the good dame hastening to her. “Here, child, eat this piece of chicken. It will hearten you up more than anything. After a bit mayhap you can tell me about yourself. But not a word until every bite of chicken is gone.”
Peggy smiled at the good woman’s insistence, but did not refuse the chicken. Her appetite was awakened and keen, and she ate the piece with such a relish that her hostess was well pleased. “There now! you look better already,” she declared. “Henry will be glad to see it. He takes a heap of interest in the folks he saves. I reckon he’s saved more lives than any man on the coast of North Carolina.”