“Isn’t I jus’ tol’ ye so?” he answered, beaming.
Long Bill Tweak followed the night into the shades of forgotten time....
Came Wednesday upon “By-an’-by” Brown in a way to make the heart jump. Midnight of Saturday was now fairly over the horizon of his adventurous sea. Wednesday! Came Thursday—prompt to the minute. Days of bewildered inaction! And now the cottage was ship-shape to the darkest corners of its closets. Ship-shape as a wise and knowing maid of seven, used to housewifely occupations, could make it: which was as ship-shape as ship-shape could be, though you may not believe it. There was no more for the maid to do but sit with folded hands and confidently expectant gaze to await the advent of her happiness. Thursday morning: and “By-an’-by” Brown had not mastered his bearings. Three days more: Thursday, Friday, Saturday. It occurred, then, to “By-an’-by” Brown—at precisely ten o’clock of Friday morning—that his hope lay in Jim Turley of Candlestick Cove, an obliging man. They jus’ had t’ be a father, didn’t they? But they wasn’t no father no more. Well, then, ecod! make one. Had t’ be a father, somehow, didn’t they? And—well—there was Jim Turley o’ Candlestick Cove. He’d answer. Why not Jim Turley o’ Candlestick Cove, an obligin’ man, known t’ be such from Mother Burke t’ the Cape Norman Light? He’d ’blige a shipmate in a mess like this, ecod! You see if he didn’t!
Brown made ready for Candlestick Cove.
“But,” the maid objected, “what is I t’ do if father comes afore night?”
“Ah!” drawled “By-an’-by,” blankly.
“Eh?” she repeated.
“Why, o’ course,” he answered, with a large and immediate access of interest, drawing the arm-chair near the stove, “you jus’ set un there t’ warm his feet.”
“An’ if he doesn’t know me?” she protested.