Blue-Bird Weather

While she was speaking, her brother came quietly into the room with an

open book in his hands, and Marche, glancing at it curiously, saw that

it was a Latin grammar.

"Where do you go to school, Jim?" he asked.

"Father teaches me."

Marche, rather astonished at the calibre of his superintendent,

glanced from the boy to his sister in silence. The girl's head

remained steadily lowered over the papers on her knee, but he saw her

foot swinging in nervous rhythm, and he was conscious of her silent

impatience at something or other, perhaps at the interruption in their

business discussion.

"Well," he said pleasantly, "what comes next, Miss Herold?"

She handed him a list of the decoys. He read it gravely, nodded, and

returned it.

"You may count them for yourself to-morrow," she said.

"Not at all. I trust you entirely," he replied laughingly.

Then they went over the remaining matters, the condition of the pine

timber, the repairs to the boats and blinds and stools, items for snaps,

swivels, paint, cement, wire, none of which interested Marche as much as

the silent boy reading his Latin grammar by the smoky lamp interested

him, or the boy's sister bending over the papers on her knee, pencil

poised in her pretty, weather-roughened hand.

"I sent the shells from New York by express," he said. "Did they

arrive?"

"I left two hundred in your room," said the boy, looking up.

"Oh, thank you, Jim." And, turning to his sister, who had raised her

head, inquiringly, "I suppose somebody will call me at the screech of

dawn, won't they?"

"Do you know the new law?" she asked.

"No. I don't like laws, anyway," he said smilingly.

She smiled, too, gathering up her papers preparatory to departure.

"Nobody is allowed," she said, "to put off from shore until the sun is

above the horizon line. And the wardens are very strict." Then she rose.

"Will you excuse me? I have the dishes to do."

The boy laid aside his book and stood up, but his sister said: "Stay and study, Jim. I don't need any help."

And Jim resumed his seat with heightened color. A moment later, however,

he went out to the kitchen.

"Look here, Molly," he said, "wha'd' you want to give me away for?

He'll think I'm a sissy, helping you do dishes and things."

"My dear, my dear!" she exclaimed contritely, "I didn't think of it.

Please forgive me, Jim. Anyway, you don't really care what this man

thinks about any of us----"