into the fog. "All over," he repeated mechanically.
As he tramped homeward, the noon bell tolled dismally. School children, cowed by the cold mist, pattered by in a solemn little flock. Through the obscurity heaved a larger blur,—Joyce, their teacher, herding them.
The captain's vacant answer to her hail, his apathy as they walked on together, made Joyce linger at the gate to ask:—
"How is Mrs. Christy to-day?"
"Better, thank ye. 'Pears to be all right now, for some little time. Thank ye. Up and about, ye know."
"That's good," said Joyce. After a pause she asked: "Oh, captain, is it true, what they tell me, that you 're going to sell the schooner?" Her tone and aspect were of the utmost innocence.
"Hev sold it," he replied curtly. As she had hoped, he caught no drift between her two questions; but the cloud that settled over the kind old face made her repent of the strategy. "She went out this mornin's ebb," he continued. "Got a fair price, though."
