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Through the dusky twilight, soft with woodland dews and sweet with odor of ferns and wild flowers, Billy walked slowly. For the first time in long days his heart felt at peace. The canker of loneliness that had gnawed at his spirit was there no longer. It was a pretty good old world after all. "And begobs I meant ut too," cried Harry. "When Caleb Spencer says, 'All av ut' to me, ut's laugh at him I wull, and tell him it's meself wants none av ut." Anson started to whimper. "I do have bad dreams," he confessed miserably, "but pie an' tarts ain't to blame fer it.".

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"What?" But as he said these words one of the two figures on the Minorca who stood close to the wheel, bawled, with his hand protecting his mouth from the sidelong sweep of the wind: "The ship's at your sarvice, your honours; and right glad we are that you've overhauled us, as it is about time we was under lawful government." Mrs. Wilson gazed sternly at Billy. "Willium, do you take Anson's tarts and pie?" she asked ominously. He stretched himself full length on the sand, and drank. When he arose, wiping his mouth, the cows had moved off lazily towards the Causeway. Billy did not follow at once. He did not want to miss the dance of the fire-flies above the darkening marsh along the Causeway, the twilight blush on the pine tips of Point Aux forest, the light-house gleam, nor the prayer-time hush of the mystery-filled rush-land. So he tarried beside the lake until the pines and cedars had melted into indistinct masses and the call of the whip-poor-will sounded faintly from far away. Then he turned homeward..