uilded snugly in a lee from the easterly gales. For a moment,
in the pause, the fool of Twist Tickle let his hand rest upon my
shoulder, which never before had happened in all our intercourse, but
withdrew it, as though awakened from this pitying affection to a
sense of his presumption, which never, God witness! did I teach him.

"Tis a grand sunset," said he. "Look, Dannie; 'tis a sunset with
gates!"

'Twas so: great black gates of cloud, edged with glowing color, with
the quiet and light of harbor beyond.

"With gates!" he whispered.

'Twas the fancy of a fool; nay, 'twas the fancy (as chanced his need)
of some strange wisdom.

"Dannie," said he, "they's times when I sees mother's face peerin' at
me from them clouds--her own dear face as 'twas afore she died. She's
keepin' watch from the windows o' heaven--keepin' watch, jus' like she
used t' do. You'll never tell, will you, lad? You'll not shame me,
will you? They'd laugh, out there on the grounds, an you told: for
they're so wonderful fond o' laughter--out there on the grounds. I
lives, somehow," said he, brushing his hand in bewilderment over his
eyes, "in the midst o' laughter, but have no call t' laugh. I wonder
why, for mother didn't laugh; an' I wonder why _they_ laughs so much.
They'd laugh, Dannie, an you told un she was keepin' watch; an' so you
will not: for I've growed, somehow, wonderful tired o' laughter--since
mother died. But 'tis so: I knows 'tis so! I sees her face in the
light o' sunsets--just as it used t' be. She comes t' the gate, when
the black clouds arise t' hide the mystery we've no call t' know, an'
the dear Lord cares not what we fathom; an' I sees her, Dannie, from
my punt, still keepin' watch upon me, just like she done from the
window, afore she went an' died. She was a wonderful hand, somehow, at
keepin' watch at the window. She'd watch me go an' watch me come. I've
often wondered why she done it. I've wondered, Dannie, an' wondered,
but never could tell why. Why, Dannie, I've knowed her t' run out, by
times, an' say: 'Come, dear, 'tis time you was within. Hush, lad,
never care. They'll never hurt you, dear,' says she, 'when you're
within--with me.' An', Dannie, t' this day I'm feared t' look into the
sky, at evening, when I've been bad, lest I sees her saddened by my
deeds; but when I'm good, I'm glad t' see her face, for she smiles,
lad, just like she used t' do from the window--afore they buried
her."

"Ay," said I; "I've no