ant fisherman, a-pawin' at the likes o' her?"

The skipper felt shame at sight of Flora's tears and anger at his
grandmother's humiliating words. There was a bitter edge to her voice
that was new to him, and her lean old fingers pinched into his flesh
like fingers of iron.

"Sure, I bes mad," he said. "'Twas only a trick, anyhow--an' I did no
harm. There bain't naught for ye to be cryin' about."

He strode from the room, with old Mother Nolan still clinging to his
elbow. When they reached the kitchen she loosed her clutch on his elbow.

"Denny Nolan, ye bes a fool!" she exclaimed. "Saints presarve us, Denny,
what would ye be doin' wid a sprite the like o' her, wid a heart all
full entirely o' gold an' diamonds an' queens an' kings?--an' girls in
this very harbor, ye great ninney, wid red woman hearts in their
breasts!"

The skipper stared at her for a second, muttered an oath, crushed his
fur cap on his head and went out into the gray twilight, slamming the
door behind him. He blundered his way up the path at the back of the
harbor and held on, blindly, to the westward.

"Sure, now she'll be frighted o' me all the time," he muttered. "I was a
fool to fright her so! Maybe now she'll never be marryin' wid me at all.
The divil was into me! Aye, the divil himself!"

He came presently to a group of his men working in a belt of timber, and
this encounter brought him back to affairs of the common day. Grabbing
an axe from young Peter Leary, he set to with a fury of effort and
unheeding skill that brought the slim spruces flapping to earth. Men had
to jump to save themselves from being crushed. The white chips flew in
the gray twilight; and Bill Brennen wondered what imp's claw had marked
the skipper under the eyes and crisscrossed his temper.

The weather continued cold, cloudless and windless throughout the next
three days. During that time the skipper made no effort to see Flora,
but was abroad from sun-up to sun-down with the men, cutting out timber
for the little church as if his life depended on it. No sight or sound
of Dick Lynch came back to the harbor. This gave Bill Brennen an
argument in favor of loyalty to the skipper. He preached it to the men,
and it made a great impression on their simple though dangerous natures.

"There was Foxey Jack Quinn," he said. "Jack hated the skipper like we
hates sea-water in our rum. Didn't he try to kill him--t'row him over
the cliff--an' didn't the skipper put the comather