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Updated: May 18, 2025
Crowded under the cliff are the bits of fishhouses, built, like the cottages above, all of shingles all gray with the passing years, for Quantuck history stretches back far into the long-ago, when, Town seven miles away, was a prosperous whaling port. But though the summer visitors come in schools like the bluefish, the little gray village on the cliff is unchanging and unchanged.
Then Phebe asked abruptly, "You said, that night at Quantuck, that you were in the middle of some work, when I ran into you. Did I break it up entirely; or have you ever finished it?" "Then you haven't seen the papers?" he asked, with boyish egotism. "Yes, I always read them. What then?" "My symphonic poem is to come out soon." "Oh, I don't ever read the music notes.
It had been no easy feat which Billy Farrington had attempted, and no one was more keenly aware of the fact than he, himself. Well and strong enough for all practical purposes, his physique in reality was no match for men whose boyhood had been sound, and no match at all for the fury of Quantuck surf in a gale.
Of all the people on Quantuck beach, Gifford Barrett had been the only one who appeared to have either conscience or common sense in dealing with Mac's idiosyncrasies. The child never seemed to bore him, or to come into collision with him, yet there was never any question who was the master.
"Yes, I like to swim," Phebe said briefly. "Evidently, for no one could swim as you do, without enjoying it," Mr. Barrett observed, with an enthusiasm which was almost boyish. "Mr. Drayton swims magnificently, and he hates it." "Is this your first season here at Quantuck?" "Yes." Under cover of her gown Theodora gave Phebe a furtive poke. Phebe turned abruptly and stared at her.
It was evident that he was a stranger, for he spoke to no one, although it is not easy to be unsocial at Quantuck. For the rest, he was tall, strongly built, with a fresh, boyish face; he wore a little pointed beard, and he carried himself with an indescribable air of being somebody at whom it was worth while to look twice. "Did you see the new man on the beach, this morning?"
Directly at their feet, the little bowl of Kidd's Pond lay among its rushes like a turquoise ringed about with malachite; beyond it was the grey village, and beyond again, the lighthouse whose tall white tower by day and whose flashing light at night are the beacons which seem to welcome the wanderers of the summer colony, whenever their steps are turned back to Quantuck.
"Well?" she asked. "Well what?" Theodora said, with a smile. "What did you want? You poked me; didn't you?" "I beg your pardon. Did I hit you? I get stiff with so long sitting still. Is Quantuck an old ground of yours, Mr. Barrett?" "No; I am a stranger here. Your little nephew is the first friendly face I have seen." "I hope you will be neighborly at the Lodge, then.
At Quantuck she had been cocksure, aggressive; now she was gentler, more womanly. He missed something of the piquancy; yet after all he rather liked the change. "Really, aren't you enjoying it down here?" he asked. "No; I am not. I'm all out of my element. I don't mind the work so much as I do the people. They despise me as a worldling, and I don't like being despised."
For the moment, it was the old Phebe who was speaking. "Don't tell," she begged. "I'd rather die than have them know it at home. How long are you going to stay here?" "About a week, I only came over last night." "I don't see why I am glad to see you," Phebe said, with characteristic frankness. "I didn't know you much at Quantuck; it probably is because I associate you with the home people.
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