“There’ll be an apple-bee at your house or at Jonathan’s this week, will there not?”
“Ay, at Jonathan’s on the Thursday, and Lucretia bade me invite you all.”
“Well, then, you foolish boy, sure that is your errand to Lora, and you’ll find her on the hill, most like at what she calls her sunset seat.”
“’Twas I that made it for her,” said Wrestling eagerly, and Barbara, smiling in the way matrons smile at transparent youth, replied,—
“Then you know where it is. Go, and God go with you.”
“My grateful duty to you, dame,” murmured the young fellow, and went like an arrow from a bow.
A half hour later Barbara, setting her wheel aside, stepped to the door to look toward the hill, and to judge by the position of the sun how near the hour might be to supper time.
Coming up from the shore she saw her husband, and at the first glance knew that he was ill-pleased; with this conviction came a foreboding that made her turn her eyes again toward the hill, but now it was the daughter, and not the sun, for which she looked.
“Where’s Lora, wife?” inquired the captain so soon as he was within speaking distance.