"I like Shaloor myself rather the best. But go ahead," said the exacting guest. [Pg 109] And with a glance around at us that said, "Don't let me bore you!" our host went ahead. "I like Shaloor myself rather the best. [Pg 109] "Captain Gilroy built the big house, and he Still lives there with his aging family. He built the sloop, and when he used to come Back from the Banks he made her more his home, With his two boys, than the big house. The two Counted with him a good half of her crew, Until it happened, on the Banks, one day The oldest boy got in a steamer's way, And went down in his dory. In the fall The others came without him. That was all That showed in either one of them except That now the father and the brother slept Ashore, and not on board. When the spring came They sailed for the old fishing-ground the same As ever. Yet, not quite the same. The brother, If you believed what folks say, kissed his mother Good-by in going; and by general rumor, The father, so far yielding as to humor His daughters' weakness, rubbed his stubbly cheek Against their lips. Neither of them would speak, But the dumb passion of their love and grief In so much show at parting found relief. "Captain Gilroy built the big house, and he [Pg 110] [Pg 110] "The weeks passed and the months. Sometimes they heard At home, by letter, from the sloop, or word Of hearsay from the fleet. But by and by Along about the middle of July, A time in which they had no news began, And holding unbrokenly through August, ran Into September. Then, one afternoon, While the world hung between the sun and moon, And while the mother and her girls were sitting Together with their sewing and their knitting,— Before the early-coming evening's gloom Had gathered round them in the living-room, Helplessly wondering to each other when They should hear something from their absent men,— They saw, all three, against the window-pane, A face that came and went, and came again, Three times, as though for each of them, about As high up from the porch's floor without As a man's head would be that stooped to stare Into the room on their own level there. Its eyes dwelt on them wistfully as if Longing to speak with the dumb lips some grief They could not speak. The women did not start Or scream, though each one of them, in her heart, [Pg 111] Knew she was looking on no living face, But stared, as dumb as it did, in her
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