"No." Mrs. Keeler shook her head with finality, "I can't trust you out o' my sight. You gotta set right there where you be.",
"I see it," Maurice replied in guarded tones. "Bill, that light's comin' this way, sure as shootin'.",
"There they be now," she said grimly. "The two worst boys in Scotia, Mrs. Wilson."
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"Go on, Lighthouse girl. You always thought you would like our wedding to be—when?",
Billy nodded. "You see, Anse, I knowed that sooner or later you was bound to tell Ma, so I played safe, that's all.",
Sir William now rose from the table and went to an armchair at the open window, upon the seat or ledge of which stood a jar of tobacco, some clay pipes, and a little machine for firing a match dipped in brimstone, a very ingenious contrivance as old as the days of the second Charles: namely, a little pistol-shaped fire-maker whose trigger struck a full and brilliant spark from the flint and kindled the tinder. He filled his pipe and lighted it, and sat in conversation with his son, in whom the particular humour or mood would have been extremely hard to settle by the most sagacious of critical observers. He was speedy in answering his father, and his language did not show much abstraction of mind; but even the Admiral noticed that there was an undercurrent of thought in his son which was pursuing a very different course from the stream as it appeared on the surface.,
As he climbed the rail fence his eyes swept the Settlement below, resting at length on the jail-like wall in the edge of the Scroggie timber, above which the tall derrick protruded like a white, scarred face. "Humph!" he mused, "Scroggie and Hinter must either have struck water, or give up. Their rig's quiet after chuggin' away day and night for weeks."
But this sort of argument did not fall within the frame of Mr Greyquill's picture of integrity. It was a letter lying ready for anybody's hand in a public way; next, it was not addressed; third, it was not signed; and fourth, though the contents were apparently in Mr Lawrence's handwriting, yet some people did write, as Greyquill knew, so wonderfully alike that there was no reason to conclude without strong internal evidence that the letter Mr Greyquill held was written by Mr Lawrence. Whatever else it was, it was certainly a draft roughly pencilled of a letter that had been copied in ink and no doubt despatched. Here and there was an erasure in ink, which proved that it had been copied in ink and corrected in certain places by the pen that was transcribing it. He had not proceeded far when his eyebrows, which, as we have heard, inimitably expressed the aspect of two white mice, arched their backs to an extraordinary degree as though in imitation of a cat when enraged; his mouth took on the posture of a whistle; with his eyes rooted to[Pg 140] the sheet he stopped and scratched his head until he nearly tumbled his hat into the road.
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It is needless, of course, to say that this searching walk was in vain. Whatever lay white in his road he rushed at, and in his gizzard he cursed the vast number of pieces of white paper which did somehow, as though distributed by innumerable malicious Greyquills, attract his eye and retard his progress whilst he turned them over.
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"All right, Harry," he said airily, "if that's all you know about charms, I guess you haven't any that 'ud help us much. But let me tell you that rabbit-foot charm kin do wonders. It'll not only keep you from bein' bit by snakes but by sayin' certain words to it you kin bring a snake right in to your feet with it, an' you kin pick it up an' handle it without bein' bit, too."
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"You, Anse!" came Mrs. Wilson's voice. "Have I gotta limber you up with the strap, after all?"
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Halin-Chen Response,
>"Thanks. Now you mustn't tell me when it comes again—the light—I want to see if I can feel it. I hope—"
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