st-office-her daily custom-the dressmaker, who was sitting in the window, one eye on her needle and the

ngle, too, she could see quite easily, and without more than twisting her attenuated neck, the whole village street from the Cromartins' gate to the spire of the village church, as well as everything that passed up and down the shadow-flecked road: which child, for instance, was late for school, and how often, and what it wore and whether its clothes were new or inherited from an elder sister; who came to the Bronsons' next door, and how long they stayed, and whether they brought anything with them or carried anything away; the peddler with his pack; t

d mother who sat huddled up in a rocking-chair by the stov

in one has sucked the life out of you," he would say with a laugh, "she passes you on to her old mother, who si

courage of youth, had then stepped into the gap and had alone made the fight for bread. Gradually, as the years went by the roses in her cheeks-never too fresh at any time-had begun to fade, her face and figure to shrink, and her brow to tighten. At last, embit

he spider-web referred to by Uncle Ephraim-she halted in her walk, lingered a moment as if undecided, expressed her opinion of the dressmaker to Meg i

e folks I'd see my company in my parlor, long as I had one, 'stead of hidin' down behind the House o' Refuge. I said to mother soon's I got in, 'I'm goin' to

scaping from a figure muffled in a bl

that draggle-tail dog of yours barkin',

Martha. She had not understood a

to Fogarty's; it's my week. Miss Jane and Bart didn't see me-didn't wa

terday afternoon," said Martha in

lose you couldn't get a bodkin 'tween 'em. She had that red cloak around her and the hood up ever

a soul on the beach but Meg and the sandsnipe." For an instant she stood without answering. But for the window-sill on which her hand rested she would have betrayed her emotion in the swaying of

nobody will deny you them, but still I don't

o'es when I see 'em on folks. I made that red cloak for Miss Jane two years ago, and I know every stitch in it. Don't you try and teach Ann Gossaw

only increased the outspoken dislike each had for the other. She saw now, to her delight, that the incident which had seemed to be only a bit of flotsam that had drifted to her shore and which but from Martha's manner would have been forgotten by her the next day, might be a fragment detached from so

ould come to her bairn if that kind of gossip got abroad in the village. She was no longer the gentle, loving nurse with the soft caressing hand, but a woman of

which she worshipped her bairn. Hours at a time she had spent puzzling her brain trying to account for the change which had come over the girl during two short years of school. She had until now laid this change to her youth, her love of admiration, and had forgiven it. Now she understood it; it was that boy Bart. He had a way with him. He had even ingratiated himself

t down a side road to Captain Nat Holt's house. That the captain occupied a different station in life from herself did not deter her. She fel

e a few years before he had left the service, and now spent most of his days at home, tending his garden and enjoying his savings. He was a man of positive character and generally had his own way in ev

e manner of the nurse surprised him. He had known her for years, ever since his old friend, Lucy's father, ha

y sick, is t

re will be.

es

ind ye and sit down. I'v

an of few words, and those always of command, closed the door upon them, drew down the shade on the sun

is time regained something of the dictatorial ton

him away." She had not moved from h

color and his voic

at's he d

y hidin' behind the House o' Refuge with their heads together. She had on Miss Jan

the absurdity of the whole thing burst upon him. Then dropping back a step, he stood leaning

. "I told her she'd have 'em all crazy, and I hear Bart ain't d

to the captain and hel

. "If he don't there'll be trouble, for you and h

"My boy keep away from the daughter of Morton Cobden, who was the best friend I ever had and to whom I owe

ard, her eyes searching his-so close that she

y he touches her hand and ties on her bonnet. I've watched him ever since the first night he laid eyes on her. He ain't a man with a heart in him; he's a sneak with a lie in his mouth. Why don't he come round like any of the others and say where he's goin' and what he wants to do instead of peepin' round the gate-posts watchin' for her and sendin' her notes on the sly, and makin' her lie to me, her old nurse, who's done nothin' but lov

with his clenched fist raised above his h

ill him!" The words jumped hot from his throat wi

I live." Then her voice broke. "Please, captain, please," she added in a piteous tone. "Don't mind me if

deep thought. Martha's tears did not move him. The tears of few women did. He was only

nts to. Sounds like a yarn of a horse-marine." As he spoke he crossed the room and, dragging a rocking-chair from its pl

y narvous?" he continued, lying back in his chair and looking at he

th his head in her lap. Fogarty's man who brings fish to the hou

ng tone in it. He had taken his thumb and forefinger from his eyebrow n

with the other things I've told ye?" Mar

ad at last arrived at a conclusion. Martha's head was muddled because of her inordinate and unnatural love for the child she had nursed. She had found a spookship i

room, and opened the door leading to the porch, letti

ght. You're makin' more fuss than a hen over one chicken. Miss Jane knows what she's about. She's got a level head, and when she tells me that my Bart ain't good enough to ship alongside the daughter of Mor