The Blow Falls.
IT was nearly noon, and quietude reigned over Yelton. The fishermen were all at sea, whilst their wives were busy with their domestic duties within doors, and the children were at school. The village looked actually deserted as Margaret Fowler walked soberly by the "Crab and Cockle." Not a living soul was in sight, and there was no one in Silas Moyle's shop, not even behind the counter, where Mrs. Moyle was generally to be found. Margaret strolled on to Josiah Petherick's cottage, and there was Salome seated in the porch, knitting rapidly whilst she sang to herself in a low, soft undertone. The lame girl's face lit up with a bright smile of pleasure at sight of Margaret, and she turned to reach the crutches by her side.
"Oh, please don't get up!" Margaret cried quickly. "I'll sit down in the porch with you for a little while, if I may. How nice it is here!"
"Yes. Isn't it a beautiful day, miss? Such a fine breeze! All the fishing boats are out. Father was off at daybreak this morning. I got up to give him his breakfast; so that's how it is my work's finished so early."
"What are you making?" Margaret asked, noticing the thick, navy-blue fingering which Salome was knitting.
"A jersey for father, miss. He'll want a new one against the winter."
"What! Do you mean to say you knit your father's jerseys? How clever of you!"
The lame girl smiled and blushed as she responded, "Mother taught me to knit when I was a very little girl, but it was not until after her death that I learnt to make father's jerseys. Mrs. Moyle taught me the way."
"Mrs. Moyle? The baker's wife, do you mean?"
"Yes, miss; she's always most kind to me."