hough it had been cut out of bronze. "We won't go back again."

"Guess 'twould be 'baout's well to git daown to the wharf," said Disko.
"It's close in along with them Dagoes, an' the fresh air will fresh
Mrs. Cheyne up."

Harvey announced that he never felt better in his life; but it was not
till he saw the _We're Here_, fresh from the lumper's hands, at
Wouverman's wharf, that he lost his all-overish feelings in a queer
mixture of pride and sorrowfulness. Other people--summer boarders and
such-like--played about in cat-boats or looked at the sea from
pier-heads; but he understood things from the inside--more things than
he could begin to think about. None the less, he could have sat down
and howled because the little schooner was going off. Mrs. Cheyne
simply cried and cried every step of the way and said most
extraordinary things to Mrs. Troop, who "babied" her till Dan, who had
not been "babied" since he was six, whistled aloud.

And so the old crowd--Harvey felt like the most ancient of mariners
dropped into the old schooner among the battered dories, while Harvey
slipped the stern-fast from the pier-head, and they slid her along the
wharf-side with their hands. Every one wanted to say so much that no
one said anything in particular. Harvey bade Dan take care of Uncle
Salters's sea-boots and Penn's dory-anchor, and Long Jack entreated
Harvey to remember his lessons in seamanship; but the jokes fell flat
in the presence of the two women, and it is hard to be funny with green
harbour-water widening between good friends.

"Up jib and fores'l!" shouted Disko, getting to the wheel, as the wind
took her. "See you later, Harve. Dunno but I come near thinkin' a heap
o' you an' your folks."

Then she glided beyond ear-shot, and they sat down to watch her up the
harbour, And still Mrs. Cheyne wept.

"Pshaw, my dear," said Mrs. Troop: "we're both women, I guess. Like's
not it'll ease your heart to hev your cry aout. God He knows it never
done me a mite o' good, but then He knows I've had something to cry
fer!"

Now it was a few years later, and upon the other edge of America, that
a young man came through the clammy sea fog up a windy street which is
flanked with most expensive houses built of wood to imitate stone. To
him, as he was standing by a hammered iron gate, entered on
horseback--and the horse would have been cheap at a thousand
dollars--another young man. And this is what they said:

"Hello, Dan!"

"Hel