After Esther went out Tim lay idly fingering the scrap book. He chuckled to himself as he thought of the way his cousin had praised the girl he hoped to persuade to love him at some future date.
“A mouth for pie! That’s the way she lauded her,” he laughed. “Nothing but a mouth for pie! Well a slice from three kinds was going some. I fancy they must be almost at ’Sconset now. I do wish I could have been the first one to show her ’Sconset,” he mused. “Where is that little poem I want?” and he rapidly turned the leaves of the scrap book.
“Here it is! I am going to read it to her some day. It fills the bill exactly I think.”
’SCONSET BY-THE-SEA
By Jean Wright
A queer old fisher village by the sea,
With long low-lying sand, where great waves boom
And break the whole year through. Wide moors
Rich with gold gorse and purple heather bloom.
The grass-grown, straggling streets run in and out
Past houses weather stained and strange to see;