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 the lights twinkling all along the coast to the
southward, the revolving lantern at Lighthouse Point, the steady
beacon on Eagle's Head, and now and then the flash of the great one
of Monomoy Point so far away.
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