“What’s the news, father?” asked John, when the protracted meal was at length finished. “Who’s dead? who’s married?”

“Are all well on the island?” interposed Charlie.

“All are first-rate on the island. Aunt Molly Bradish, good old soul! has gone to heaven. She was buried a week ago Tuesday. Nobody else has died that you are much acquainted with; but old Mrs. Yelf is very sick, and you must go and see her. She has talked about you ever since you have been gone, and will never forget the good turns you did her after her husband died.”

“How is Uncle Isaac, father?”

“Smart as a steel trap; has killed lots of birds, and last winter bears, deer, and three wolves; and the last time I rode by there, I saw a seal-skin stretched on the barn.”

“How is Fred?”

“First-rate.”

“Has he built a new store?”

“A real nice one.”

“And put a T on the wharf?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you talk some, Charlie?” asked John. “You sit there just as mum!”

“He can’t get a word in edgewise,” said Mrs. Rhines, “you talk so fast yourself.”

“Well, then, I’ll hold my tongue.”

“There’s another hole bored in your great maple, Charlie,” said Mary.

“There is? Who bored it?”

“Guess.”

“Joe Bradish?”

“Guess again.”

“Sydney Chase?”

“Guess again. O, you’ll never guess! James Welch;” and she told him the story.

“I’ll name that spring ‘Quicksilver Spring.’”

“Father,” said Mary, “you haven’t told the boys who is married.”

“Indeed, their questions follow each other so fast, I lose my reckoning. Joe Griffin.”

“Joe!” cried John. “Where does he live?”

“Right on the shore, between Pleasant Point and Uncle Isaac’s, in a log house.”

“Then he’ll be close to me,” said Charlie.

“Yes, only two lots between. They say he’s raised the biggest crop of wheat that was ever raised in this town, and has got the handsomest crop of corn growing.”

“Then Sally mustered up courage to marry him?”

“Marry him! She may thank her stars she got him. Let them talk as much as they like about his being a harum-scarum fellow. There’s not a smarter, better-hearted fellow in this place, nor a man of better judgment. He showed a good deal more sense than our Ben, who, folks think, is all sense.”

“How, father?”

“Why, Ben built his house, and then set his fire, and liked to have burned up his house, baby, and all the lumber that went into his vessel, and did scorch his wife; but this harum-scarum fellow burnt his land over first, and put something in the ground to live on.”

“They say,” said Mrs. Rhines, “that they are the most affectionate pair that ever was. Joe thinks there is not her equal in the world.”

“That’s just what he ought to think, wife. I hope it will last, and not be with them as it was with Joe Gubtail and his Dorcas.”

“How was that?”

“Why, he said, when they were first married, he loved her so well he wanted to eat her up, and now he wishes he had.”

“I don’t think it will, for they have been fond of each other since they were children, and ought to be well acquainted.”

“You haven’t said anything about Flour, Captain Rhines,” said Charlie.

“O, he ain’t Flour any longer. He lives in a frame house on his own land, is Mr. Peterson, has money at interest, can read, write, and cipher, and is master-calker at Wiscasset.”

“Good! Won’t we go over and see him? Didn’t they cut up some rusties on Joe when he was married?”

“No.”

“I should have thought the boys would have done something to him to pay him up for all his tricks, for there’s hardly anybody in town but has something laid up against him.”

“So should I,” said John. “I should have thought they would have given him a house-warming, and paid up old scores.”

“I suppose there were good reasons why they didn’t.”

“What were they?”

“One was, that everybody loves and respects his wife; another, that Joe had been very quiet for a long time before he was married, and they didn’t quite like to stir him up again, for fear they might get the worst of it, get into a bear-trap, or he might fire a charge of peas or salt into them. Joe Griffin isn’t a very safe fellow to stir up.”

“I suppose,” said Charlie, “they thought as I did about the bear at Pleasant Cove—if you’ll let me alone I’ll let you alone.”

“That’s it.”

“I can tell you some news,” said Mrs. Rhines.

“Let’s have it, mother.”

“Isaac has arrived.”

“Isaac Murch?”

“Yes.”

“And has come back mate,” said the captain.

“Where is he?”

“In Boston; but he’s coming home to stay some time. They’re going to heave the vessel out, recalk, and overhaul her thoroughly.”

“Where is Henry Griffin?”

“Gone to Liverpool in a snow out of Portland.”

The conversation was now interrupted by the entrance of Fred. While the boys were greeting and talking with him, Mrs. Rhines and the girls embraced the opportunity to clear away the table; and when this necessary duty was accomplished, all drew up, and formed a happy circle.

“Here we are, all together again,” said John, thrusting his chair between Charlie and Fred, and taking a hand of each, while Tige, who could bear “no rival near the throne,” put his nose in John’s lap.

“Now,” said Mrs. Rhines, “we have answered all your questions, and told you all the news, we should like to have you tell us some; and first, why did you come afoot? You wrote us you was coming by water. What has become of the boat, Charlie?”

“Sold her to Mr. Foss. Just before we were going to start, he offered me twenty-five dollars for her. I asked John what he thought about it. He said, sell her; ’twould be a great deal better fun to come through the woods, and camp out; that sailing was nothing new to us. So we put our things aboard a coaster, took our packs, and started.”

“And you had rather go through all that than come comfortably in the summer time, with a fair wind, in a good boat?”

“Yes, father; we had a first-rate time. I can tell you they are going ahead in Portland, building vessels at a great rate. Congress has granted money to finish the light on Portland Head, and it’s almost done.”

“They’ve got wagons and sleighs there,” said Charlie. “They don’t ride altogether on horseback as they do here. In one of these wagons a farmer can carry a whole ox, or three or four calves; carry a barrel of molasses, and two folks ride besides; or eight or ten bushels of potatoes, and whole firkins of butter. They don’t have to carry a little, stuck in saddle-bags.”

“I should be afraid they would upset,” said Mrs. Rhines.

“Father, they’ve got the biggest ox-wagons, that haul monstrous loads of boards, and the wheels have iron hoops on the rims. Our wheels are all wood.”

“You can’t expect such things, John, in new places. Portland is an old-settled place.”

“They’ve got a wagon with two horses, that carries the mails and passengers to Portsmouth, to meet the Boston stage. They’ve got chaises, lots of them. All the ministers have them; and there’s a man, just come there from Newburyport, that’s going to make chaises.”

“Captain Rhines,” said Charlie, “there are big Spanish and English ships come there after spars.”

“It must be a great place,” said Mary.

“I guess it is. Everybody that lives there says it can’t help being a great place. They are expecting it will be an awful big place; and there’s a company getting up to build a wharf clear to the channel,—O, I don’t dare to tell how long!—with stores on it. They’re going to call it Union Wharf.”

“Father,” said John, “a man came there lately who wears loose breeches that come clear to his shoes. They call ’em pantaloons. Captain Starrett says it’s because he’s spindle-shanked, and wants to cover his legs up.”

In the course of the afternoon, Captain Rhines put the saddle on the horse, and sent Elizabeth over to Uncle Isaac’s; and when she returned, both he and his wife came with her.

“Charlie,” said Captain Rhines, “in the morning you and John must go and see old Mrs. Yelf.”

“O, sir, I can’t go anywhere or do anything till I see father and mother.”

“You must see her, because the poor old lady won’t live long, and she longs to see you. It will take but a few minutes to go over in the morning, and then John can set you on to the island.”