No."

"Well, a good many folks ain't, far's that goes. Where _I_ lived was
way off in the woods, anyhow. My family was Indian, way back. Not all
Indian, but some, you know; the rest was white, though Pa he used to
cal'late there might be a little Portygee strung along in somewhere.
It's kind of funny to be all mixed up that way, ain't it? Hello, there's
Cap'n Jethro! See him? See him?"

Bangs saw the figure of a man emerge from the door of the white house
by the light and stand upon the platform. There was nothing particularly
exciting about the man's appearance, but Primmie seemed to be excited.

"See him, Mr. Bangs?" she repeated.

"Yes, I see him. Who is he?"

"Don't you know? No, course you don't; why should you? He's Cap'n Jethro
Hallett, keeps the lighthouse, he does--him and Lulie and Zach."

"Oh, he is the light keeper, is he? What has he got his head tied up
for?"

"Hey? HEAD tied up?"

"Why, yes. Isn't there something gray--a--ah--scarf or something tied
about his head? I think I see it flutter in the wind."

"That? That ain't no scarf, them's his whiskers. He wears 'em long and
they blow consider'ble. Say, what do you think?" Primmie leaned forward
and whispered mysteriously. "He sees his wife."

Galusha turned to look at her. Her expression was a combination of awe
and excitement.

"I--I beg your pardon," he stammered, "but really I--What did you say he
did?"

"I said he sees his wife. Anyhow, he thinks he does. She comes to him
nights and stands alongside of his bed and they talk. Ain't that awful?"

Galusha took off his spectacles and rubbed them.

"Ain't it awful, Mr. Bangs?" repeated Primmie.

Galusha's faint smile twitched the corners of his lips. "We-ll," he
observed, "I--really I can't say. I never met the lady."

"What difference does that make? If a dead woman come and stood
alongside of MY bed 'twouldn't make no difference to me whether I'd MET
her or not. Meetin' of her then would be enough. My Lord of Isrul!"

"Oh--oh, I beg your pardon. Do I understand you to say that
this--ah--gentleman's wife is dead?"

"Um-hm. Been dead seven year, so Miss Martha says. That's what I mean
when I say it's awful. Wouldn't you think 'twas awful if a woman that
had been dead seven year come and stood alongside of you?"

Galusha smiled again. "Yes," he admitted, "I am inclined to think
I--ah--should."

"You bet you would! So'd anybody but Jethro Hallet. He likes it. Yes,
sir! And he goes t