Uncle Terry: A Story of the Maine Coast

It's goin' to be a nasty night, said Uncle Terry, coming in from the shed and dumping an armful of wood in the box behind the kitchen stove, an' the combers is just a-humpin' over White Hoss Ledge, an' the spray's flyin' half way up the lighthouse.
The Lord-a-massy help any poor soul that goes ashore to-night, responded a portly, white-haired woman beside the stove, as a monster wave made the little dwelling tremble.
Uncle Terry took off his dripping sou'wester and coat, and, hanging them over the wood box, went to the sink and began pumping a basin of water.
Better have some warm, Silas, said the woman, taking the steaming kettle from the stove and following him; it's more comfortin'.
When he had washed, and combed his scanty gray locks and beard at a small mirror, he stood for a moment beside the stove. His weather-beaten face that evinced character, so pronounced were its features, wore a smile, and his deep-set gray eyes emitted a twinkle.
Supper 'most ready, Lissy? he asked, eyeing a pot on the stove that gave out an appetizing odor. I'm hungry 'nough to eat a mule with the harness on!
'Twill be in a minit, was the reply. Better go into t'other room where Telly's settin' the table.
Uncle Terry obeyed, and, finding a bright fire burning there, stood back to it, smiling affectionately at a young girl busy beside the table. She had an oval face, a rather thin and delicate nose, small sweet mouth, and eyes that were big, blue, and appealing. A wealth of light hair was coiled on the back of her head, and her form was full and rounded.
It's blowing hard to-night, father, isn't it? she observed. I can feel the waves shake the house. Then, not waiting for an answer, she stepped to a closet, and bringing a short gray coat and felt slippers, pushed an arm-chair to the fire, and placing the slippers beside it, held the coat ready for him to put it on.
You might as well be comfortable, she added; you haven't got to go out again, have you?