nce. Her life
was shaping itself independently of me. It is pretty tough, Jennie, to
see one's ewe lamb slipping away. She loves me dearly, I know it, but she
is now flowering into something that will never be entirely mine again,
and the realization of it is cutting my heart.

After a moment she was restless again, and we went out on the porch. We
could hear Susie Sweetapple messing about in her kitchen, whose destinies
she again cheerfully controls, and presently some men came down the road,
carrying a bed.

"'Un says he've got ter have his bed at Frenchy's," one of them explained
to me.

"'Un's scared to give the diphtherias ter Sammy's young 'uns."

They started again, wiping their brows, for the late September day was
growing warm, and soon after we saw a small boat entering the cove and
Helen, who seems to know everything about this place, declared that it
was not one of our boats, as she calls the fleet at Sweetapple Cove. It
reached the dock and a man jumped out while the sails were still
slatting.

Susie had stuck her head out of the window.

"'Un's parson comin'," she announced.

Mr. Barnett hastened towards us as fast as his little legs would carry
him. He passed Frenchy's house, not knowing that the doctor was there,
and stopped in surprise when he saw us.

"I thought I was too late!" he exclaimed. "We saw the _Snowbird_ flying,
miles away, and I thought I should never see you again."

"The doctor is at Frenchy's!" cried Helen. "He is dreadfully ill. Please
go and see what you can do for him."

"I'll go at once," he replied. "We intercepted the mail-boat and I have a
letter for you, Mr. Jelliffe, and one for the doctor. I hear he saved
that man's life, over to the Bay. Been up with him day and night. You
can't understand what it means to us to have a man like him here, who
permeates us all with his own brave confidence. The blessing of it! It
was a terrible storm that he went through when he walked over to the Bay.
It is an awful country, and his steps were surely guided over pitfalls
and rocks."

The little man is quite admirable in the sturdiness of his faith, in the
power of his belief, that is the one supreme ideal always before him, and
I shook hands with him.

"But I fear he is very ill now. A boy just told me they had to carry him
from his boat, when he returned this morning."

"I'll go with you now to Frenchy's," said Helen.

"Are you not afraid?" asked the little parson.

"Are yo