if, for the doing of what was to be
done, the black pall was alone appropriate.

"Why, any one would think,"--Janet stood by the window and her teeth
chattered as she spoke,--"any one would think I was that white girl at
Bluff Head instead of Cap'n Billy's girl. I afraid of a storm! I, housed
and safe at the Light! I, who, in many such a gale, trotted after Cap'n
Billy just for pure fun. It's time I went on and got the dune tonic for
my foolish nerves. _Me_ with nerves!"

Then she ran to the door and opened it slowly, pushing against it to
stay the wind.

"I thought!" she moaned, "I thought I heard a call!" The memory of the
night that poor Maud Grace went down beyond the Point added keenness to
her fancy. "It sounded like that call. Ah! as long as I live I shall
remember it. I do believe it was Maud. I always shall, no matter what
they say."

The howling of the wind drowned the girl's words, but her strained face
pressed against the opening and her senses were alert. "I hear it!" she
panted, "I hear that call! Suppose, oh! suppose that it is my Cap'n
Billy calling? If he were on the patrol and in danger, he would call to
me. He would know I could not hear, but he would call, just for
comfort!"

Again the burdened wind shrieked outside. The face at the door grew
ghastly and the eyes terror-filled.

"There are more ways of hearing than one!" she muttered. "Cap'n Daddy, I
am coming!"

Who was there to stay her with word of caution? Who was there to control
her as she made ready to answer the heart-call of her beloved Billy?

Now that doubt had fled, a calmness possessed her. She was indifferent.
First she wrote a note to Davy and placed it, open and conspicuous,
beside his plate; she had laid the breakfast table half an hour before.

"I've gone to Billy. Took my ice boat." That was all, but Davy would
understand. Then she wrapped herself warmly, covering all with an oiler
and pulling a sou'wester well down over her ears. Finally she
extinguished the lamp, let herself out of the door, and ran, in the face
of the gale, to the dock. There she paused.

"I'd have to tack miles off my course," she muttered, "I had forgotten
the direction of the wind." There was nothing to do but take to the ice,
and walk and run as she could! It was an awful undertaking, but the girl
did not pause. The call for help came only when she hesitated; while
she acted her nerves were calm. So, with head bent forward and low,
Janet set ou