“Oh, I don't mean that. I meant what I was thinking was extraordinary. Or not precisely that, either. I--ah--I mean--well, you see, when I was in Washington--at the Institute, you know--it used to annoy me--ah--extremely, to have any one sing or whistle in my vicinity. Really, it did. I sometimes spoke very sharply--ah--irritably to any one who did that. And now, as I stood here and heard you singing, Miss Martha, it suddenly came over me that I do not mind it at all. I--ah--actually like to hear you. I do, very much, indeed. Now, isn't that extraordinary!” Martha laughed aloud. “Why, yes,” she declared; “I think it is. Anybody likin' to hear me sing is about as extraordinary as anything that ever was, I guess. Mr. Bangs, you're awfully funny.” Galusha nodded. “Yes,” he said, “I am sure I must be. I think if I were any one else I should laugh at myself a great deal. I mean--ah--I mean in that case I should laugh, not at myself, but at me. Good gracious, I haven't made that very clear, have I?” His smile was so contagious that she laughed again. “I didn't mean you were funny to laugh at, but to laugh with,” she said. “You're goin' to have an especially nice walk this mornin'. It's such a lovely forenoon I almost wish I was goin' with you.” Galusha beamed. “Why--why, so do I!” he exclaimed, in delighted surprise. “Yes, I do, I do, indeed! Ah--ah--why don't you?” “Mercy me, I couldn't think of it! I must stay here and get to cookin' or we'll have no puddin' to-morrow noon. I'll be with you in spirit, as the books say; how will that do?” Whether or not she was with him in spirit, she was very much in her lodger's thoughts as he walked down the path to the gate. It was such a beautiful forenoon, with the first promise of spring in the air, that, instead of starting toward the village, as was his usual custom, he turned in the other direction and strolled toward the lighthouse. The sea view from the cliff edge should be magnificent on a morning like this.