"Well, what do you suppose? Ain't he got t' get back by sundown? 'T would be a pretty pass if he'd come off at sundown." "But he's been off all day, likely as not!" Janet's lip quivered. "Well, s'pose he has. Are you goin' t' be one of them tormentin' women who is always naggin' a man about what he's doin' an' what he ain't a-doin'? Where's David?" "He's gone up into the Light, Susan Jane." The woman turned anxiously toward the window. "It's an awful storm risin', Janet. Wind off sea, but changin' every minute. Draw the shade. I'm fearin' the ocean will rise high enough fur us t' see the breakers over the dunes! I ain't seen the ocean fur thirty odd years, an' I ain't goin' t' now!" Her voice rose hysterically, like a frightened child's. "I jest won't see the ocean!" Janet pulled the green shade down, and hid from her own aching eyes the vanishing sight of Billy's struggling boat, but her loving heart went with it as, spurning the wind and darkness, it made for the dunes and duty! "All day!" the girl thought; "all day, and not to let me know! Oh, Cap'n Daddy, what mischief have you been up to?" The quivering smile rose over the hurt, but anxiety lay deep in the troubled heart. A crash of thunder rent the air! A blinding flash of lightning turned the black bay to a molten sea. Janet could see it through the glass of the outer door in the entry. "Janet!" "Yes, Susan Jane." "Come away from the draught! I think you might know, how if you got struck by lightnin' I couldn't do a blessed thing but look at you." Janet came into the darkened room. "Light the lamp!" Susan commanded. "I ain't goin' t' save oil, when I'm in this state. Oh! Janet,"--a splintering crash shook the house,--"did you ever hear the like?" "It's pretty bad, Susan Jane!" But the girl was thinking of the little boat struggling on the bay, the strong hand upon the tiller, and the faithful heart, fearless in the midst of danger. "Janet, since you ain't got no nerves, can you read t' me an' sort o' drown the storm? I'm powerful shaken. I can't run if the house is struck; I can't do nothin' but jest suffer." The woman was crying miserably. "I'll read to you, Susan Jane; and the storm's passing. I can count now." "How many? How many, Janet?" A blinding flash showed around the green curtain's edge and dimmed the light of the kerosene lamp. "One--two." The awful crash stilled the word. "'T ain't fur enough off, Janet, to trust any! Oh! God help me! If I could only put my hands over my ears!" But the poor, helpless hands lay white and shrivelled in the woman's lap. "Here, Susan Jane. Shut your eyes tight and lean your head upon my shoulder. There! Now when I see the flash I will cover your ears. That will help."