Part Two
Whenever the girls got up in time, they’d race to the cliff to watch Mr. Flannery pull in his lobster traps. When he finished, he’d raise a weathered hand in salute, and Lucy would shout down to him.
“Fire when ready, Gridley!” (She liked playing Admiral Dewey.)
“THREE … TWO … ONE … FIRE!” Mr. Flannery would yell back, and then slam an oar on the side of his boat, which made a terrific boom.
They’d send him off with a shout of “Remember the Maine!” to which he’d respond, “To hell with Spain!”
They knew Aunt Phillipa would not approve of their befriending lobstermen. “We don’t even know who their people are!” she’d say.
“Knowing your people” meant being able to trace them back for generations, and Aunt Phillipa thought the musty portraits in the dining room were evidence of their being descended from “the best people.”
Mr. Flannery was so wonderfully willing to pretend along with them, and the girls considered him to be the very best of men. They would never understand why they were supposed to care more about some ancestor in chain mail wearing a saucepan for a hat.
From Liberty Island, by Miss Crane