"Was it long ago, Jim?" "When she died?" "Yes." "Yes, very long ago. Six years ago." "Before you came here, then?" "Yes, sir." After they had walked in silence for a little while, Marche said, "I suppose you have arranged for somebody to take me out?" "Yes, sir." They emerged from the lane to the shore at the same moment, and Marche glanced about for the expected bayman. [Pg 47] "Oh, there he is!" he said, as a figure came from behind a dory and waded leisurely shoreward through the shallows—a slight figure in hip boots and wool shooting hood and coat, who came lightly across the sands to meet him. And, astonished, he looked into the gray eyes of Molly Herold. [Pg 47] "Father could not take you," she said, without embarrassment, "and Jim isn't quite big enough to manage the swans and geese. Do you mind my acting as your bayman?" "Mind?" he repeated. "No, of course not. Only—it seems rather rough on you. Couldn't you have hired a bayman for me?" "I will, if you wish," she said, her cheeks reddening. "But, really, if [Pg 48]you'll let me, I am perfectly accustomed to bayman's work." [Pg 48] "Do you want to do it?" She said, without self-consciousness, "If it is the same to you, Mr. Marche, I had rather that the bayman's wages came to us." "Certainly—of course," he said hurriedly. Then, smiling: "You look the part. I took you for a young man, at first. Now, tell me how I can help you." "Jim can do that. Still, if you don't mind handling the decoys——"
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