f course they would
be delighted to have the price of cod raised; it is the dream of their
lives.

But most of them have accepted us as natural, if freaky, phenomena with
which they were previously unacquainted, and which have thus far shown no
objectionable features. They have become ever so friendly, yet never
intrusive, and I like them ever so much.

That poor fellow Dick was shipped back to his miserable little island,
two weeks ago, happy in the possession of a useful right arm. It was
quite touching to hear him speak of the doctor. And speaking about Dick
reminds me of the man's wife, with those peculiar ideas of hers. You
remember about them, don't you? Would you believe, Auntie dear, that all
the other women about here are just as bad? They seem to be matchmakers
of the most virulent sort. They boldly ask me if I am going to marry the
doctor, and when, the poor silly things, and if I deny the impeachment
they bring forth little smiles of unbelief.

When I showed my last stocking to Granny Lasher she announced that it was
much too small.

"Didn't yer ever look at the big feet o' he?" she asked.

"The big feet of who?" I asked, in an elegant form of speech.

"Th' doctor," she answered.

"But these are for my father," I objected.

"Sure, I ought ter have knowed that," she replied. "Ye'll be practicin'
on he first, and when yer does real good work ye'll be knittin' 'em fer
th' doctor."

"Mrs. Sammy knits stockings for him," I said, severely.

"Well, when he's yer man ye'll not be lettin' other wimmin folks do his
knittin' fer he," persisted the ancient dame.

I simply refuse to argue any more with them. They have that idea in their
hard old heads and it cannot be dislodged. If you and I had been
Newfoundlanders, Auntie dear, we would have married early and been
expected to knit stockings, in the intervals of work on the flakes, for
the rest of our natural lives. The maidens of this island entertain
visions of coming years devoted to the rearing of perfect herds of
children, to assorted household work, to drying fish and knitting
stockings for their lords and masters, until the end.

I even have a suspicion of Mrs. Barnett, sweet good soul though she be. I
walked up to her house yesterday, having met Dr. Grant on the way. He
left me at her door, and when I came in she looked at me, wistfully, and
I intercepted the tiniest little sigh from her.

"What is the trouble?" I asked her.

"Oh! Nothing in th