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But I heard you say somethin' about comin' for trunks. Whose trunks?" "Whose? Why, hers and the young-one's, I presume likely. 'Twas them I fetched from Luretta Smalley's. Now she wants me to take 'em back there." A tremendous gust, driven in from the sea, tore the sweater from the Winslow head and shoulders and wrapped it lovingly about one of the posts in the yard.
Kennon's voice was gentle but the interne flushed a dull red. "Sorry, sir." "Don't mention it. It's normal for a graduate to confuse liberty with license." Kennon smiled. "Don't worry. I shan't report you." "That's good of you, sir." Smalley's face registered relief. Demerits were difficult to erase particularly ones of courtesy. Kennon wondered if the young man would report himself.
Smalley's; and, owing to this sort of indirect connection with me, Skipp and Smalley had, for some years past, picked up the crumbs that fell from my table, in the shape of cases brought to my office, which, for various reasons, I did not think it worth while to undertake. My professional patronage was, in this way, of some importance to the firm.
"The wind has changed, and the fire is awful, and I can't help it," sounded Miss Smalley's voice, meek and deprecating, through the keyhole, at which she had listened till she had heard Bel moving. Bel lit the gas, and then went out into the passage. Flakes of fire were coming down over the roofs into the Place itself. The great rush and blaze were all this way, now.
"We-ll, I guess likely I could guarantee that fish would go 'most any way the wind did, unless it should take a notion to blow straight up and down, which don't happen often. So you know Cap'n Hedge, do you? Relation of his, are you? Visitin' there?" "No. Mamma and I are boarding at Mrs. Smalley's, but I go over to call on Captain Hedge 'most every day." "Sho! Want to know!
Still the great fire roared, and put out the stars. Still the room was red with the light of it. Aunt Blin fell asleep. Bel lay and listened, and wondered. She would not move to get up and look again, lest she should rouse her aunt. Suddenly, she heard the boom of a great explosion. She started up. Miss Smalley's voice sounded at the door.
"Another month of this leisure and I'll be as wrinkled as the rest of them." Smalley's magic fingers paused in their manipulation of a soft fold of satin. "Worked? Earned a living? Used your wits and brains every day against the wits and brains of other folks?" "Every day."
Well, that's nice and sociable. So you're boardin' at Luretta Smalley's. My! you're consider'ble ways from home, ain't you? Is your mamma with you?" For the first time the youthful caller's poise seemed a trifle shaken. "No-o . . . no," she stammered, and added, hastily: "How much is this fish, please?" "I generally sell that sort of fish for about two dollars."
Jed rubbed his chin. "The which field?" he drawled. "The clam field. The place where Mrs. Smalley's fish man unplants the clams she makes the chowder of. He does it with a sort of hoe thing and puts them in a pail. He was doing it yesterday; I saw him." Jed's eyes twinkled at the word "unplants," but another thought occurred to him.
"I cal'late your ma didn't care much for the board at Luretta Smalley's," he observed. He couldn't help thinking the remark an odd one to make to a child. "Oh, I don't think she meant Mrs. Smalley's," explained Barbara. "She liked Mrs. Smalley's pretty well, well as any one can like boarding, you know," this last plainly another quotation.
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