e's
apologies--whether they touched his mother's ill health, or his own
prosperity's making them unnecessary, did not mend the matter. They
were just common bread and meat, mere physical things, but their want
was heart-hunger, and doubt and suspicion, in place of the love and
pleasure they had always caused.

Generally, however, as one interest in life dies out, another springs
up, and the school building, and the little laddie kept the Ruleson
family happily busy. Ruleson had been asked to superintend the
building and he did the work with a completeness which was natural to
him. He looked over every load of stone, and saw that the blocks of
granite were well fitting, and perfect in color. He examined all the
mortar made, lest the builders follow modern habits and put too much
sand among the lime. He returned as unworthy many pounds of nails,
which were either too short, or too slight, for the purposes for which
they were intended; and the slating for the roof was a thing he did
not trust to anyone but James Ruleson. So the school house and his
fishing kept him busy and happy, and Margot and Christine looked at
him with wonder and pleasure. He was always smiling, and always
listening to Jamie, who was chattering at his side, whenever he was on
land.

So life at Culraine pursued the even tenor of its way, until the
middle of March, when the school was opened for a short quarter until
the herring should come on in July. The building was by no means
finished, but the walls were up, the windows in, the slate roof on,
and the desks and forms in place. The master's room, the painting,
plastering, and decoration were untouched. Ruleson thought they could
be attended to during the herring fishing, and the school formally
opened in September.

To a man quite unaccustomed to business, these were tremendous, yet
delightful responsibilities; and Ruleson lived between his boat and
the school. When he was on land, Jamie was always at his side.
Hitherto Ruleson had been noted for his reticence. Even among such a
silent race as the Fife fishers his silence was remarkable. He had
held his peace even from good, but the child always chattering at his
side had taught him to talk. Jamie's thirst for knowledge was
insatiable, he was always wanting to know something or other, and the
inquisitive "why" was constantly on his lips. Few people could
remember James Ruleson's laughing, now his big guffaw constantly
carried on its echo the lit