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"We might lose her in thick weather," said the Admiral. Meanwhile Lucy Acton watched and waited on the quarterdeck of the Aurora. The hour was about half-past four. The breeze was sinking with the sun; it still blew with weight enough to keep the sails of the three ships steady. But the dance of the sea was growing languid, the rolling foam of the breaking head was wanting in brilliance of flash and friskiness of somersault; the blue of the deep was darkening, and spread in violet shot with light blue and purple gleams to the margin of[Pg 443] the reflected glory of the sun where the lines of light steeped into the richer colour. "Yep, we heard Hinter say Scroggie was a headstrong fool, an' he wished he'd never had anythin' to do with him; but that he'd have to handle him with gloves till he got Lost Man's Swamp away from him.".

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"Shout nuthin'; you keep still." It was the family Bible. She had placed it there after reading her son Anson his evening chapter. Slowly she mastered herself and sank back into her chair. Lucy was not a young lady to sit idle. She could find something to do in every hour in the day. As Miss Acton did the housekeeping, Lucy was left to her own inventions, and being a girl of several[Pg 83] resources, she was very happy in pleasing herself. Miss Acton went to look after the affairs of the home, and to attend to the needs of a little congregation of poor who were ushered into the housekeeper's room one after another every morning, excepting Sunday, where they stated their wants and obtained such relief as Miss Acton's closets, stocked from her own purse, could supply; and if they did not get always exactly what they wished, they were sure of tender and consoling words, of sympathetic enquiry into their troubles, of a promise of some stockings for little James next week, of a roll of flannel for old Martha the day after to-morrow. Pleasant and instructive it might have been to witness this old lady in her hoop and flowered gown asking questions, handing purges, promising little gifts of apparel to the poor people, who ceaselessly sank in curtsies, or plucked at wisps of hair upon their foreheads whilst they scraped the ground behind with their feet. "Did ye iver hear av Harry O'Dule goin' back on a promise?" said the old man, reproachfully. "Help you wull I shurely, an' I'll be tellin' ye how. Go ye over t' the corner, Billy, an' pull up the loose board av the flure. Ye'll be findin' a box there. Yis, that's right. Now fetch ut here. Look ye both, byes.".