em what a
blubber-head ye air."

Janet laughed, and stretched her arms out until she clasped David's
rough hands. "I'll go up an' take a look!" said the man; "stop till I
come down, Janet, I've got somethin' t' tell ye."

"I came up to tell you," the girl called after him, "that Susan Jane
sent good night to you."

"She did that?" Davy paused upon the step and his face shone in the dull
light. Janet nodded. Then Davy went to inspect his lamp.

"But to us He gives the keepin'
Of the lights along the shore!"

Janet smiled as the cheerful words floated back to her. Presently David
returned.

"Everythin' is as it should be," he chuckled; "clear night, but changin'
breeze, an' the Light doin' its proper duty! Janet, while I slept, I had
the durndest dream, I can't get rid of it. I read once how the surest
way to get rid of an idee was t' dump it on another."

"Dump away, Davy."

"It made me feel kinder like I did long ago; an' then Susan Jane sendin'
that good night up, sort o' fitted in. Janet, I've been dreamin' about
William Henry Jones."

Janet nodded. William Henry seemed recently to have assumed shape and
form to her. He had been but a name in the past.

"I saw him a comin' up the stairs jest as plain as day, like he use t'
come when he came off, an' ran up t' me, if I happened t' be haulin' ile
up t' the balcony, or cleanin' the lamp, or what not. His face was
shinin' same as it use t'. By gum! I never see such a face as William
Henry had! It always seemed to be lit from inside. 'I've come fur
Susy,' he said. He was the only one as ever called her that, an' I ain't
heerd it since he went down int' the sea that mornin' he was
bluefishin'. 'I've come fur Susy, an' I want t' thank ye fur carin' fur
her like what ye have." Them was his words, as true as gospil. An' they
was turrible comfortin'. Fur, Janet, I ain't told it t' another soul,
not even t' Billy, but I always loved Susan Jane--fur myself. When
William Henry won her, I wasn't ever goin' t' let on, but when he got
drownded an' Susan had t' hustle t' keep life in her body, I jest out
an' begged t' take care of her--fur William Henry! I told that lie,
Janet, because I darsn't tell her I wanted her fur myself. I didn't
never care whether she loved me or not, after I knowed she loved William
Henry, anyway; but when he went, I wanted t' take care of her an' keep
her from the hardest knocks, an' I wanted it fur jest myself! After a
while I talked