verlet, and fell back on the pillows, where she lay white and still.

"Out with you!" said my sister to the doctor-woman. "I'll have no more
o' your cures!"

"Oh, my!" shrilled the woman, dropping into her most biting manner.
"_She_ won't have no more o' my cures! Oh, dear, she----"

"Out with you!" cried my sister, as she smartly clapped her hands under
the woman's nose. "Out o' the house with you!"

"Oh, 'tis _out_ with me, is it? Out o' the _house_ with me! Oh, dear!
Out o' the house with _me_! I'll have you t' know----"

My sister ignored the ponderous fist raised against her. She stamped her
small foot, her eyes flashing, the blood flushing her cheeks and brow.

"Out you go!" she cried. "_I'm_ not afeared o' you!"

I stood aghast while the doctor-woman backed through the door. Never
before had I known my gentle sister to flash and flush with angry
passion. Nor have I since.

* * * * *

Next morning, my father paid the woman from Wolf Cove a barrel of flour,
with which she was ill content, and traded her two barrels more for the
horse-chestnut, which my mother wished to keep lying on her breast,
because it comforted her. To Skipper Tommy Lovejoy fell the lot of
taking the woman back in the punt; for, as my father said, 'twas he that
brought her safely, and, surely, the one who could manage that could be
trusted to get her back without accident.

"An' 'tis parlous work, lad," said the skipper, with an anxious shrug,
while we waited on the wharf for the woman to come. "I'm very much
afeared. Ay," he added, frowning, "I is that!"

"I'm not knowin' why," said I, "for the wind's blowin' fair from the
sou'west, an' you'll have a fine time t' Wolf Cove."

"'Tis not that," said he, quietly. "Hist!" jerking his head towards our
house, where the woman yet was. "'Tis _she_!"

"I'd not be afeared o' _she_," said I. "'Twas but last night," I added,
proudly, "my sister gave her her tea in a mug."

"Oh, ay," said he, "I heared tell o' that. But 'tis not t' the point.
Davy, lad," in an undertone which betrayed great agitation, "she've her
cap set for a man, an' she's desperate."

"Ay?" said I.

He bent close to my ear. "An' she've her eye on _me_!" he whispered.

"Skipper Tommy," I earnestly pleaded, "don't you go an' do it."

"Well, lad," he answered, pulling at his nose, "the good Lard made me
what I is. I'm not complainin' o' the taste He showed. No, no! I would
not think o' do