“Then it has happened before?” asked Kate.  “I wondered why you started so suddenly to come in.”

“Happened!” said the captain.  “Bless ye, yes!  I’ll tell you my views about these p’ints one o’ those days.  I’ve thought a good deal about ’em by spells.  Not that I can explain ’em, nor anybody else, but it’s no use to laugh at ’em as some folks do.  Cap’n Lant—­you know Cap’n Lant?—­he and I have talked it over consider’ble, and he says to me, ’Everybody’s got some story of the kind they will believe in spite of everything, and yet they won’t believe yourn.’”

The shower seemed to be over now, and we felt compelled to go home, as the captain did not go on with his remarks.  I hope he did not see Danny’s wink.  Skipper Scudder, who was Danny’s friend and partner, came up just then and asked us if we knew what the sign was when the sun came out through the rain.  I said that I had always heard it would rain again next day.  “O no,” said Skipper Scudder, “the Devil is whipping his wife.”

After dinner Kate and I went for a walk through some pine woods which were beautiful after the rain; the mosses and lichens which had been dried up were all freshened and blooming out in the dampness.  The smell of the wet pitch-pines was unusually sweet, and we wandered about for an hour or two there, to find some ferns we wanted, and then walked over toward East Parish, and home by the long beach late in the afternoon.  We came as far as the boat-landing, meaning to go home through the lane, but to our delight we saw Captain Sands sitting alone on an old overturned whaleboat, whittling busily at a piece of dried kelp.  “Good evenin’,” said our friend, cheerfully.  And we explained that we had taken a long walk and thought we would rest awhile before we went home to supper.  Kate perched herself on the boat, and I sat down on a ship’s knee which lay on the pebbles.

“Didn’t get any hurt from being out in the shower, I hope?”

“No, indeed,” laughed Kate, “and we had such a good time.  I hope you won’t mind taking us out again some time.”

“Bless ye! no,” said the captain.  “My girl Lo’isa, she that’s Mis Winslow over to Riverport, used to go out with me a good deal, and it seemed natural to have you aboard.  I missed Lo’isa after she got married, for she was al’ays ready to go anywhere ’long of father.  She’s had slim health of late years.  I tell ’em she’s been too much shut up out of the fresh air and sun.  When she was young her mother never could pr’vail on her to set in the house stiddy and sew, and she used to have great misgivin’s that Lo’isa never was going to be capable.  How about those fish you caught this morning? good, were they?  Mis Sands had dinner on the stocks when I got home, and she said she wouldn’t fry any ’til supper-time; but I calc’lated to have ’em this noon.  I like ’em best right out o’ the water.  Little more and we should have got them wet.  That’s one of my whims; I can’t bear to let fish get rained on.”