"Did you fetch un a fatal wallop?"
"I left the dogs t' finish the job. Hark! They're not feastin', is they? Mm-m? I don't know."
They snuggled up to the little fire. Teddy Brisk was wistful. He talked now—as often before—of the coming of a skiff from Our Harbour. He had a child's intimate knowledge of his own mother—and a child's wise and abounding faith.
"I knows my mother's ways," he declared. "Mark me, Billy, my mother's an anxious woman an' wonderful fond o' me. When my mother heard that sou'west wind blow up, 'Skipper Thomas,' says she t' my grandfather, 'them b'ys is goin' out with the ice; an' you get right straight up out o' bed an' tend t' things.'
"An' my grandfather's a man; an' he says:
"'Go to, woman! They're ashore on Ginger Head long ago!'
"An' my mother says:
"'Ah, well, they mightn't be, you dunder-head!'—for she've a wonderful temper when she's afeared for my safety.
"An' my grandfather says: