"But ye'd be mad, jest the same." Davy was watching the flashing face uneasily. The gossip that had drifted to him had but strengthened his love and care for Billy's girl. He was a hardy support now, protecting this free nature from outer harm and inward hurt. "No, no, Janet! Don't hanker arter the ocean nor the desert till ye know how t' handle yerself. Oceans an' deserts ain't no jokes fur greenhorns. I heard Mark say the bay was froze over. That don't happen often, so early as this." "I'm going to get my ice boat out to-morrow, Davy. Life on an ice boat is life! A sailboat is not bad with a good wind, but you always have to take the _water_ into your reckoning then. But the ice--ah! There is nothing there but you and the wind to consider!" "An' holes!" Davy added. "You're just an old pessimist, Davy." Janet laughed. "Like as not!" Davy agreed. He hadn't an idea what a pessimist was, but he never wasted time inquiring as to the labels others attached to him. * * * * * That night, winter, in its grimmest sense, settled upon Quinton. The bay became a glistening roadway between the mainland and the dunes. Children on skates or in ice boats filled the short, cold days with laughter and fun. Sleighing parties flashed hither and yonder with never a fear of a crack or hole; and beyond the dunes the life crew kept a keener watch upon the outer bar. Chunky ice formed near shore, and the tides bore it inward and left it high upon the beach. Day by day it grew in height like a shining, curving line of alabaster, showing where the high-water mark had been. And upon a certain threatening day, John Thomas came off and stopped at the Light to have a word with Davy. "He didn't want me t' say anythin' t' ye, but it don't settle on my mind as jest right not t'. Billy's had a spell!" Davy pulled up his trousers; with him a sure sign of deep emotion. "What kind?" he asked. "Sort o' peterin' out. He was peelin' taters in the Station, when all of a suddint he sot down kinder forcible on a chair, dropped the knife an' tater, an' looked at me as if I'd done somethin' t' him. I ran crost t' him an' stood by, so t' speak. Then he kinder laughed an' said, distant an' thick, 'That was comical! I felt like my works had run down!' Billy ain't what he once was." Davy set his lips in a grim line. "He ought t' have a lighter job!" he muttered. "How is he now?" "Oh! he's come round. But spells is spells an' yer got t' look out. Don't tell Janet; Billy was sot agin that, somethin' fierce." "I don't know as Billy should want t' shield her more'n common sense p'ints. I feel she ought t' know. 'T ain't pleasant t' get a knock in the back of yer head; an' that's what Janet's goin' t' get some day about Billy." "He says she knows enough; an' he ain't goin' t' have her pestered."