He fancied, indeed, that he beheld a figure spring upon the starling at the moment when the boats came in contact; but, as he could perceive no one near him, he concluded he must have been mistaken. At the same time,” she added, in a suddenly altered tone, “it isn’t anything whatever to do with you, is it?” “Why not?” he answered. “I knew,” she said, in a low despairing tone, “that people would talk. A granddaughter of mine!’ The idiocy of this notion stuck in his craw and he could think of nothing else for a moment. It had been very peaceful in the little cave for countless years. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin.
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