fortin.
An' now this inn will pan out, you jest mark my words. It stands t'
reason folks would rather go to a inn than to a boardin' house!" Davy
grinned at Janet over a cup of tea green enough and strong enough to
curl any ordinary tongue.

"Pa's goin' t' cook, an' Mark's goin' t' run the business," added Davy.

"Well, they'll have good cooking." Janet smiled as she thought of the
scheme. "Maybe they'll let me wait upon table."

"Like as not they will if ye want t'. Well, 't ain't any more than fair,
ye consarned little trap, but that ye should do yer turn at waitin' on
Mark. Sho! just hear that gale, will ye! It's steered round an' is
comin' straight off sea. By gum! If any craft drifts on t' the bar
t'-night there's goin' t' be spry dancin' at the Station." Davy went to
the window, and peered out. The early afternoon was bitterly cold, and
darkened by wind-driven clouds, full of storm and fury.

"They've got an extra hand, such as it is." Janet came and stood close
by Davy.

"Who?" he asked.

"James B. He went on with John Thomas."

"Did, did he? Well, by gum! Janet, I wish to thunder I could get Billy
to give up the Life Crew an' take Mark's place here!"

"Why, Davy?" There was intensity and pathos in the question, and trouble
in the gentle eyes.

"'Cause!" vouchsafed Davy, "jest 'cause. That's why. Fetch me a bite in
the lamp, Janet, 'long 'bout sundown. I ain't comin' down, once I go up
this afternoon. I ain't lookin' fur trouble. 'T ain't my way, but
somehow, when such a night as this is like t' be settles down, it don't
seem anythin' more'n friendly fur me t' bear the Light company."

So Janet cleared the dinner away; she found little tasks to fill the
darkening hours, and with eagerness prepared the tray for Davy and took
it aloft at sundown. By that time the wind was almost a hurricane; and
before it were driven sharp sheets of snow that cut and sounded as they
sped madly landward. The tower swayed perceptibly. Davy's face was
grimly careworn, and his manner forbade sociability.

Janet waited a few moments; then, realizing Davy's mood, left the tray
and went below. But now a trembling and inward terror possessed her. She
tried to shake off the feeling with contempt for her folly. She sang,
remembering Davy's philosophy, "When ye sing ye open the safety valve
fur more to get out than words an' music." But this song gave relief
only to sound and mental action.

Early night came with eagerness, as