Part 14 (1/2)

Miss Pray tried to arouse one of her two orphans--her help: for answer they screamed aloud, sinking back into a sleep deep with snores of utter repose.

”s.h.!.+ s.h.!.+” she said. ”I'll go home with you, Jimmy.”

I had not taken off my great-coat. I went out of my room and followed them, unseen. In sight of the Kirtland home-light Jimmy ran in, glad.

Miss Pray turned to face the darkness alone; she went a few paces, stopped, hesitated, and began to weep softly.

”I am here to walk home with you, Miss Pray,” I said. ”Come; I can see very well in the dark.”

”Thank G.o.d!” said she, and came toward me with a little bound; for it seemed that it did not make any difference to her in this emergency that I did not know how to spell.

VII

”SETTIN' ON THE FENCE”--THE s.h.i.+FTY SPECTRE

”Admiral 's I sum-sit-up,” collector of road-taxes, a t.i.tle cheerfully accorded him through the genial courtesy of the Basin, came down from the Point.

In the distance we could hear him approaching as usual, the pa.s.sionless monotone of his voice growing ever nearer and more distinct, as he flapped methodically first one rein, then the other, over the unhurried action of his horse, sagely admonis.h.i.+ng him to ”G'long! ye old fool!

Git up! ye old skate!”

His mortal conversation, too, though cutting and profound, was, in the deepest sense, without rancor or emotion.

”'S I sums it up,” said he, ”yer road down through the woods 's gittin'

more rid.i.c.k'lous 'n ever.”

”Poo! poo! Wouldn't be afraid to bet ye she ain't,” said Captain Pharo Kobbe, with glowing pipe.

”Ye seem to boast yerselves 't ye don't belong to nothin' down here,”

continued the admiral; ”but ye does. Ye belongs to a shyer town. Ye orter have some pride. 'S I sums it up, be you goin' to pay yer rates, or work 'em out mendin' yer roads?”

”I've noticed pretty darned well 't I don't belong to no town, only when it comes to votin' some on ye into offis' up there and payin'

taxes,” said one of the Basin group--Captain Dan Kirtland, Vesty's father. ”I ain't a-goin' to pay no rates, nor work 'em out on no roads neither. When I goes I goes by boat, 'n' I didn't see, when I was out pollockin' this mornin', but what the water 's jest as smooth as she ever was!”

A low murmur of sympathetic laughter ran through the group.

”I goes by boat--when I goes,” said Captain Leezur benignantly. ”She _is_ smoother, sartin she is. But some, ye know, 's never sartisfied.

Some neow 's all'as s.h.i.+ftin' a chaw o' tobackker----”

”Comparin' of the road with the water,” said Captain Rafe, father of Fluke and Gurdon, ”I permits it to ye all that thar' ain't that steadiness about the land that thar' is about the water. Thar 's a kind o' a weaviness and onsartainty about the land.”

”'S I sums it up,” said the imperturbable collector, grave pipe of expired ashes in mouth, ”thar 's some bottom to the water, but it 's purty nigh fell out o' yer roads down here. Ye're a disgrace to a shyer town.”

Loud and unoffended laughter from the group.

”I permits 't thar 's some advantages about the land,” continued Captain Rafe. ”I wants ter go out and shute me a mess o' coots once in a while, and ketch me a mess o' brook-trout, but as for tinkerin' over the roads--why, that artis' that was down here three months las'

summer, paintin' a couple o' Leezur's sheep eatin' rock-weed off'n a nubble, said 't our roads was picturusque. You don't suppose I'm goin'

around a-shorin' up and sp'ilin' the picturusque, do ye?”