“I know the way,” she said promptly, “I came up.”
“The’s rocks,” said Uncle William. He was lighting a lantern.
“I know about the rocks—I’ll take the lantern—thank you, sir.” She went out of the door and the light of her lantern flitted along down the path over the cliff.
Uncle William’s eye followed it. He chuckled softly and looked at Benjy. “A good deal like the sou’-west wind,” he said, “a little west-by-sou’-west, mebbe—and blowin’ hard.”
“She’s a pretty girl,” said Bodet, watching the light out in the dark.
“She’s a good girl,” said Uncle William. He looked silently at the shining rows of dishes over the sink—He crossed the room and opened the cupboard door under the sink and looked in—“The’ ain’t a dish left,” he said solemnly, “She’s washed ’em all!”
VII
I’VE got a fire made, Celia. You come right along in,” said Uncle William. He regarded her kindly as she stood in the doorway, her curls freshened in the wind and her cheeks touched with clear pink—like the morning outside.