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So Ira and Sammy came to terms of peace and good will and munched together.

“I kind er guess your things is dry now, capting,” said Mrs. Hawkins. “I’ll jest put the flatiron to that air shirt and make it as slick as a slide. Salt water don’t take sterch or them collars would stan’ right up.”

While Mr. Waddy was recovering his habiliments, Isaiah Hawkins, the widow’s eldest son, came in. He owned a small coaster and was to sail that afternoon for Portland. He came to get his traps.

“Can you take a passenger?” inquired Mr. Waddy, after the usual preliminary greetings.

“Wal, capting,” replied Hawkins, with much deliberation, “I dunno as I could, an’ I dunno as I couldn’t. What kind a feller is this ere passenger? Kin he eat pork an’ fish?”

“I’m the man,” explained Mr. Waddy. “I should think I could eat pork and fish. I’ve lived in Boston.”

“Wal, capting, come along if yer like,” said Hawkins heartily, “an’ it shan’t cost yer a durned cent. ’Tain’t every feller I’d take, but I feel kinder ’bleeged to yer fer pickin’ up Sam.”