"Never!" he repeated. "'Lard,' she'd say, 'I loves un all the more for
their sins. Leave me wait--oh, leave me wait--here at the gate.
Maybe--sometime--they'll come!'"
"But some," said I, in awe, "would wait forever--an' ever--an' ever----"
"Not one!"
"Not one?"
"Not one! 'Twould break the dear Lard's heart t' see un waitin' there."
I looked away to the furthest clouds, fast changing, now, from gray to
silver; and for a long time I watched them thin and brighten.
"Skipper Tommy," I asked, at last, "is _my_ mother at the gate?"
"Ay," said he confidently.
"Waitin'?"
"Ay."
"An' for me?"
He gave me an odd look--searching my very soul with his mild old eyes.
"Doesn't you think she is?" he asked.
"I knows it!" I cried.
* * * * *
Far off, at the horizon, the sky broke--and the rift broadened--and the
clouds lifted--and the east flamed with colour--and all at once the
rosy, hopeful light of dawn flushed the frowning sea.
"Look!" the skipper whispered.
"Ay," said I, "the day is broke."
"A new day!" said he.