it. A sudden change in the wind
filled the three-cornered sail, and they moved faster.

"She'll make it now, herself, if you'll just keep her straight,
Chauncey; no, 't wa'n't nothin' but a flaw, was it? Guess I'd better
help ye;" and he leaned on the oar once more, and took a steady sight
of the familiar harbor marks.

"We're right over one o' my best lobster rocks," said Chauncey,
looking warm-blooded and cheerful again. "I'm satisfied not to be no
further out; it's beginnin' to snow; see them big flakes a-comin'?
I'll tell the boys about your signin' the paper; I do' know's you'd
better resk it, either."

"Why not?" said Joe Banks hastily. "I suppose you refer to me an'
Lizzie Packer; but she wouldn't think no more o' me for leavin' my
name off a proper neighborhood paper, nor her father, neither. You git
them two pines let alone, and I'll take care o' Lizzie. I've got all
the other boats and men to think of besides me, an' I've got some
pride anyway. I ain't goin' to have Bolton folks an' all on 'em down
to the Centre twittin' us, nor twittin' Packer; he'll turn sour toward
everybody the minute he does it. I know Packer; he's rough and ugly,
but he ain't the worst man in town by a good sight. Anybody'd be all
worked up to go through so much talk, and I'm kind o' 'fraid this
minute his word's passed to Ferris to have them trees down. But you
show him the petition; 't will be kind of formal, and if that don't do
no good, I do' know what will. There you git the sail in while I hold
her stiddy, Chauncey."

IV.

After a day or two of snow that turned to rain, and was followed by
warmer weather, there came one of the respites which keep up New
England hearts in December. The short, dark days seemed shorter and
darker than usual that year, but one morning the sky had a look of
Indian summer, the wind was in the south, and the cocks and hens of
the Packer farm came boldly out into the sunshine, to crow and cackle
before the barn. It was Friday morning, and the next day was the day
before Christmas.

John Packer was always good-tempered when the wind was in the south.
The milder air, which relaxed too much the dispositions of less
energetic men, and made them depressed and worthless, only softened
and tempered him into reasonableness. As he and his wife and daughter
sat at breakfast, after he had returned from feeding the cattle and
horses, he wore a pleasant look, and finally leaned back and said the
warm weathe