And there they did come, Miss Comfort in her best black dress—and probably her only black dress—and Mrs. Deane, Miss Comfort at least a yard in advance, Mrs. Deane trying hard to recover the distance. Polly jumped to the rail and “yoo-hooed” and waved. Miss Comfort heard and, it seemed, saw the Pequot Queen for the first time. She stopped short and stared from a half-block away. Mrs. Deane regained her lost ground and stared, too. For a long moment the two stood motionless there. Then Miss Comfort started on again, this time at a funny little half-trot. Once more Mrs. Deane was outdistanced!
Polly and Ned and Bob ran across the gangway to meet them. The others remained on deck, Kewpie grinning broadly, Laurie only half smiling, Mae emitting little whispered ejaculations, and Brose, his comforting hammer once more in hand, humming a funny sort of tune under his breath. Miss Comfort’s face was a study as she paused at the end of the gangway and swept the scene with rapt gaze. Then, still silent, she declined Ned’s offered assistance and walked firmly and proudly across the gangway and stepped down upon her own deck!
It was not until she stood at the cabin door and looked inside that the little lady became articulate. Then she drew a deep breath and said, “Well, I never!” in a voice that was scarcely more than a whisper. Then she was inside, with the others clustering about her and every one talking at once, Polly apologizing for the clock, Mae explaining about the what-not, Laurie promising water for the sink not later than Tuesday, Mrs. Deane exclaiming repeatedly to no one in particular: “Why, I had no idea! I simply had no idea!”
After a moment or two Miss Comfort seated herself in the walnut rocker with the gray horsehair upholstering and sighed again. “It’s too beautiful for words,” she said. She reached out for Polly’s hand and drew it to her, patting it with little quick gestures. “I never thought it would be like this, my dear, never, never! I just can’t find any words to thank you all; not now; perhaps some day—” She searched for and found her tiny black-bordered handkerchief. Kewpie frowned and turned toward a window. Gee, she was getting leaky again! But, as before, Laurie provided a diversion.
“Here’s the fellow that did more than the rest of us put together,” he said. Miss Comfort looked, and—
“Why, Brose Wilkins!” she cried. “You, too! Why, I didn’t see you!” Brose shook hands, his broad smile again threatening his ears.
“Yes, Miss Pansy, it’s me,” he said. “But you don’t want to believe what Laurie tells you. I ain’t done much but swing a hammer. Now, how you feeling, ma’am?”
“Very happy, Brose,” replied Miss Comfort softly. “Happier than a person has any right to be at my time of life, I guess. Isn’t it wonderful?” Her gaze swept over the little white room with its blue and white curtains aflutter in the sunlit breeze and all her friendly belongings about. “Doesn’t the picture of grandfather’s ship look beautifully there, Brose?”
Brose agreed that it did. Every one else agreed that it did. Secretly, however, Bob, who had hung the article, told himself that that representation of a barkantine with all sails set plowing through a muddy-green sea had probably been done by the village sign-painter!