fish, and they were out huntin' for it, because all the help was busy."
"That means Old Lady Willard's goin', and Him, and his Wife, and the three girls, Grace and Marie and Maud,
and the two little boys."
"Yes."
"And they will take the ladies'-maids, and His man. Maybe that pretty young lady that visits there so much
will go, too."
"Maybe; and the lady that teaches the little boys will go."
"O Lord, yes! They couldn't get on without her. My! there will be 'most enough to fill the ship."
"About enough to sink my old one I sailed around when you was aboard," said Joe, and laughed.
Martha never laughed. The seriousness of New England was in her very soul. She was happy and
good-natured, but she saw nothing whatever to laugh at in all creation. She never had.
"Land, yes!" said she. "You know there wa'n't any room in that little cabin."
"Not more'n enough to hold you and your Bible and sewin'-machine," said Captain Joe. He cast a glance at the
old sewing-machine as he spoke, and laughed again. It was perfectly useless because of that long-ago voyage,
and the fact always amused him. Martha considered it no laughing matter. The sewing-machine was dear to
her, even in its wrecked state. She kept the Bible on it, and a little cup and saucer.
"The chowder's done," said she. "Draw up, Joe."
Joe drew up a chair to the table. "Smells prime," said he.
"Guess it's all right."
"Ef your chowders ever wa'n't all right I'd think the sun was goin' to rise in the west next mornin'," said Joe.
Martha ladled the chowder into the beautiful bowl, then into heavy, chipped plates. The two ate with relish.
"To-morrow's Saturday," said Joe. "That means we can go to Our House come Sunday."
Martha nodded. Her good mouth widened in the semblance of a smile. Her steady eyes gleamed with happy
intelligence at her husband.
"It will seem nice," said she. "Land! I'd been thinkin' we might have to wait till 'way into October, the way we
did last year, and now it's only the first of August."
"I'm feelin' jest as set up as you be about it," said Joe.
That night all the family from the great house where Tom Ellerton had called went by train to Boston. They
were to stay in the city overnight to be ready for the steamer. Not one of the numerous company even noticed
Captain Joe Dickson and his wife Martha, who were at the station watching them closely, hearing everything
that was said, noting all details -- the baggage, the host of servants.
All the servants were to be out of the house next day, the Dicksons heard Her tell another lady who inquired.