It was early afternoon; but a green and dreary light lay upon sea and
land as dim as though the hour was that of sunset. In the silence
punctuating the desultory conversation, the sharp _swish, swish_ of the
sand upon the panes almost drowned the complaint of the fishfly.
"We're going to have a humdinger of a gale," announced Milt Baker, the
last to enter and bang the store door. "She's pullin' 'round into the
no'th-east right now, and I tell Mandy she might's well make up her
mind to my lyin' up tight an' dry for a while. Won't be no clams
shipped from _these_ flats to-morrow."
"High you'll likely be," agreed the storekeeper. "How _dry_ ye'll be,
Milt, remains to be seen."
"_In_-side, or _aout_?" chuckled Cap'n Joab, for
Milt Baker's failing was not hidden under a bushel.
Amiel hastened to toll attention away from his side partner. "This
wind's driv' them picture folks to cover," he said. "They was makin'
some fillums over there on the wreck of the _Goldrock_, that's laid out
four year or so in Ham Cove------"
"Nearer five year," put in Cap'n Joab, a stickler for facts.
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