“I didn't know but you might be kind of nervous and scart when 'twas blowin'. All alone so.”
“Humph! I've got used to bein' alone. As for Miss Ruth, I don't think she's scart of anythin'.”
“Well, I was sort of nervous about you, if you wa'n't about yourself. 'Twas consider'ble of a gale of wind. I thought one spell I'd blow out of the top of the tower.”
“So did I. I could see your shadow movin' 'round up there once in a while. What made you come out on the gallery in the worst of it night afore last?”
“Oh, the birds was smashin' themselves to pieces against the glass same as they always do in a storm, and I . . . But say! 'twas after twelve when I came out. How'd you come to see me? What was your doin' up that time of night?”
Mrs. Bascom's color deepened. She seemed put out by the question.
“So much racket a body couldn't sleep,” she explained sharply. “I thought the shingles would lift right off the roof.”
“But you wa'n't lookin' at the shingles. You was lookin' at the lighthouses; you jest said so. Emeline, was you lookin' for me? Was you worried about me?”
He bent forward eagerly.
“Hush!” she said, “you'll wake up the other woman-hater.”