"I feel just exactly like the Pilgrim Fathers, don't you, Mr. Wing?" Jane said as she and Frances climbed up the wharf ladder from the dinghy.
These two girls and Mr. Wing had grown to be the closest of friends and it had become a habit for them to take the little dinghy when the party went ashore, leaving the tender for the others. Mr. Wing had proved himself a delightful companion. In fact, as Frances said: "He is every bit as crazy as we are."
"You will love Plymouth, and then I want to sail you over to Provincetown, too. It is not nearly so charming as Plymouth, but it is interesting at that. Primarily, it is a fishing village but a lot of artists summer there and, sometimes, they have rather good exhibitions."
Twilight had just settled over the little town as the three started up the hill from the water front. There was a great peace about the streets and a gentle quietness over all the houses. The pilgrims walked along without speaking, taking in the simple beauty of the white houses, guarded by tremendous elms.
"And we have the nerve to talk about the Southern homes as if they were the only homes worth mentioning," said Jane suddenly. "Of course these are very different but I like them."
Mr. Wing smiled. "You know," he said, "that these houses are to me very much like the New England people, strong, simple and dignified and infinitely beautiful."
"It would be a wonderful place to come and grow very old in and a wonderful place to have had as your childhood home, but somehow I can't imagine it for schoolboys and girls, can you?" mused Frances.
"Well, Jane," said Mr. Wing, as they neared the center of town, "Frances and I have a bunch of telegrams and letters to send and, if you don't want to bore yourself by waiting around for us, why don't you go up to the top of that hill where the graveyard is and look around--it is very lovely--and then meet us and our daughters and brothers and friends at the Samoset House in an hour. I thought it would be kind of fun to have dinner there to-night. It is famous for its food."
"That will be dandy, if Frances will promise to send Daddy a telegram for me saying that Jack and I are still alive and kicking. I have been having too wonderful a time to write as much as I should and I know he will want to know what has become of me," and Jane started up the hill to the cemetery.