One morning, very early, I heard Mrs. Todd in the garden outside my window. By the unusual loudness of her remarks to a passer-by, and the notes of a familiar hymn which she sang as she worked among the herbs, and which came as if directed purposely to the sleepy ears of my consciousness, I knew that she wished I would wake up and come and speak to her. In a few minutes she responded to a morning voice from behind the blinds. “I expect you’re goin’ up to your schoolhouse to pass all this pleasant day; yes, I expect you’re goin’ to be dreadful busy,” she said despairingly. “Perhaps not,” said I. “Why, what’s going to be the matter with you, Mrs. Todd?” For I supposed that she was tempted by the fine weather to take one of her favorite expeditions along the shore pastures to gather herbs and simples, and would like to have me keep the house. “No, I don’t want to go nowhere by land,” she answered gayly,—“no, not by land; but I don’t know’s we shall have a better day all the rest of the summer to go out to Green Island an’ see mother. I waked up early thinkin’ of her. The wind’s light northeast,—’twill take us right straight out; an’ this time o’ year it’s liable to change round southwest an’ fetch us home pretty, ’long late in the afternoon. Yes, it’s goin’ to be a good day.” “Speak to the captain and the Bowden boy, if you see anybody going by toward the landing,” said I. “We’ll take the big boat.” “Oh, my sakes! now you let me do things my way,” said Mrs. Todd scornfully. “No, dear, we won’t take no big bo’t. I’ll just git a handy dory, an’ Johnny Bowden an’ me, we’ll man her ourselves. I don’t want no abler bo’t than a good dory, an’ a nice light breeze ain’t goin’ to make no sea; an’ Johnny’s my cousin’s son,—mother’ll like to have him come; an’ he’ll be down to the herrin’ weirs all the time we’re there, anyway; we don’t want to carry no men folks havin’ to be considered every minute an’ takin’ up all our time. No, you let me do; we’ll just slip out an’ see mother by ourselves. I guess what breakfast you’ll want’s about ready now.” I had become well acquainted with Mrs. Todd as landlady, herb-gatherer, and rustic philosopher; we had been discreet fellow-passengers once or twice when I had sailed up the coast to a larger town than Dunnet Landing to do some shopping; but I was yet to become acquainted with her as a mariner. An hour later we pushed off from the landing in the desired dory. The tide was just on the turn, beginning to fall, and several friends and acquaintances stood along the side of the dilapidated wharf and cheered us by their words and evident interest. Johnny Bowden and I were both rowing in haste to get out where we could catch the breeze and put up the small sail which lay clumsily furled along the gunwale. Mrs. Todd sat aft, a stern and unbending lawgiver. “You better let her drift; we’ll get there ’bout as quick; the tide’ll take her right out from under these old buildin’s; there’s plenty wind outside.”