ame old reefs and shoals he's been
beatin' about for years. No matter how often he shoots the sun, the
computation's bound to be just the same. He's there, or thereabout."

"That's the way with most longshoremen, Ida May," said Prudence,
sighing. "They make awful poor farmers if they are good seamen.
Can't seem to combine the two trades."

"I cal'late that's so," agreed Cap'n Ira, his eyes twinkling.
"They'd ought to examine all the babies born on the Cape first off,
and them that ain't web-footed ought to be sent to agricultural
school 'stead of to the fishing. But that ain't why our potato
crop's a failure this year. And as far as I see, talking won't cure
many fish, either."

"Can't I help?" asked Ida May in her gentle voice. "You know, I've
come here to work. I don't expect to play lady."

"Well, I don't know. It ain't the kind of work you are used to."

"I've been used to work all my life, and all kinds of work,"
interposed the girl bravely.

"But you seem so eddicated," Prudence said.

"Getting an education did not keep me from learning how to use my
hands."

"Well, Sarah Honey was a right good housekeeper," granted Prudence.

At that the girl fell suddenly silent, as she did whenever Sarah
Honey's name was mentioned. And yet she knew she must get used to
such references to her presumed mother. Prudence frequently recalled
incidents which had happened when Sarah Honey visited the Ball house
before she was married.

They had supper, a plentiful meal if there was not much variety.
Prudence had made a "two-egg cake" and opened a jar of beach-plum
preserves to follow the creamed fish and biscuits.

"I must learn to make biscuit as good as these," said Ida May.

"I expect you are more used to riz bread. City folks are. But on
the Cape we don't have that much. Our men folks want hot bread at
every meal. We pamper 'em," said Prudence.

"I'm pampered 'most to death, that's a fact," grumbled Cap'n Ira.

Ida May briskly cleared the table and washed the dishes. She would
not allow Prudence even to wipe them.

"I'm sitting here like a lady, Ira," said the little old woman.
"This child will work herself to death if we let her."

"A willin' horse always does get driv' too fast," commented Cap'n
Ira.

"A new broom sweeps clean," laughed the girl, rinsing out the
dishcloths and hanging them on the line behind the stove.

They went outside in the gloaming and sat in a sheltered nook where
they could watch t