ering over Captain Edwardes's wonderful poem,
and looked back to see why all was silent. The fishermen pressed
forward as that town official who had talked to Cheyne bobbed up on the
platform and began to read the year's list of losses, dividing them
into months. Last September's casualties were mostly single men and
strangers, but his voice rang very loud in the stillness of the hall.

"September 9th. Schooner _Florrie Anderson_ lost, with all aboard, off
the Georges.

"Reuben Pitman, master, 50, single, Main Street, City.

"Emil Olsen, 19, single, 329 Hammond Street, City. Denmark.

"Oscar Standberg, single, 25. Sweden.

"Carl Stanberg, single, 28, Main Street. City.

"Pedro, supposed Madeira, single, Keene's boardinghouse. City.

"Joseph Welsh, alias Joseph Wright, 30, St. John's, Newfoundland."

"No--Augusty, Maine," a voice cried from the body of the hall.

"He shipped from St. John's," said the reader, looking to see.

"I know it. He belongs in Augusty. My nevvy."

The reader made a pencilled correction on the margin of the list, and
resumed.

"Same schooner, Charlie Ritchie, Liverpool, Nova Scotia, 33, single.

"Albert May, 267 Rogers Street, City, 27, single.

"September 27th.--Orvin Dollard, 30, married, drowned in dory off
Eastern Point."

That shot went home, for one of the widows flinched where she sat,
clasping and unclasping her hands. Mrs. Cheyne, who had been listening
with wide-opened eyes, threw up her head and choked. Dan's mother, a
few seats to the right, saw and heard and quickly moved to her side.
The reading went on. By the time they reached the January and February
wrecks the shots were falling thick and fast, and the widows drew
breath between their teeth.

"February 14th.--Schooner _Harry Randolph_ dismasted on the way home from
Newfoundland; Asa Musie, married, 32, Main Street, City, lost overboard.

"February 23d.--Schooner _Gilbert Hope_; went astray in dory, Robert
Beavon, 29, married, native of Pubnico, Nova Scotia."

But his wife was in the hall. They heard a low cry, as though a little
animal had been hit. It was stifled at once, and a girl staggered out
of the hall. She had been hoping against hope for months, because some
who have gone adrift in dories have been miraculously picked up by
deep-sea sailing-ships. Now she had her certainty, and Harvey could see
the policeman on the sidewalk hailing a hack for her. "It's fifty cents
to the depot"--the driver began, bu