he twins--and Skipper Tommy made a dismal quartette of
it--and the wind, rising sharply at that moment, contributed a chorus of
heartrending noises.

"Ay," the skipper continued, "'twas a sad mistake. 'Twas floutin'
Providence t' say a word like that to a woman like she. But I just felt
like it. Then, 'Oh, dear,' says she, ''tis barb'rous lonely t' Wolf
Cove,' says she. ''Tis too bad, mum,' says I. An' I throwed the bow o'
the punt plump into a wave, Davy, lad, an' shipped a bucket o' water.
'An',' says she, 'it must be lonely for you, Skipper Thomas,' says she,
'livin' there at the Rat Hole.'"

Skipper Tommy paused to sigh and tweak his nose; and he tweaked so often
and sighed so long that I lost patience.

"An' what did you do then?" I demanded.

"Took in more water, Davy," he groaned, "for they wasn't nothin' else I
could think of. 'An',' says she, 'is it not lonely, Skipper Thomas,'
says she, 'at the Rat Hole?' 'No, mum,' says I, takin' aboard another
bucket or two, 'for I've the twins,' says I. With that she put her
kerchief to her eyes, Davy, an' begun t' sniffle. An' t' relieve me
feelin's, lad, for I was drove desperate, I just _had_ t' let the top of
a wave fall over the bow: which I done, Davy, an' may the Lard forgive
me! An' I'm not denyin' that 'twas a sizable wave she took."

He stared despondently at the floor.

"She gathered up her skirts," he went on. "An', 'Ah, Skipper Thomas,'
says she, 'twins,' says she, 'is nothin'. 'Sure,' says she, 'twins is no
good on a cold winter's night.' I'm not denyin', Davy," said the
skipper, solemnly, looking me straight in the eye, "that she scared me
with that. I'm not denyin' that me hand slipped. I'm not denyin' that I
put the tiller over a _wee bit_ too far--maybe a foot--maybe a foot an'
a half, in the excitement o' the moment--I isn't quite sure. No, no! I'm
far, lad, from denyin' that I near swamped the boat. ''Tis gettin'
rough,' says she. 'Ay,' says I, 'an' we'll be gettin' along a deal
better, mum,' says I, 'if you bail.' So I kep' her bailin', Davy," the
skipper concluded, with a long sigh and a sad wag of the head, "from
Herring Head t' Wolf Cove. An', well, lad, she didn't quite cotch me,
for she hadn't no time t' waste, but, as I was sayin', she cast a hook."

"You're well rid o' she," said I.

Timmie rose to look out of the window. "Hear the wind!" said he, turning
in awe, while the cottage trembled under the rush of a gust. "My! but
'twill blow,