n which the
rickety fish-houses and flakes were insecurely perched on slender stilts.
A couple of blunt-bowed little schooners were at anchor, and some men in
boats were catching squid for bait.

"This is picturesque enough," said Miss Jelliffe, "but I miss the beauty
of all that we have just left."

"I'm sure you do," I answered, "yet this view also is worth looking at.
It is not like the peaceful slumbering villages of more prosperous lands.
It represents the struggle and striving for things that will never be
attained, the hopes of those yet young and the reminiscences of others
becoming too old to keep up the fight. In many ways it is better than a
big town, for here the people all know one another, and no one can starve
as long as his neighbor has a handful of flour. Sweetapple Cove is a fine
place, for sometimes the winds of heaven sweep away its smells of fish
and fill deep the chests of sturdy men who fight the sea and gale instead
of fighting one another, as men so often must, in the big cities, to
retain their hold upon the loaves and fishes."

"I suppose we all look for things that can never be attained," she
repeated after me, with a look of very charming, frank friendliness.

I sometimes wonder whether I wear my heart upon my sleeve for those
pleasant daws to peck at. At any rate they do it gently, and both Mrs.
Barnett and this young lady are birds of a very fine feather.

So we entered the boat and were rowed over to the landing-place, but a
few hundred yards away, where the Frenchman's little fellow was waiting,
patiently, with one arm around a woolly pup with which he seemed to be
great friends. As soon as we were ashore he left the dog and came up to
Miss Jelliffe.

"_Bonjour_," he said. "_Je t'aime bien_."

Yves blushed and smiled, apologetically, at this very sudden declaration
of love, but the girl stooped, laughing, and kissed the little chap,
passing her hand over his yellow locks.

One is ever seeing it, this love of women for the little ones and the
weaklings. We men are proud of our strength, but may it not be on account
of some weaknesses hidden to ourselves that women so often love fellows
who hardly seem to deserve them. It is a thing to wonder at. Dora, I am
very sure, knows all the feeble traits I may possess. Will the day ever
come when these may prompt her to think it would increase her happiness
to take me under her protecting care?

"Won't you come over to the house?" Miss Je