ch young
women don't box their husbands' ears--aha!--at least, mine won't."

"Notely Garrison," said Vesty, with Basinly and womanly indignation, "I
never fished for you in all my life--never!"

"Instinctive, darling; not your fault. Unconscious cerebration; do you
understand?"

She did, a little, and she grievously disapproved of him.

"Kiss me, dearest," he pleaded. "You kissed me once, when I first came
home."

"All the m-more reason why you ought not to ask me now. I w-wish you'd
get your m-mind on something besides me."

Notely walked away, pulled up the anchor, and set sail again. Vesty
composed herself at the end of the boat.

"Sweet-tempered child!" said he, regarding her from the helm.

She dipped her hand in the water and smoothed her stray locks; they
curled up again. She was distressed, and Notely's mirthful eyes gave
her no rest.

"My mind is still on you, Vesty--and will be for ever and aye,
sweetheart."

With that he turned kindly and looked away, and Vesty bound up her hair.

Presently: "The tapestries are beautiful to-day, Note," she said.

They were sailing through the shallows near Reef Island, and they
looked down through the green water. Gold, bronze and yellow, and dark
velvet green, the tracings of broad sea-leaf and trailing vine on that
floor.

"There isn't another house in any land tapestried like ours, Vesty.
Say, wouldn't that be a charming place, after all, to rest, when----"

"You're getting aground, Note!"

"Thank you! How fortunate that you are aboard! I know how to steer a
boat a little, of course, but nothing like----"

Vesty laughed, dazzled by this sarcasm. "But you didn't think of the
bread or the salt or the pork for the chowder," said she triumphantly.

"Ah, I see you have them. You always think of those things. You were
always my little woman, you know. You are my home."

As the boat touched the ledge she sprang out before him. By the time
he had fastened his boat and clambered over the ledges with the kettle
which he had brought from the crane in his shanty, Vesty had a fire of
drift-wood burning.

She prepared the chowder, while he whittled out some forks of wood and
gathered firm pieces of kelp for dishes.

They ate, with only the voice of the gulls, screaming, flying in
disturbed, beautiful flight over the wide, lone island.

"Now for the gulls' eggs," said Vesty, rising, no dishes to put away.

"What a carnivorous little wild-cat it is