ng me about that boat of his, and thinking what a
fine figure of a man he was for over sixty. And next I heard he was
dead.

Then Mis' MacFarland had a spell of sickness, and that is how I came to
be housekeeper to her and Moira. And I remember how she struck me the
first day, for there she was sitting looking out over the bay watching
the boats as though the sight of them gave her pleasure. I was so
surprised I spoke right out:

"Why, Mis' MacFarland," says I, "I thought you couldn't abide the look
of salt water."

"I don't seem to feel there's the difference between land and sea I used
to," she says in her gentle, smiling way. "We learn."

I wanted to ask her how we learned what I saw she'd learned, for, if you
can understand me, _she seemed to have gotten beyond grief_, but before
I could speak Moira came running in and it seemed as if the joy in her
heart shone out of her so the place was all lighted up. Her face was
tanned so brown that her blue eyes looked strange, and against her skin
the fair hair around her forehead looked almost silver.

"Where you been," I said, "to have so much fun?"

"In the back country," says she. "I'm always happy when I come from in
back."

"Were you alone?" She stopped a minute before she answered.

"Yes--I suppose so," as if she didn't quite know. It was a funny answer
but there was a funny, secret, joyful look on her face that suddenly
made me take her in my arms and kiss her, and quite surprised to find
myself doing it.

Then she sat down and I went around getting supper; first I thought she
was reading, she was so still. Then my eyes happened to fall on her and
I saw she was _listening_; then suddenly it was like she _heard_. She
had the stillest, shiningest look. All this don't sound like much, I
know, but I won't forget how Moira and Mis' MacFarland struck me that
first day, not till I die.

When I went to bed I couldn't get 'em out of my mind and I found myself
saying out loud:

"There's joy and peace in this house!"

It was quite a time before I sensed what had happened to Mis' MacFarland
and what made her change so toward the sea. She'd sit by the window, a
Bible in her hands and praying, and you would catch the words of her
prayer, and she was praying for those she loved--for the living and the
dead. That was only natural--but what I got to understand was that _she
didn't feel any different about them_. Not a bit different did she feel
about the living and the