There were but three houses there, old, weather-faded shacks strewn around with broken lobster-pots and nets and discarded tin cans and rubbish.

The folks they met, and they met them all, from babes in arms to a ninety-eight-year-old great-grandmother, looked sad and listless and run-to-seed.

Even the children seemed too old for their years.

It was all rather depressing, in spite of the evident kindliness of the people, and the boys were glad to get away again.

They bought some lobsters and nearly a gallon of blueberries before they went.