Athalie

At first she thought the room was empty, and had strolled over toward

the stove to warm her snow-wet shoes, when all at once she became

aware of a boy.

The boy was lying back on a leather chair, stockinged feet crossed,

hands in his pocket, looking at her. He wore the leather shooting

clothes of a duck-hunter; on the floor beside him lay his cap,

oil-skins, hip-boots, and his gun. A red light from the stove fell

across his dark, curly hair and painted one side of his face crimson.

Athalie, surprised, was not, however, in the least disturbed or

embarrassed. She looked calmly at the boy, at the woollen stockings on

his feet.

"Did you manage to get dry?" she asked in a friendly voice.

Then he seemed to come to himself. He took his hands from his pockets

and got up on his stockinged feet.

"Yes, I'm dry now."

"Did you have any luck?"

"I got fifteen--counting shell-drake, two redheads, a black duck, and

some buffle-heads."

"Where were you shooting?"

"Off Silver Shoal."

"Who was your bay-man?"

"Bill Nostrand."

"Why did you stop shooting so early?"

"Fifteen is the local limit this year."

Athalie nodded and bit into her turnover, reflectively. When she

looked up, something in the boy's eye interested her.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

He looked embarrassed, then laughed: "Yes, I am."

"Wait; I'll get you a turnover," she said.

When she returned from the kitchen with his turnover he was standing.

Rather vaguely she comprehended this civility toward herself although

nobody had ever before remained standing for her.

Not knowing exactly what to do or say she silently presented the

pastry, then drew a chair up into the red firelight. And the boy

seated himself.

"I suppose you came with those hunters from New York," she said.

"Yes. I came with my father and three of his friends."

"They are out still I suppose."

"Yes. They went over to Brant Point."

"I've often sailed there," remarked Athalie. "Can you sail a boat?"

"No."

"It is easy.... I could teach you if you are going to stay a while."

"We are going back to New York to-morrow morning.... How did you learn

to sail a boat?"

"Why, I don't know. I've always lived here. Mr. Ledlie has a boat.

Everybody here knows how to manage a cat-boat.... If you'll come down

this summer I'll teach you. Will you?"