It was two weeks after the accident, and, in a great measure, the bitter memories of it had passed. Dodo was doing as well as could be expected, and, save for a slight limp, Grace had fully recovered.
The three chums—"graces" Will called them—arrived at Betty's house at the same time. With sparkling eyes she led them into the parlor.
"But what is it?" whispered Amy.
"If it's a strange young man, I'm not going to go and meet him," said Mollie, with quick decision.
"It's a man, but not young, and I think you'll be glad to meet him," answered Betty.
Grace instinctively looked at her dress.
"Oh, you're all right!" cried Betty. Then she threw open the parlor door. "Here they are, Uncle Amos!" she cried, gaily, and the girls beheld a rather grizzled, elderly man, with tanned face and hands, and wrinkled cheeks, like an apple that has kept all winter, with the merriest blue eyes imaginable, and when he spoke there sounded the heartiest voice that could well fit into the rather small parlor.
"Avast there!" he cried, as he saw the girls. "So these are your consorts; eh, Bet? They do you proud! May I be keel-hauled if I've seen a prettier set of sails on a craft in a long while.
