"Not a bit. I'll run in to his dock tonight, an' tell him.",
"Has she returned home?" asked Captain Acton.,
"What time this morning did Miss Lucy leave the house?",
Billy sat looking away. His grey eyes had grown somber. "See here," he said suddenly, "do you know that old man Scroggie left a will?"
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Each spring the farmers attended the fishermen's annual bee of pile-driving, which meant the placing of the stakes for the pound nets—a dangerous and thankless task. Wet, weary and hungry, they would return to their homes at night with considerable more faith in the reward that comes of helping one's fellow-men than in the promise of the fishermen to keep them supplied, gratis, with all the fresh fish they needed during the season.,
He smiled now as he noted Billy's quick look of apprehension.,
After a brief pause: "Coming for us, sir. We are rising her.",
Frank Stanhope turned slowly and held out his hands.
Maurice drew her outside and closed the door. "Come over behind the woodpile, Ma, an' I'll tell you," he answered cautiously.
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The fellow ceased. He had told all he had to relate, and he was by no means such a fool as not to see in his listener's face that he had related much more than enough. He scratched his thigh as a monkey would, and fell to waiting upon his master.
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"Harry O'Dule," she gasped, as he swung the gate wide, "is it re'lly you?"
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He coloured brightly at this, and his frown was as though a shadow had come between him and the light that revealed his face.
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>From the bay-waters came the lonely cry of a loon, from the marshes the booming of night-basking bullfrogs. The hoot of the owl sounded faintly from the forest beyond; the yap of a foraging fox drifted through the night's stillness from the uplands.
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