“Runnin’ up an’ down the ropes?”
“Aye, that, an’ more too.”
“Did ye learn tattooin’, dear?”
“Aye, the marks ye’ve seen on my arms an old salt taught me to do. The sailors were clever with the needle, sketchin’ as well as sewin’.”
“Do ye think ye could sketch a star now, Ariel, or have ye forgotten?”
Ariel laughed, partly with pleasure at this talk by the fire, partly from joy in the companionship.
“Aye, I’m thinkin’ I could, little lamb.”
He drew his chair closer to hers and saw her face brighten; it rested her to have him near her, and her thoughts sped back through all the years of loneliness and hunger for the things she could not have; she had a new consciousness of life and of being useful; it was not merely Ariel, it was the house, too, and what she could do to make it—Well, the word escaped her; anyway it was the house as well as Ariel, and it was lovely to think of what she could do for it while he made poetry and sold things in the shop.
“An’, Ariel, could ye sketch me an anchor an’ a bit of rope?”
“Aye, dearie, I could; ye know I could anyway, for I had drawin’ at the school in Carnarvon while I was an apprentice there.”