“Well, there wasn’t anything else to give him,” said Captain Jim deprecatingly. “Nothing a dog’d care for, that is. I reckon he was hungry, for he made about two bites of it. I had a fine sleep the rest of the night but my dinner had to be sorter scanty—potatoes and point, as you might say. The dog, he lit out for home this morning. I reckon he weren’t a vegetarian.”
“The idea of starving yourself for a worthless dog!” sniffed Mrs. Doctor.
“You don’t know but he may be worth a lot to somebody,” protested Captain Jim. “He didn’t look of much account, but you can’t go by looks in jedging a dog. Like meself, he might be a real beauty inside. The First Mate didn’t approve of him, I’ll allow. His language was right down forcible. But the First Mate is prejudiced. No use in taking a cat’s opinion of a dog. ’Tennyrate, I lost my dinner, so this nice spread in this dee-lightful company is real pleasant. It’s a great thing to have good neighbors.”
“Who lives in the house among the willows up the brook?” asked Anne.
“Mrs. Dick Moore,” said Captain Jim—“and her husband,” he added, as if by way of an afterthought.
Anne smiled, and deduced a mental picture of Mrs. Dick Moore from Captain Jim’s way of putting it; evidently a second Mrs. Rachel Lynde.
“You haven’t many neighbors, Mistress Blythe,” Captain Jim went on. “This side of the harbor is
