curious admiration for them.
“She’s powerful fond o’ such loike bits o’ things–posies an’ such loike,” he said. “Thems some as I planted to please her on th’ very day as we were wed. I’ll tak’ one or two. She’s main fond on ’em–fur such a hard un.”
And when he went out he held in his hand two or three slender stems hung with the tiny pretty humble bells.
He had these very bits of simple blossoms in his hand when he went down to where the Mary Anne lay on the beach for repairs. So his fellow-workmen said when they told the story afterwards, remembering even this trivial incident.
He was in a strange frame of mind, too, they noticed, silent and heavy and absent. He did not work well, but lagged over his labor, stopping every now and then to pass the back of his hand over his brow as if to rouse himself.
“Yo’ look as if yo’ an’ th’ missus had had a fallin’ out an’ yo’n getten th’ worst o’ th’ bargain,” one of his comrades said by way of rough jest.
They were fond of jo
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