manage."

"Few things are beyond thy say-so." Then she lifted her work-bag and
left the room.

During this conversation Conall Ragnor had been slowly making his way
home, after leaving his warehouse when the work of the day was done.
Generally he liked his walk through the town to his homestead, which
was just outside the town limits. It was often pleasant and
flattering. The women came to their doors to watch him, or to speak to
him, and their admiration and friendliness was welcome. For many years
he had been used to it, but he had not in the least outgrown the
thrill of satisfaction it gave him. And often he wondered if his wife
noticed the good opinion that the ladies of Kirkwall had for her
husband.

"Of course she does," he commented, "but a great wonder it would be if
my Rahal should speak of it. In that hour she would be out of the
commodity of pride, or she would have forgotten herself entirely."

This day he had received many good-natured greetings--Jenny Torrie had
told him that the _Sea Gull_ was just coming into harbour, and so
heavy with cargo that the sea was worrying at her gunwale; then Mary
Inkster--from the other side of the street--added, "Both hands--seen
and unseen--are full, Captain, I'll warrant that!"

"Don't thee warrant beyond thy knowledge, Mary," answered Ragnor, with
a laugh. "The _Sea Gull_ may have hands; she has no tongue."

"All that touches the _Sea Gull_ is a thing by itself," cried pretty
Astar Graff, whose husband was one of the _Sea Gull's_ crew.

"So, then, Astar, she takes her own at point and edge. That is her
way, and her right," replied Ragnor.

Thus up the narrow street, from one side or the other, Conall Ragnor
was greeted. Good wishes and good advice, with now and then a careful
innuendo, were freely given and cheerfully taken; and certainly the
recipient of so much friendly notice was well pleased with its freedom
and good will. He came into his own house with the smiling amiability
of a man who has had all the wrinkles of the day's business smoothed
and soothed out of him.

Looking round the room, he was rather glad his wife was not there. She
was generally cool about such attentions, and secretly offended by
their familiarity. For she was not only a reader and a thinker, she
was also a great observer, and she had seen and considered the slow
but sure coming of that spirit of progress, which would break up their
isolation and, with it, the social privileges of