kindest critturs in the world they be,
if you only get the right side of 'em," said the Captain.

"Oh, yes! because," said Mara, "I know how good a wolf was to Romulus
and Remus once, and nursed them when they were cast out to die. I read
that in the Roman history."

"Jist so," said the Captain, enchanted at this historic confirmation of
his apocrypha.

"And so," said Mara, "if Moses should happen to get on an iceberg, a
bear might take care of him, you know."

"Jist so, jist so," said the Captain; "so don't you worry your little
curly head one bit. Some time when you come down to see Sally, we'll go
down to the cove, and I'll tell you lots of stories about chil'en that
have been fetched up by white bears, jist like Romulus and what's his
name there."

"Come, Mis' Kittridge," added the cheery Captain; "you and I mustn't be
keepin' the folks up till nine o'clock."

"Well now," said Mrs. Kittridge, in a doleful tone, as she began to put
on her bonnet, "Mis' Pennel, you must keep up your spirits--it's one's
duty to take cheerful views of things. I'm sure many's the night, when
the Captain's been gone to sea, I've laid and shook in my bed, hearin'
the wind blow, and thinking what if I should be left a lone widow."

"There'd a-been a dozen fellows a-wanting to get you in six months,
Polly," interposed the Captain. "Well, good-night, Mis' Pennel; there'll
be a splendid haul of fish at the Banks this year, or there's no truth
in signs. Come, my little Mara, got a kiss for the dry old daddy? That's
my good girl. Well, good night, and the Lord bless you."

And so the cheery Captain took up his line of march homeward, leaving
little Mara's head full of dazzling visions of the land of romance to
which Moses had gone. She was yet on that shadowy boundary between the
dreamland of childhood and the real land of life; so all things looked
to her quite possible; and gentle white bears, with warm, soft fur and
pearl and gold saddles, walked through her dreams, and the victorious
curls of Moses appeared, with his bright eyes and cheeks, over
glittering pinnacles of frost in the ice-land.

CHAPTER XIV

THE ENCHANTED ISLAND

June and July passed, and the lonely two lived a quiet life in the brown
house. Everything was so still and fair--no sound but the coming and
going tide, and the swaying wind among the pine-trees, and the tick of
the clock, and the whirr of the little wheel as Mrs. Pennel sat spinning
in her door