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Is there any need of his remaining here to putter over lobster traps and drive a wagon, rain or shine? He is getting too old for that, anyway. Why not build a home for them in Boston, or better still, share ours there?" It was the first suggestion of what was nearest his heart, and a flush came over Telly's face. "We haven't a home there yet," she answered, turning her face away.
Only a little way out the ground swells were breaking upon a long narrow reef, and as it caught his eye there came to him the memory of the pictured wreck he had noticed in Uncle Terry's sitting-room that morning, and Telly's evident wish to avoid all questions regarding it.
That Telly's heart was very tender toward him he felt sure, and what is more, that in time he would overcome her one objection. "Come out on the point, dear," he said as she tried to draw herself away, "so we can see the ocean better. I will tell you the story I promised last evening."
The ice was broken now, and Telly's shyness was almost gone. "Father told me about finding you," she said, "and that you were turned around. You must have had a hard tramp, for it's all of two miles from where you were to this cove, and an awful tangle all the way, he said." "I was decidedly turned when he came to my rescue," Albert replied, "and the sun seemed to be setting in the east.
"Supper 'most ready, Lissy?" he asked, eyeing a pot on the stove that gave out an appetizing odor. "I'm hungry 'nough to eat a mule with the harness on!" "'Twill be in a minit," was the reply. "Better go into t'other room where Telly's settin' the table." Uncle Terry obeyed, and, finding a bright fire burning there, stood back to it, smiling affectionately at a young girl busy beside the table.
Once inside, she was met with a sight that made her more angry than ever. There, on either side of the platform which held Telly captive, were the two huge jungle-cats. The Cowardly Lion was trying in vain to unshackle Telly's chains. The Hungry Tiger, who had been standing guard, saw the enemy and instantly prepared to spring on her.
Then, realizing that she had actually said something polite, she added, "You bizarre jumble of soup cans and gigabytes." She saw that Graham had made no move to obtain a mirror, so she pushed him over again. "Okay, slime-twirp. I'll get my own mirror!" She switched off Telly's picture in order to catch her reflection in the blank screen.
Then the red-faced man started the singing, a little below the key, and the congregation followed. To Albert's surprise, Telly's voice, clear and distinct, at his side joined with the rest. A long prayer, full of halting repetitions, by the man at the desk, followed, and then another hymn, and after that came a painful pause.
When he retired it was long after he heard the clock downstairs strike the midnight hour before he failed to note the ocean's voice beneath his window, and in his dreams he saw Telly's face smiling in the firelight. "I'm goin' to give ye a taste o' mackerel fishin'," said Uncle Terry the next morning after breakfast.
The rest of the services were of little interest to him, except the fact that Telly's voice at his side, now a little bolder than at first, led the gospel hymns that followed. Old and time-worn they were, and yet rendered with a zest of feeling reflected, maybe, from the plaintive prayer of this old lady.
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