The errands invented by the youthful and more or less unattached male inhabitants of the port to bring them by this path through the Ball premises were most ingenious indeed.  Early on Monday morning, while Sheila was hanging out her first lineful of clothes, Andrew Roby, clam basket and hoe on arm, appeared as the first of a long line of itinerant pedestrians who more or less bashfully bade Cap’n Ira good day as he sat in his armchair in the sun.

“What’s the matter?” asked the old man soberly.  “All the clams give out down to the cove?  I heard they was getting scarce.  You got to come clean over here to the beaches, I cal’late, to find you a mess for dinner, Andy?”

“Well—­er—­Cap’n Ira, mother was wishing for some big chowder clams,” said young Roby, his eyes squinting sidewise at the slim figure of Sheila on tiptoe to reach the line.

“Ye-as,” considered the old man.  “You got that cat still, Andy?”

“The Maybird? Oh, yes, sir!”

“And there’s a fair wind.  She’d have taken you in half the time to the outer beaches, and saved your legs,” said the caustic speaker.  “But exercise is good for you, I don’t dispute.”

A match, one might think, could easily have been touched off at Andrew’s face.  He had not much more to say, and went on without having the joy of more than a nod and smile from the busy Sheila.

Then came Joshua Jones.  Joshua usually was to be found behind his father’s counter, the elder Jones being proprietor of one of the general stores in Big Wreck Cove.  Joshua was a bustling young man with a reddish ruff of hair back of a bald brow, “side tabs” of the same hue as his hair before each red and freckled ear, and a nose a good deal like an eagle’s beak.  In fact, the upper part of his face—­Cap’n Ira had often remarked it—­was of noble proportions, while the lower part fell away surprisingly in a receding chin which seemed saved from being swallowed completely only by a very prominent Adam’s apple.

“I swan!” the captain had said judiciously.  “It’s more by good luck than good management that Josh’s chin didn’t fall into his stomach.  Only that knob in his neck acts like a stopper.”

But when the lanky young storekeeper appeared on this occasion, Cap’n Ira hailed him cheerfully before Joshua could reach the back door.

“Hi, Josh!  You ain’t goin’ for clams, too, be ye?”

“No, no, Cap’n Ira!” cried young Jones cheerfully.  “I’m looking to pick up some eggs regular.  We want to begin to ship again, and eggs seem to be staying in the nests.  He, he!  Has Mrs. Ball got any to spare?”

“I don’t cal’late she has.  You see,” said Cap’n Ira soberly, “we got another mouth to feed eggs to now.  Did you know we had Ida May Bostwick visiting us?  A young lady from Boston.  Prue’s niece, once removed.”

“Why—­I—­I—­ahem!  I saw her at church, Cap’n Ira,” faltered Joshua.

“Did ye, now?” rejoined Cap’n Ira, in apparent wonder.  “I didn’t suppose you would ever notice her, you not being much for the ladies, Joshua.”