After this I had no further intercourse with the fisherman for some days.
If I chanced to meet him in the lane, Rebecca was always with me. He came
one evening to the Ark. The young people were there, singing.
Then I heard, from time to time, of his taking Rebecca to drive, and
congratulated myself that, through my composed wisdom and forethought,
the little world of Wallencamp was destined to move very smoothly, on the
whole.
"I wonder why Mr. Rollin don't go home," observed Grandma Keeler,
complacently, on one of those rare occasions when the Keeler family
circle held quiet possession of the Ark before the songful company had
arrived. "He didn't use to stay but a week or two at a time, and all the
rest o' the fishermen have been gone some time now; and he keeps them
horses down here, and goes loungin' around with no more object than a
butterfly in December."
"I tell ye he's a makin' up to Beck," said Grandpa Keeler, with the
knowing air of an old man accustomed to fathom mysteries of this peculiar
nature.
A spark shot out of Madeline's great, black eyes. Then she laughed
unpleasantly. "There's something in the wind besides Beck," said she.
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