"Madam," said he, "I just came back to ask what became of
your brother-in-law through his wife's not bein' able to put no
light in the window?"
"The storm drove him ashore on our side of the bay," said
she, "and the next mornin' he came up to our house, and I told
him all that had happened to me. And when he took our boat and
went home and told that story to his wife, she just packed up and
went out West, and got divorced from him. And it served him
right, too."
"Thank you, ma'am," said Captain Jenkinson, and going out
of the gate, he clambered up over the wheel, and the wagon
cleared for Cuppertown.
When the elderly mariners were gone, the Widow Ducket, still
standing in the door, turned to Dorcas.
"Think of it!" she said. "To tell all that to me, in my own
house! And after I had opened my one jar of brandied peaches,
that I'd been keepin' for special company!"
"In your own house!" ejaculated Dorcas. "And not one of them
brandied peaches left!"
The widow jingled the four quarters in her hand before she
slipped them into her pocket.
"Anyway, Dorcas," she remarked, "I think we can now say we
are square with all the world, and so let's go in and wash the
dishes."
"Yes," said Dorcas, "we're square."
CAPTAIN ELI'S BEST EAR
The little seaside village of Sponkannis lies so quietly upon a
protected spot on our Atlantic coast that it makes no more stir
in the world than would a pebble which, held between one's finger
and thumb, should be dipped below the surface of a millpond and
then dropped.
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