either, an' I drove round thinkin' I'd fetch Willie home with me to have a look at it. He's got a knack with such things an' I calculate he'd know what's the matter with it. Darned if I do." 

 The man began to move away across the grass. 

 Celestina, however, who was in the mood for gossip, had no mind to let him escape so easily. 

 "How's your folks?" questioned she, dropping her dishcloth into the pan and following him to the door. 

 "Oh, we're all right," returned Zenas Henry with a backward glance. "Captain Benjamin's shoulder pesters him some about layin', but I tell him he can't expect rain an' fog not to bring rheumatism." 

 "That's so," agreed Celestina.  "What a spell of weather we've had! I guess it's about over now, though. I'm sorry Benjamin's shoulders should hector him so. We're gettin' old, Zenas Henry, that's the plain truth of it, an' must cheerfully take our share of aches an' pains, I s'pose. Are Captain Phineas an' Captain Jonas well?" 

 "Oh, they're nimble as crabs." 

 "An' Abbie?" 

 "Fine as a clipper in a breeze!" responded the man with enthusiasm. "Best wife that ever was! The sun rises an' sets in that woman, Celestina. What she can't do ain't worth doin'! Turns off work like as if it was of no account an' grows better lookin' every day a-doin' it." 

 Celestina laughed. 

 "I reckon you didn't make no mistake gettin' married, Zenas Henry," mused she. 

 "Mistake!" repeated Zenas Henry. 

 "An' no mistake takin' in the child, either," went on Celestina, unheeding the interruption. 

 She saw his face soften and a glow of tenderness overspread it. 

 "Delight was sent us out of heaven," he declared with solemnity. "'Twas as much intended that ship should come ashore here an' the three captains an' myself bring that little girl to land as that the sun should rise in the mornin'. The child was meant fur us—fur us an' fur nobody else on earth. Was she our own daughter we couldn't be fonder of her than we are. It's ten years now since the wreck of the Michleen. Think of it! How time flies! Ten years—an' the girl's most twenty. I can't realize it. Why, it seems 

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