om's eye.

"Wal, the cap'n he was drefful sort o' oneasy arter she was gone. He had
a long talk in the cabin with Mr. More, the fust officer; and there was
a sort o' stir aboard as if somethin' was a goin' to happen, we couldn't
jest say what it was.

"Sometimes it seems as if, when things is goin' to happen, a body kind
o' feels 'em comin' in the air. We boys was all that way: o' course we
didn't know nothin' 'bout what the woman wanted, or what she come for,
or whether she was comin' agin; 'n fact, we didn't know nothin' about
it, and yet we sort o' expected suthin' to come o' it; and suthin' did
come, sure enough.

"Come on night, jest at dusk, we see a boat comin' alongside; and there,
sure enough, was the lady in it.

"'There, she's comin' agin,' says I to Tom Tooth-acre.

"'Yes, and brought her baggage with her,' says Tom; and he p'inted down
to a long, narrow pine box that was in the boat beside her.

"Jest then the cap'n called on Mr. More, and he called on Tom Toothacre;
and among 'em they lowered a tackle, and swung the box aboard, and put
it in the state-room right alongside the cap'n's cabin.

"The lady she thanked the cap'n and Mr. More, and her voice was jest as
sweet as any nightingale; and she went into the state-room arter they
put the body in, and was gone ever so long with it. The cap'n and Mr.
More they stood a whisperin' to each other, and every once in a while
they'd kind o' nod at the door where the lady was.

"Wal, by and by she come out with her han'ker-chief to her eyes, and
come on deck, and begun talk-in' to the cap'n and Mr. More, and a
wishin' all kinds o' blessin's on their heads.

"Wal, Tom Toothacre didn't say a word, good or bad; but he jest kep'
a lookin' at her, watchin' her as a cat watches a mouse. Finally we up
sail, and started with a fair breeze. The lady she kep' a walkin' up and
down, up and down, and every time she turned on her heel, I saw Tom a
lookin' arter her and kind o' noddin' to himself.

"'What makes you look arter her so, Tom?' says I to him.

"''Cause I think she _wants_ lookin' arter,' says Tom. 'What's more,'
says he, 'if the cap'n don't look sharp arter her the devil 'll have
us all afore mornin.' I tell ye, Sam, there's mischief under them
petticuts.'

"'Why, what do ye think?' says I.

"'Think! I don't think, I knows! That 'are's no gal, nor widder neither,
if my name's Tom Tooth-acre! Look at her walk; look at the way she turns
on her heel I I'