He had his small sketch-book in his pocket: indeed he rarely went out without it: and he drew it forth. Ethel held the leaves down on one side the opened page, and he on the other: with his other hand he rapidly took the lines of the horizon before him, and depicted the mountainous billows of the raging sea. Just a few bold strokes--and: he left the rest to be filled in at a calmer season.
"Thank you that is enough," he said to Ethel. But it took both their efforts to close the book again securely. The wind had all but torn its pages out; a lawful prey.
"There are people existing who hate never seen the sea," remarked Ethel. "I wonder if they can form even a faint conception of the scene it presents on such a day as this?"
"Thousands and thousands have never seen it," said Mr. North. "Perhaps millions, taking the world from Pole to Pole."
Ethel laughed at a thought that came to her. "Do you know, Mr. North, there is an old woman at Stilborough who has never seen it. She has never in her life been as far as Greylands--only three miles."
"It is scarcely believable."
"No: but it is true. It is old Mrs. Fordham. Her two daughters kept a cotton and tape shop in New Street. They sell fishing-tackle, too, and writing-paper, and many other things. If you choose to go and ask Mrs. Fordham, for yourself, she would tell you she has never had the curiosity to come as far as as this to see the sea."
"But why?"
"For no reason, she says, except that she has always been a great stay-at-home. She had a good many children for one thing, and they took up all the time of her best years."
"I should like to charter a gig and bring the old lady to see it to-day," exclaimed Mr. North. "I wonder whether she would be astonished?"