There's a dandy world around us full of
sun to warm us and food to eat, and birds to sing to us, and flowers and
things to make us feel good. If we needed more I guess Providence would
have handed it out. But it didn't. And so we got busy with our own
notions till we've turned God's elegant creation into a home for crazes
and cranks. I could almost fancy the Archangels hovering around, like
those silly sea-gulls, with a bunch of straight-jackets to wrap about us
when we jump the limit they figger we've a right to. Fools, yes? Why, I
guess so--sure."

Nancy breathed a deep sigh.

"My, but that's a big say."

Then she broke into a laugh which found prompt response in the other. It
was cut short, however. A sea thundered against the staunch side of the
vessel and left her staggering. The girl's eyes became seriously
anxious. The straining chairs held, and presently the deck swung up to a
comparative level.

"I had visions of the--"

"Scuppers?" Bull laughed. "Yes. That sea's one of the elegant things
Providence handed out for our happiness."

Nancy nodded.

"So man built things like the _Myra_, which, of course, was--foolish?"

"An' set out sailing around in a winter storm off Labrador, instead of
basking in a pleasant tropical sun, which hasn't any--sense."

Bull chuckled.

"All because two mighty fine enterprises reckoned they'd common
interests which were jeopardised by rivalry, which was also--foolishly?"

Bull's cigar ash tumbled into his lap.

"But not ha'f so foolish as the notion that a girl has to suffer the
worries and dangers of one hell of a trip on the worst sea that God ever
made to try and square the things between them."

Nancy shook her head.

"I can't grant that," she cried quickly.

"No?"

"I mean--oh, psha! Don't you see, or does your cynical philosophy blind
you? We're fools, maybe. The things Providence sends us aren't the
things we've got a notion for. Maybe we know better than Providence, and
can't find happiness in the things it's handed us. What then? As you
say, we start right in chasing happiness in the way we fancy. It seems
to me the only real happiness in life is in doing. Ease, wealth, love,
all the things folk talk and write about are just dreams of happiness
that aren't real. Work, achievement, even if it's wrong-headed--that's
life; that's happiness. That's why I'd say there's nothing foolish in a
girl putting up with dangers and discomforts to bring two enterprises