ldren making their way down to the beach
to see what was doing with the wreck. They stood aside to let us go by,
the boys pulling their caps and the girls dropping a curtsy, when they
knew that it was a poor drowned body passing; and as I saw the children I
thought I saw myself among them, and I was no more a man, but just come
out from Mr. Glennie's teaching in the old almshouse hall.

Thus we came to the Why Not? and there set him down. The inn had not
been let, as I learned afterwards, since Maskew died; and they had put
a fire in it last night for the first time, knowing that the brig would
be wrecked, and thinking that some might come off with their lives and
require tending. The door stood open, and they carried him into the
parlour, where the fire was still burning, and laid him down on the
trestle-table, covering his face and body with the sail. This done they
all stood round a little while, awkwardly enough, as not knowing what
to do; and then slipped away one by one, because grief is a thing that
only women know how to handle, and they wanted to be back on the beach
to get what might be from the wreck. Last of all went Master Ratsey,
saying, he saw that I would as lief be alone, and that he would come
back before dark.

So I was left alone with my dead friend, and with a host of bitterest
thoughts. The room had not been cleaned; there were spider-webs on the
beams, and the dust stood so thick on the window-panes as to shut out
half the light. The dust was on everything: on chairs and tables, save on
the trestle-table where he lay. 'Twas on this very trestle they had laid
out David's body; 'twas in this very room that this still form, who would
never more know either joy or sorrow, had bowed down and wept over his
son. The room was just as we had left it an April evening years ago, and
on the dresser lay the great backgammon board, so dusty that one could
not read the lettering on it; 'Life is like a game of hazard; the skilful
player will make something of the worst of throws'; but what unskillful
players we had been, how bad our throws, how little we had made of them!

'Twas with thoughts like this that I was busy while the short afternoon
was spent, and the story went up and down the village, how that Elzevir
Block and John Trenchard, who left so long ago, were come back to
Moonfleet, and that the old lander was drowned saving the young man's
life. The dusk was creeping up as I turned back the sail from off