“I’d be willing enough to miss seeing it,” said Cheviot, “and I’m not squeamish either. But, Lord! some of those faces!”
The old man nodded. “I keep away from the water front as much as I can. Can’t stand it. I’ve never seen such despair in human eyes. If there are lost souls on the earth, I’ve seen them on the beach at Nome.”
“Well, I dare say a little of it will go a long way with me, too.”
“Hildegarde, you’re growing very like your mother.”
“Thank you, father,” said the girl, imperturbably.
“The trouble is if you insisted on having ‘a little’ of Nome, you might have to take a great deal,” Cheviot said.
“Why might I?”
He exchanged a look with Mr. Mar. “Come out here, Hildegarde, and I’ll show you.”
As she followed to the ship’s side, “What makes the dog howl so?” she asked. “Look! he’ll be out of that little boat in a minute—he’ll be drowned.”