The lightkeeper's mouth was twisted with a violent emotion. He remembered his view of that afternoon's swimming lesson.
“He said he was,” he snarled. “He pretends he is.”
Mrs. Bascom smiled. “I want to know,” she said. “Umph! I thought . . . However, it's no matter. Perhaps he is. Anyhow he can pretend to be and you can pretend to believe him. That'll be the easiest way, I guess. Of course,” she added, “I ain't tellin' you what to do with any idea that you'll do it because I say so. The time for that is all past and gone. But it seems to me that, for once in my life, I'd be man enough to stick it out. I wouldn't run away again.”
Seth did not answer. He scowled and stared at the circle of lantern light on the stone floor. Mrs. Bascom rose from her seat on the stairs.
“Well,” she observed, “I must be gettin' back to the house if I want to get any sleep to-night. I doubt if I get much, for a body don't get over a shock, such as I've had, in a minute. But I'm goin' to get over it and I'm goin' to stay right here and do my work; I'm goin' to go through with what seems to be my duty, no matter how hard it is. I've done it afore, and I'll do it again. I've promised, and I keep my promises. Good night.”
She started toward the door. Her husband sprang from the oil barrel.
“Hold on,” he cried; “you wait a minute. I've got somethin' to say.”
She shook her head. “I can't wait,” she said; “I've got to go.”
“No, you ain't, neither. You can stay a spell longer, if you want to.”
“Perhaps, but I don't want to.”