Miss Doolittle looked up from under her tied-down brown hat in surprise at such a salutation.  But her surprise was increased by Captain Ben’s next remark.

“It just came into my mind,” said he, “that you was the right one to take Lyddy’s place.  You two used to be such great knit-ups that it will seem ’most like having Lyddy back again.  No,” he continued, after a little reflection, “I don’t know of anybody I had rather see sitting in Lyddy’s chair and wearing Lyddy’s things than yourself.”

“Dear me, Captain Lundy, I couldn’t think of it.  Paul’s folks expect me to stay with them while the boarder-season lasts, and I’ve as good as promised Jacob’s wife I’ll spend the winter with her.”

“Ain’t that a hard life you are laying out for yourself?  And then bum-by you will get old or sick ma’ be, and who is going to want you around then?  Every woman needs a husband of her own to take care of her.”

“I’m able to take care of myself as yet, thanks to goodness!  And I am not afraid my brothers will see me suffer in case of sickness,” returned Miss Doolittle, her cheeks flaming up like a sumach in October.

“But hadn’t you better take a little time to think it over?  Ma’ be it come sudden to you,” pleaded Captain Ben.

“No, I thank you.  Some things don’t need thinking over,” answered Miss Doolittle, plucking at the barberries more diligently than ever.

“I wish Lyddy was here.  She would convince you you were standing in your own light,” returned Lyddy’s widower in a perplexed tone.

“I don’t need one to come from the dead to show me my own mind,” retorted Miss Doolittle, firmly.

“Well, like enough you are right,” said Captain Ben, mildly, putting a few stems of barberries in her pail; “ma’ be it wouldn’t be best.  I don’t want to be rash.”

And with that he moved off, on the whole congratulating himself he had not decided to marry Miss Doolittle.

“I thought after she commenced her miserable gift of the gab, that Lyddy used to be free to admit she had a fiery tongue, for all they were such friends.  And I’m all for peace myself.  I guess, on the whole, ma’ be she ain’t the one for me, perhaps, and it is as well to look further. Why! what in the world!  Well, there! what have I been thinking of?  There is Mrs. Davids, as neat as a new cent, and the master hand to save.  She is always taking on; and she will be glad enough to have somebody to look out for her,—­why, sure enough!  And there I was right at her house this very day, and never once thought of her!  What an old dunce!”

But, fortunately, this not being a sin of commission, it could easily be rectified; and directly Captain Ben had turned about and was trotting again toward the red house on the beach.

“Pound for pound of the best white sugar,” he heard Miss Tame say as he neared the door.

“White, sugar!” repeated Mrs. Davids, her usual sigh drawn out into a little groan. “White sugar for cram berries!  Who ever heard of such a thing?  I’ve always considered I did well when I had plenty of brown.”