to my sister and me, that the current of our life once
more ran smooth.

* * * * *

And Jagger of Wayfarer's Tickle--the same who sat at cards with the
mail-boat doctor and beat his dog with the butt of a whip--having got
news of my father's death, came presently to our harbour, with that in
mind which jumped ill with our plans. We had dispiriting weather: a raw
wind bowled in from the northeast, whipping the fog apace; and the sea,
as though worried out of patience, broke in a short, white-capped lop,
running at cross purposes with the ground swell. 'Twas evil sailing for
small craft: so whence came this man's courage for the passage 'tis past
me even now to fathom; for he had no liking to be at sea, but, rather,
cursed the need of putting out, without fail, and lay prone below at
such unhappy times as the sloop chanced to toss in rough waters,
praying all the time with amazing ferocity. Howbeit, across the bay he
came, his lee rail smothered; and when he had landed, he shook his
gigantic fist at the sea and burst into a triumphant bellow of
blasphemy, most thrilling (as we were told) to hear: whereafter, with a
large air (as of prospective ownership), he inspected the flakes and
storehouses, heartily condemned them, wished our gaping crew to
perdition, and, out of breath at last, moved up the path to our house,
his great dog hanging like a shadow at his heels--having come and gone
on the wharves, as Tom Tot said, like a gale o' wind.

My sister and I sat dreaming in the evening light--wherein, of soft
shadows and western glory, fine futures may by any one be fashioned.

"'Tis rich," said I, "that _I'm_ wantin' t' be."

"Not I," said she.

"Not you?"

"Not rich," she answered, "but helpful t' such as do the work o' the
world."

"T' me, Bessie?"

"Ay," with a smile and half a sigh, "t' you."

"An' only me? I'd not be selfish with you. Is you wishin' t' be
helpful--only t' me?"

"No."

"T' him?"

"An it please you," she softly answered.

"An' we t' you, Bessie!" I cried, in a rapture, kissing her plump little
hand, which lay over my shoulder, convenient to my lips. "Ay, for your
loving-kindness, my sister!"

"'Tis t' you, first of all, Davy," she protested, quickly, "that I'm
wishin' t' be helpful; an' then t' him, an' then t'----"

"T' who?" I demanded, frowning.

"All the world," said she.

"Very well," said I, much relieved to find that the interloper was no
mor