"So he've put that in again? There's what you might call a sameness about Benny, though he _do_ write different to anybody else." "And here are more dates, and an epitaph from one of the tombstones in the churchyard! Indeed, Mr."-- "Salt. Tobias Salt--_and_ by natur'." "Indeed, Mr. Salt, I can't write a letter like this. To begin with, I haven't the knowledge." "The Lord forbid!" "But I suppose your wife likes to read about these things?" "She can't read a word, bless you. She gets the parson to spell it out to her, or the seamen's missionary. Yarmouth our home is." "She likes to hear about them, then?" "What? Sarah? Lord love ye, miss, you should see the woman!" Mr. Salt chuckled heavily, and wound up by sending a squirt of tobacco-juice out into darkness. "Mother of eight children, she is, and makes 'em toe the mark at school and Sunday school. A woman like that don't bother about grey old walls." "You are proud of her, I see." "Ought to be, I reckon. Why, to-day she can pick up two three-gallon pitchers o' water and heft 'em along for a mile and more without turning a hair." "And the children? How old are they?" "Eldest just turned eleven." "Why, then he must be able to read?" "'Tisn't a he, 'tis a her. Ay, I reckon 'Melia Jane should read well before this." Hester took a fresh sheet of paper and began to write. "Listen to this, please," she said after a few sentences, "and tell me if it will do--" "Dear Wife,--This comes hoping to find you in health, as it leaves me at present, and the children hearty. I am sending this from Troy, and I daresay you will take it to some friend to read; but tell Amelia Jane, with my love, that in future she shall read her father's letters to you. She must be getting a scholar by this time; and if there's anything she can't explain, why you can take it to a friend afterwards. We reached this port last Tuesday (the 14th) after a good passage--" "Now tell me about your passage, please." At first Mr. Salt could only tell her that the passage had been a good one, as passages go. But by feeding him with a suggestion or two, as men feed a pump with a little water to make it work, by and by she found herself listening to information in a flood. Now and then she interposed a question, asking mainly about his wife and the home at Yarmouth. She had picked up her pen again, and he, absorbed in his confidences, did not perceive at what a rate she was making it travel over the paper. The door opened, and Mr. Benny reappeared with a shawl on his arm. He glanced around nervously. "Mr. Salt, Mr. Salt! I put it to you, this isn't quite fair. A fine talk I can hear you're having; but our friends outside are getting impatient, and want to know when you'll let Miss Marvin begin." "All right, boss. I've had a yarn here that's worth all the money. Here's your shilling for it, and the letter can stand over till to-morrow."