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Updated: June 24, 2025
The old gray heads, whose possessors occupied that village-throne of wisdom, the jackknife-carved bench by Silas Trefethen's stove, prophesied "a spell of weather." "Storm brewin'! I feel it in my bones," declared Simes Badger, squinting at the vane on Aunt Stanshy's barn and then at the gray, scowling clouds above. The wind was from the "nor'-east."
"When you see a man shoving a lighted pipe into sich a place." said Simes Badger to the gossippy circle at Silas Trefethen's store that night, "send in a bucket of water after him." "What for? to put out the fire, or to wash him?" asked a hearer. "Both," said Simes, "one to protect the place and the other to purify him."
Overhead there was a mass of gray cloud halting directly above the town, and looking too lazy ever to stir again. "Storm comin'!" declared Simes Badger to all his cronies at Silas Trefethen's store. "Wind is sou' already."
It was Aunt Stanshy, who, from her window, had watched the boys, and, seeing the approach of that down-town thunder-cloud, rushed out to meet the storm. Her prowess was witnessed by Simes Badger, who, as a leading village gossip, was loafing away an hour of leisure in a flag-bottomed chair before Silas Trefethen's grocery.
The Up-the-Ladder Club did the tide the honor of making it a call in a body, and from the rear of Silas Trefethen's store watched the swollen current beyond the yard. "Let's go down to the beach and see the waves to-morrow. It's Saturday, you know, and the waves pile up tremendous in a storm. Who's for it!" inquired Sid Waters. There was not a White Shield present who was unwilling to go.
It was that sweet old lady, Dame Jocelyn, who told me the story of Silas Trefethen; for these things happened long before my day. Silas died in 1817. At Trefethen's death his unique collection came under the auctioneer's hammer.
The tide, too, was unusually high. It rolled over the wharves, swept up the shipyards, and even ventured into the yard back of Silas Trefethen's store, floating away a hencoop with its squawking tenants. "It beats all!" said Simes Badger. "The oldest person round here never saw such a tide."
Aunt Stanshy quickened her steps into a run. "There goes Stanshy," said Simes Badger, watching her from Silas Trefethen's grocery. "Runnin' t' a fire, I guess. She only needs an engine behind her t' make the thing complete." Flying through the yard, Aunt Stanshy rushed up the barn chamber stairs. Passing the "sentinel" with the powerful aid of a cent, she looked around upon the chamber.
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