of Maine, where many green islands and salt inlets fringe
the deep-cut shore line; where balsam firs and bayberry bushes send
their fragrance far seaward, and song-sparrows sing all day, and the
tide runs plashing in and out among the weedy ledges; where cowbells
tinkle on the hills and herons stand in the shady coves,--on the
lonely coast of Maine stood a small gray house facing the morning
light. All the weather-beaten houses of that region face the sea
apprehensively, like the women who live in them.

This home of four people was as bleached and gray with wind and rain
as one of the pasture rocks close by. There were some cinnamon rose
bushes under the window at one side of the door, and a stunted lilac
at the other side. It was so early in the cool morning that nobody was
astir but some shy birds, that had come in the stillness of dawn to
pick and flutter in the short grass.

They flew away together as some one softly opened the unlocked door
and stepped out. This was a bent old man, who shaded his eyes with his
hand, and looked at the west and the east and overhead, and then took
a few lame and feeble steps farther out to see a wooden vane on the
barn. Then he sat down on the doorstep, clasped his hands together
between his knees, and looked steadily out to sea, scanning the
horizon where some schooners had held on their course all night, with
a light westerly breeze. He seemed to be satisfied at sight of the
weather, as if he had been anxious, as he lay unassured in his north
bedroom, vexed with the sleeplessness of age and excited by thoughts
of the coming day. The old seaman dozed as he sat on the doorstep,
while dawn came up and the world grew bright; and the little birds
returned, fearfully at first, to finish their breakfast, and at last
made bold to hop close to his feet.

After a time some one else came and stood in the open door behind him.

"Why, father! seems to me you've got an early start; 't ain't but four
o'clock. I thought I was foolish to get up so soon, but 't wa'n't so I
could sleep."

"No, darter." The old man smiled as he turned to look at her, wide
awake on the instant. "'T ain't so soon as I git out some o' these
'arly mornin's. The birds wake me up singin', and it's plenty light,
you know. I wanted to make sure 'Lisha would have a fair day to go."

"I expect he'd have to go if the weather wa'n't good," said the woman.

"Yes, yes, but 'tis useful to have fair weather, an' a good sign s