d not have you, Moses?"

"Mother always 'lowed," he answered, "that 'twas wise t' distract
the mind in case o' disappointment. I 'low I'll overhaul the
splittin'-table when I gets t' home. She needs a scrubbin'."

We came to the rise in the road.

"Mother," said he, "'lowed that if ever I come in from Whisper Cove t'
build at Twist Tickle, she'd have the house sot here. I 'low I'll put
one up, some time, t' have it ready ag'in' the time I'm married.
Mother 'lowed 'twas a good thing t' be forehanded with they little
things." The note of melancholy, always present, but often subdued, so
that it sounded below the music of his voice, was now obtrusive: a
monotonous repetition, compelling attention, insistent, an unvarying
note of sadness. "Ay," he continued; "mother 'lowed 'twas a good thing
t' have a view. She'd have it sot here, says she, facin' the west, if
ever I got enough ahead with the fish t' think o' buildin'. She'd have
it sot, says she, so she could watch the sunset an' keep a eye on the
tickle t' see my punt come in. She was wonderful on sunsets, was
mother; an' she was sort o' sot, somehow, on keepin' watch on me.
Wonderful good o' she, wasn't it, Dannie, t' want t' keep watch--on
me?" Again the note of melancholy, throbbing above the drawl--rising,
indeed, into a wail. "So," said he, "I 'low I'll just put up a house,
by-an'-by, for the wife I'm t' have; an' I'll have it here, I'm
thinkin', for mother 'lowed my wife would want it with a view o' the
tickle, t' watch my punt come in. Think she will, Dannie? Think she
will?"

The mail-boat blew in the narrows.

"I must haste!" said I.

"An you must haste, Dannie," said he, "run on. I'll not make haste,
for I'm 'lowin' that a little spell o' thinkin' about mother will sort
o' do me good."

* * * * *

I ran on, fast as my legs would carry me (which was not very fast).
'Twas the departing whistle; the mail-boat had come and gone--I saw
her lights, shining warmly in the dark, grow small as she fared out
through the narrows to the sea. It began to rain in great drops;
overhead 'twas all black--roundabout a world of looming shadows,
having lights, like stars, where the cottages were set on the hills. I
made haste on my way; and as I pattered on over the uneven road to the
neck of land by the Lost Soul, I blamed myself right heartily,
regretting my uncle's disappointment, in that the expected guest would
already have a