half."

"'Twill save us peril."

"I've no great objection t' peril in her service. I'll not open the
telegram; I'll not intrude on the poor maid's secrets. Is you comin'
along?"

Sandy Rowl put a hand on Tommy Lark's shoulder.

"What moves you," said he impatiently, "to a mad venture like this,
with the day as far sped as it is?"

"I'm impelled."

"What drives you?"

"The maid's sick."

"Huh!" Sandy scoffed. "A lusty maid like that! She's not sick. As for
me, I'm easy about her health. She's as hearty at this minute as ever
she was in her life. An' if she isn't, we've no means o' bein' sure
that she isn't. 'Tis mere guess-work. We've no certainty of her need.
T' be drove out on the ice o' Scalawag Run by the guess-work o' fear
an' fancy is a folly. 'Tis not demanded. We've every excuse for lyin'
the night at Point-o'-Bay Cove."

"I'm not seekin' excuse."

"You've no need to seek it. It thrusts itself upon you."

"Maybe. Yet I'll have none of it. 'Tis a craven thing t' deal with."

"'Tis mere caution."

"Well, well! I'll have no barter with caution in a case like this. I
crave service. Is you comin' along?"

Sandy Rowl laughed his disbelief.

"Service!" said he. "You heed the clamor o' your curiosity. That's all
that stirs you."

"No," Tommy Lark replied. "My curiosity asks me no questions now.
Comin' up the hill, with this here telegram in my pocket, I made up my
mind. 'Tis not I that the maid loves. It couldn't be. I'm not worthy.
Still an' all, I'll carry her message t' Scalawag Harbor. An' if I'm
overcome I'll not care very much--save that 'twill sadden me t' know
at the last that I've failed in her service. I've no need o' you,
Sandy. You've no call to come. You may do what you likes an' be no
less a man. As you will, then. Is you comin'?"

Sandy reflected.

"Tommy," said he then, reluctantly, "will you listen t' what I should
tell you?"

"I'll listen."

"An' will you believe me an' heed me?"

"I'll believe you, Sandy."

"You've fathomed the truth o' this matter. Tis not you that the maid
loves. 'Tis I. She've not told me. She've said not a word that you're
not aware of. Yet I knows that she'll choose me. I've loved more maids
than one. I'm acquainted with their ways. An' more maids than one have
loved me. I've mastered the signs o' love. I've studied them; I reads
them like print. It pleases me t' see them an' read them. At first,
Tommy, a maid will not tell. She'll not tell even her