Uncle Terry was
pulling out of the little cove, Albert said, "That old lady is the most
pious person I ever met, and with her it seems entirely sincere. No one
could doubt she means every word she says."

"Wal, it's about all the consolation she gits out o' life, an' 'twixt
you an' me she takes more'n all the rest o' the believers here,"
answered Uncle Terry, "an' at times I 'most envy her fer it. She don't
airn more'n 'nough to keep soul an' body together, an' winters some on
us allus helps her. She has nobody in the world that's near her, lives
alone in a little shanty, an' is over seventy, and yet she thanks the
Lord three times a day for his many blessin's an's sure he'd never let
her come to want. She's lived that way fer goin' on thirty year, an' no
one ever heard her complain. Both her husband an' son went down in a
coaster one winter's night, on Monhegan Shoals, an' tho' nachly she took
on 'bout it a spell, she believed it was the Lord's will, an' meant to
be a blessin'."

"She is a monomaniac on the subject, I should imagine," observed
Albert.

"Wal, sorter cracked 'bout religion," answered Uncle Terry, "leastwise
that's my notion; an' mebbe it's lucky she is, seein' she's poor, an'
nothin' but that fer comfort. She's smart 'nuff other ways, though, an'
there ain't nothin' goin' on here she don't know. She's kind-hearted
too, an' if she had anything ter give, she'd share her last cent with
ye. If ennybody's sick, she's allus ready to help. Thar's lots o' wuss
folks in the world than the Widder Leach." And then as if that crowned
the sum total of her virtues he added, "Telly an' Lissy thinks lots o'
her."

He paused for breath, and turning to see if they were heading right,
resumed his strong and steady pulling. The morning was wondrously fair
and still; the sun, a round red ball, had been up not over half an hour,
and a mile ahead of them lay Damriscove Island, green and treeless.
Close by a flock of seagulls were floating on the still water, and away
out seaward the swells were breaking on a long and narrow ledge.

"Thar," observed Uncle Terry, pointing to this ledge, "is whar Telly
started for shore all alone, just nineteen years ago last March." And
then adding, while he watched Albert's averted face, "'Twas an onlucky
day fer the poor sailors an' a lucky one for us, fer she's been a heap
o' comfort ever since."

"Tell me, Uncle Terry," said Albert, "why it is she feels so extremely
sensitive regard