"No. I ain't never had time, above my duties, to do more'n sleep an' eat," David replied. "But I've got time now t' stand up fur that girl yonder, if any consarned gossip takes t' handlin' her name lightly. That girl's put in my care by Billy, an' Billy an' me have stood by each other through many a gale. An' now, Mark Tapkins, I'd like t' hear what ye've got t' say out plain an' unvarnished. I don't want no gibin'. I only got one way o' hearin' an' talkin'." Mark drew back from the calm, lowering face of the keeper. "Nation!" he gasped, "you don't think I'm agin her, do you, Davy?" "I ain't carin' whether ye be or no. Like as not, if she's shook ye, yer full of resentment. Them is young folks' ways. But fur or agin her, if ye can harbor scandal about Billy's Janet, ye've got t' share it with me what knows how t' strangle it fust an' last. Spit it out now!" Mark drew himself together with a mighty effort. Recent events were wearing upon his vitality. "They say, Janet is mixed up 'long with a feller what painted her, over on the Hills!" he spoke as guiltily as though he alone were responsible for the report. "Who says so?" Davy's bushy eyebrows almost hid his kindly eyes. "Well, Mrs. Jo G. fur one!" "Ye can't knock a woman down. Ain't there some one else that I kin begin on?" "Well, it's kind o' common talk. Floatin' round like eelgrass up the creek. I s'pose it's sunk int' some kind of bottom of fact, as t' who started the rumor, but it's jest slippin' around now, on top." "'T is, hey? Well, 't ain't the fust time I've clutched eelgrass an' tore it from its muddy bottom. That gal," Davy pointed a trembling finger dune-ward, where the _Comrade_ was bobbing over the roughening water,--"that gal ain't goin' t' be soiled by any slime if I know it. She b'longs t' Billy an' me, an' by thunder! we can sail her bark fur her when her little hand grows tired on the tiller!" Mark was wiping his eyes. Davy had made him feel himself a blackguard, but he could not see just where he had erred. Davy, however, took small heed of Mark. "I'm goin' down t' get dinner!" he said suddenly, "an' I ain't goin' t' foller, 'cause she's goin' t' Billy an' there ain't no call I should inflict myself on 'em. But I'm goin' visitin' in the village this afternoon,"--he nodded ominously,--"I'm goin' t' pay up some o' my funeral calls. I hope I ain't goin' t' cause any more funerals, but it all depends on how bad the disease is!" Mark's inclination was to hold Davy back from his march of devastation, but he felt his impotence.