"Pogeys?"
"Yes."
"You ought to be. What for did they send you to the convent all those four years?"
"It was only three. And the nuns never taught us no such things as about pogey-fishing. But no matter. Thomas Ned will know what you mean, because that's what he's gone fishing after."
And she continued: "'I miss yous awful some days. when you comes back in octobre we's git married sure.'"
She looked up. "That's all you told me so far."
Sabine's face was drawn into furrows of intense thought. "How many more lines is there to fill?"
"Seven."
"Well, then, tell him I was looking at the little house what his auntie Sophie John left him and thinking how nice it would be when there was some front steps and the shimney was fix' and there were curtains to the windows in front and some geraniums and I t'ink I will raise some hens because they are such good company running in and out all day when he will be away pogey-fishing but perhaps when we're married he won't have to go off any more because his healt' is put to danger by it and how would it do, say, if he got a little horse and truck with the hundred and fifty dollars I got saved up and did work by the day for people ashore and then"—she paused for breath.
"Is that too much to write?" she remarked with sudden anxiety.