Oh, it was
very tangly and bewildering and it took lots of explaining, but at
the end of supper there was just enough ginger-pop left to drink to
both of them.
Afterwards she and Father played the 'cello and piano, because we
asked them to, and the Bottle Man sat with his arm over Jerry's
shoulders, watching, with the light on his nice, brown, kind face.
And Father sat with his head tucked down over the 'cello, just the
way I remembered there on the Sea Monster, and the candles shone on
Aunt Ailsa's amberish-colored hair, and I thought she was the
beautifullest person in the world, except Mother. I thought about a
lot of things while the music went on, and wondered whether we'd
ever want to picnic on Wecanicut again. But I knew we would, because
Wecanicut is a kind, friendly, safe place (and we do go there now
lots, only we don't look at the Sea Monster much). I thought, too,
that perhaps if we'd never thrown the message in the bottle into the
harbor, Aunt Ailsa and Uncle Andrew would never have been married
and lived happily ever after,--that is, they've lived happily so far
and I think they'll keep on. Because if we hadn't, the Bottle Man
would never have come sailing down to see us, and he might still be
thinking Aunt Ailsa had married the Mr. Thingummy, when she hadn't
at all.
He was such a nice Bottle Man! I sat there on the couch and thought
how splendid it would be when he was our own uncle, and I laughed
when I remembered how we'd imagined that he was an ancient old
gentleman.
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