O Vesty!--the call of the "whistlers" down in the meadow by the sea-wall--"love! love! love!" No other note; it is that, too, breathing in the swift Bails and bounding the sea! "You sail your boat as well as ever, Captain Notely." "And why not--wife?" These were the appellations of the old days, taken from their elders--"cap'n" and "wife." Vesty did not think he would have dared _that_. Her dark eye chastised him. But he was not looking impudent; he was resolute and pale. Vesty shivered. With all her earnest, sad experience of life, with her true love for Notely, she was yet in no haste to be bound. Wild, too, at heart; or else somehow the sea wind and the swift sails had freed her. "Don't say that again. Come, catch the fish for our dinner, Note." "I'm only a humble Basin, Miss Kirtland. I didn't think to fetch no bait." Vesty took a parcel of six small herrings from her pocket, laughing. "Yes, our women are smart," sighed Notely. "Shall you catch, or will I?" "You," said Notely, tossing out the anchor. He watched her, strong and beautiful, her lips pursed with the feline pursuit of prey, as she baited her hook and threw out the line, quite oblivious now, apparently, of him. He saw her thrill with excitement as the line stiffened and she began to haul in, hand over hand; it was a big cod too. Vesty always had the luck. There was glory in her cheeks when she brought the struggling, flopping fish over into the boat. "Vesty," said Note mischievously, drawing near, "how would _you_ feel to be caught like that on the end of somebody's line--struggling, flopping?" His sentimental tone gave way in spite of himself. She turned and gave him a smart box on the ear. "Very well, Miss Vesty Kirtland, very well. But there 's a marriage ceremony and a binding to 'love, honor and obey,' after which young women don't box their husbands' ears--aha!--at least, mine won't." "Notely Garrison," said Vesty, with Basinly and womanly indignation, "I never fished for you in all my life--never!" "Instinctive, darling; not your fault. Unconscious cerebration; do you understand?" She did, a little, and she grievously disapproved of him. "Kiss me, dearest," he pleaded. "You kissed me once, when I first came home." "All the m-more reason why you ought not to ask me now. I w-wish you'd get your m-mind on something besides me." Notely walked away, pulled up the anchor, and set sail again. Vesty composed herself at the end of the boat. "Sweet-tempered child!" said he, regarding her from the helm. She dipped her hand in the water and smoothed her stray locks; they curled up again. She was distressed, and Notely's mirthful eyes gave her no rest. "My mind is still on you, Vesty--and will be for ever and aye, sweetheart." With that he turned kindly and looked away, and Vesty bound up her hair. Presently: "The tapestries are beautiful to-day, Note," she said.