her int' it. She warn't never strong, an' work an'
grievin' made her an easy mark fur sufferin' an' so she let me take care
of her! But always it has laid heavy on my mind that I hadn't acted jest
fair t' William Henry. An' sometimes, when I've been settin' out on the
balcony, freshenin' up, I've planned it all out how I'd see him a
comin' over the dunes some day,--comin' out o' the sea what swallowed
him, with an awful look of anger on his smilin' face, 'cause I'd got his
Susy on false pretences, as ye might say. It's got kind o' wearin' on me
o' late, but Lord! when I saw William Henry t'-night, he was more
shinin' an' smilin' than ever. An' when he thanked me like what he did,
I nigh busted with pleasure. An' then as you told me 'bout Susan Jane's
good night, I jest sent up a prayer out there on the balcony, a prayer
of gratefulness fur all my blessin's.

"Dreams is queer stuff, Janet. 'T ain't all as should be counted; but
then, ye don't count all the folks an' happenin's that pass ye in yer
wakin' hours. But when a dream, or a person, or an idee comes along, as
means a comfort or a strengthener, I take it that it is a sort o' duty
t' clutch it, an' make it real. When ye ain't got nothin' better, dreams
is powerful upliftin' at times. Gum!" David drew his shoulders up and
plunged his hands in his pockets, as if about to draw comfort from their
depths.

"Gum! Janet. 'T ain't often I get duty and pleasure mixed, but ye stop
here, an' after I take another look at the lamp, I'm goin' t' run down
an' say good night t' Susan Jane. I know how she's lyin' awake, thinkin'
an' thinkin' of the past. Dreams don't seem t' come much t' Susan
Jane."

David paid his visit to the Light, then descended the stairs, while
Janet took up the book of poems and turned the pages idly. David's dream
and all that had happened seemed to still her. How long she sat by the
dim lamplight she took no thought to find out. The words of poem after
poem passed under her eyes unheedingly. Once she went into the Light,
saw that all was well, and came back to the book. Presently David
emerged from the stairway. Janet was facing him, and the expression of
his eyes brought her to her feet, and to his side.

"Davy, what is it?" she demanded.

"He has come!"

"Who?"

"William Henry! He's taken her!"

"No, no! Davy, it is not so, she is only asleep." David shook his head
and his eyes had a dumb agony in them.

"'T ain't so, Janet! An' she's smilin