't with warm things an' what he thought she'd need through the
winter. He come home with the sheep an' left the other things by the
house, but she never so much as looked out o' the window. She done it
for a penance. She must have wanted to see Edward by that time."

Mrs. Fosdick was fidgeting with eagerness to speak.

"Some thought the first cold snap would set her ashore, but she always
remained," concluded Mrs. Todd soberly.

"Talk about the men not having any curiosity!" exclaimed Mrs. Fosdick
scornfully. "Why, the waters round Shell-heap Island were white with
sails all that fall. 'Twas never called no great of a fishin'-ground
before. Many of 'em made excuse to go ashore to get water at the spring;
but at last she spoke to a bo't-load, very dignified and calm, and said
that she'd like it better if they'd make a practice of getting water to
Black Island or somewheres else and leave her alone, except in case of
accident or trouble. But there was one man who had always set everything
by her from a boy. He'd have married her if the other hadn't come about
an' spoilt his chance, and he used to get close to the island, before
light, on his way out fishin', and throw a little bundle way up the
green slope front o' the house. His sister told me she happened to see,
the first time, what a pretty choice he made o' useful things that a
woman would feel lost without. He stood off fishin', and could see them
in the grass all day, though sometimes she'd come out and walk right
by them. There was other bo'ts near, out after mackerel. But early next
morning his present was gone. He didn't presume too much, but once he
took her a nice firkin o' things he got up to Portland, and when spring
come he landed her a hen and chickens in a nice little coop. There was a
good many old friends had Joanna on their minds."

"Yes," said Mrs. Todd, losing her sad reserve in the growing sympathy
of these reminiscences. "How everybody used to notice whether there
was smoke out of the chimney! The Black Island folks could see her with
their spy-glass, and if they'd ever missed getting some sign o' life
they'd have sent notice to her folks. But after the first year or two
Joanna was more and more forgotten as an every-day charge. Folks lived
very simple in those days, you know," she continued, as Mrs. Fosdick's
knitting was taking much thought at the moment. "I expect there was
always plenty of driftwood thrown up, and a poor failin' patch of
spr