-all hemmed
in and froze up. You hev to squeeze past all the nations of the earth to
get to her--half choked afore you fairly get there. Yes, I sailed there
once, up through Skager Rack and Cattegat along up the Baltic and the
Gulf of Finland, just edging along--" He held out his hand again for the
locket, and studied it carefully. "Russian, is she? I might 'a' known
it," he said nodding. "She's the sort--same look--eager and kind o'
waitin'." He looked up. "How'd you come to know her? You been there?"

"In Russia? No. She's not there now. She's in New York. She lives
there."

"Is that so? Poor thing!" Uncle William looked at the pictured face with
compassion.

The artist smiled. "Oh, it's not so bad. She's happy."

"Yes, she's happy. I can see that easy enough. She's the kind that's
goin' to be happy." He looked again at the clear, fearless eyes. "You
couldn't put her anywheres she wouldn't sing--"

"She _does_ sing. How did you know?"

Uncle William's eyes twinkled to the boyish face. "Well, I didn't _know_
it--not jest that way. I didn't know as she sung songs on a platform,
dressed up, like I've heard 'em. What I meant was, her heart kind o'
bubbles and sings--"

"Yes"--the artist leaned forward--"that is Sergia. It's the way she
is. She doesn't sing in public. But her voice"--his eyes grew dark--"it
makes you want to laugh and cry. It's like the wind and the sun
shining--" He broke off, listening.

The old man's eyes dwelt on him kindly. "She's with her folks, is she?"

He roused himself. "She hasn't any. They all died over there--her father
and brother in the riots, her mother after that. She has no one. She
teaches music--piano and violin--night and day. Sometimes she gives a
recital with her pupils--and she has me." He laughed a little bitterly.
"It isn't an exciting life."

"I dunno's I'd say jest that," said Uncle William, slowly. "It ain't
exactly the things that happen--" He broke off, looking at something
far away. "Why, I've had things happen to me--shipwreck, you know--winds
a-blowin' and sousin' the deck--and a-gettin' out the boats and yellin'
and shoutin'--Seems 's if it ought to 'a' been excitin'. But Lord!
'twa'n't nuthin' to what I've felt other times--times when it was all
still-like on the island here--and big--so's 't you kind o' hear suthin'
comin' to ye over the water. Why, some days it's been so's I'd feel's if
I'd _bust_ if I didn't do suthin'--suthin' to let off steam."

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