y here below jus' as if
they knowed all about it an' was sure we'd be surprised when we come
t' find out.

"'Tumm, ol' shipmate,' says Tim Mull, 'I got a lie on my soul.'

"''Tis a poor place for a burden like that.'

"'I'm fair wore out with the weight of it.'

"'Will you never be rid of it, man?'

"'Not an I keeps on bein' a man.'

"'So, Tim?'

"He put his hand on my shoulder. 'Is you a friend o' Mary's?' says he.

"''Tis a thing you must know without tellin'.'

"'She's a woman, Tumm.'

"'An' a wife.'

"'Woman an' wife,' says he, 'an' I loves her well, God knows!' The
tinkle o' the bell on the black slope o' Lookout caught his ear. He
listened--until the tender little sound ceased an' sleep fell again on
the hill. 'Tumm,' says he, then, all at once, 'there never _was_ no
baby! She's deceivin' Tinkle Tickle t' save her pride!'"

Tumm closed the book he had read page by page.

* * * * *

VII

THE LITTLE NIPPER O' HIDE-AN'-SEEK HARBOR

* * * * *

VII

THE LITTLE NIPPER O' HIDE-AN'-SEEK HARBOR

We nosed into Hide-an'-Seek Harbor jus' by chance. What come o' the
venture has sauce enough t' tell about in any company that ever sot
down in a forecastle of a windy night t' listen to a sentimental ol'
codger like me spin his yarns. In the early dusk o' that night, a
spurt o' foul weather begun t' swell out o' the nor'east--a fog as
thick as soup an' a wind minded for too brisk a lark at sea. Hard
Harry Hull 'lowed that we might jus' as well run into Hide-an'-Seek
for a night's lodgin' in the lee o' the hills, an' pick up what fish
we could trade the while, there bein' nothin' t' gain by hangin' off
shore an' splittin' the big seas all night long in the rough. 'Twas a
mean harbor, as it turned out--twelve score folk, ill-spoken of
abroad, but with what justice none of us knowed; we had never dropped
anchor there before. I was clerk o' the _Robin Red Breast_ in them
days--a fore-an'-aft schooner, tradin' trinkets an' grub for salt fish
between Mother Burke o' Cape John an' the Newf'un'land ports o' the
Straits o' Belle Isle; an' Hard Harry Hull, o' Yesterday Cove, was
the skipper o' the craft. Ay, I means Hard Harry hisself--he that
gained fame thereafter as a sealin' captain an' takes the _Queen o'
the North_ out o' St. John's t' the ice every spring o' the year t'
this present.

Well, the folk come aboard in a twi