"Close the door, Dannie," says Tumm, in the little cabin of the _Quick
as Wink_, late that night, when the goods were put to rights, and the
bottle was on the counter, and the schooner was nodding sleepily in
the spent waves from the open sea. "This here yarn o' the weddin' o'
Moses Shoos is not good for everybody t' hear." He filled the
glasses--chuckling all the time deep in his chest. "We was reachin' up
t' Whoopin' Harbor," he began, being a great hand at a story, "t' give
the _Quick as Wink_ a night's lodgin', it bein' a wonderful windish
night; clear enough, the moon sailin' a cloudy sky, but with a bank o'
fog sneakin' round Cape Muggy like a fish-thief. An' we wasn't in no
haste, anyhow, t' make Sinners' Tickle, for we was the first trader
down this season, an' 'twas pick an' choose for we, with a clean bill
t' every harbor from Starvation Cove t' the Settin' Hen. So the
skipper he says we'll hang the ol' girl up t' Whoopin' Harbor 'til
dawn; an' we'll all have a watch below, says he, with a cup o' tea,
says he, if the cook can bile the water 'ithout burnin' it. Now, look
you! Saucy Bill North is wonderful fond of his little joke; an' 'twas
this here habit o' burnin' the water he'd pitched on t' plague the
poor cook with, since we put out o' Twist Tickle on the v'y'ge down.
"'Cook, you dunderhead!' says the skipper, with a wink t' the crew,
which I was sorry t' see, 'you been an' scarched the water agin.'
"Shoos he looked like he'd give up for good on the spot--just like he
_knowed_ he was a fool, an' _had_ knowed it for a long, long
time--sort o' like he was sorry for we an' sick of hisself.
"'Cook,' says the skipper, 'you went an' done it agin. Yes, you did!
Don't you go denyin' of it. You'll kill us, cook,' says he, 'if you
goes on like this. They isn't nothin' worse for the system,' says he,
'than this here burned water. The almanacs,' says he, shakin' his
finger at the poor cook, ''ll tell you _that!_'
"'I 'low I did burn that water, skipper,' says the cook, 'if you says
so. But I isn't got all my wits,' says he; 'an' God knows I'm doin' my
best!'
"'I always did allow, cook,' says the skipper, 'that God knowed more'n
I ever thunk.'
"'An' I never _did_ burn no water,' says the cook, 'afore I shipped
along o' you in this here ol' flour-sieve of a _Quick as Wink._'
"'This here _what?_' snaps the skipper.
"'This here ol' basket,' says the cook.
"'Basket!' says the skipper. Then he hummed a bit o' 'Fishin' for the
Maid I Loves,' 'ithout thinkin' much about the toon. 'Cook,' says he
'I loves you. You is on'y a half-witted chance-child,' says he, 'but
I loves you like a brother.'
"'Does you, skipper?' says the cook, with a nice, soft little smile,
like the poor fool he was. 'I isn't by no means hatin' you, skipper,'
says he. 'But I can't _help_ burnin' the water,' says he, 'an' I 'low
it fair hurts me t' get blame for it. I'm sorry for you an' the crew,'
says he, 'an' I wisht I hadn't took the berth. But when I shipped
along o' you,' says he, 'I 'lowed I _could_ cook, for mother always
told me so, an' I 'lowed she knowed. I'm doin' my best, anyhow,
accordin' t' how she'd have me do, an' I 'low if the water gets
scarched,' says he, 'the galley fire's bewitched.'
"'Basket!' says the skipper. 'Ay, ay, cook,' says he. 'I just _loves_
you.'
"They wasn't a man o' the crew liked t' hear the skipper say that;
for, look you! the skipper doesn't know nothin' about feelin's, an'
the cook has more feelin's 'n a fool can make handy use of aboard a
tradin' craft. There sits the ol' man, smoothin' his big, red beard,
singin' 'I'm Fishin' for the Maid I Loves,' while he looks at poor
Moses Shoos, which was washin' up the dishes, for we was through with
the mug-up. An' the devil was in his eyes--the devil was fair grinnin'
in them little blue eyes. Lord! it made me sad t' see it, for I knowed
the cook was in for bad weather, an' he isn't no sort o' craft t' be
out o' harbor in a gale o' wind like that.
"'Cook,' says the skipper.
"'Ay, sir?' says the cook.
"'Cook,' says the skipper, 'you ought t' get married.'
"'I on'y wisht I could,' says the cook.
"'You ought t' try, cook,' says the skipper, 'for the sake o' the
crew. We'll all die,' says he, 'afore we sights ol' Bully Dick agin,'
says he, 'if you keeps on burnin' the water. You _got_ t' get married,
cook, t' the first likely maid you sees on the Labrador,' says he, 't'
save the crew. She'd do the cookin' for you. It'll be the loss o' all
hands,' says he, 'an you don't. This here burned water,' says he,
'will be the end of us, cook, an you keeps it up.'
"'I'd be wonderful glad t' 'blige you, skipper,' says the cook, 'an'
I'd like t' 'blige all hands. 'Twon't be by my wish,' says he, 'that
anybody'll die o' the grub they gets, for mother wouldn't like it.'
"'Cook,' says the skipper, 'shake! I knows a _man,_' says he, 'when I
sees one. Any man,' says he, 'that would put on the irons o'
matrimony,' says he, 't' 'blige a shipmate,' says he, 'is a better man
'n me, an' I loves un like a brother.'
"The cook was cheered up considerable.
"'Cook,' says the skipper, 'I 'pologize. Yes, I do, cook,' says he, 'I
'pologize.'
"'I isn't got no feelin' ag'in' matrimony,' says the cook. 'But I
isn't able t' get took. I been tryin' every maid t' Twist Tickle,'
says he, 'an' they isn't one,' says he, 'will wed a fool.'
"'Not _one_ maid t' wed a fool!' says the skipper.
"'Nar a one,' says the cook.
"'I'm s'prised,' says the skipper.
"'Nar a maid t' Twist Tickle,' says the cook, 'will wed a fool, an' I
'low they isn't one,' says he, 'on the Labrador.'
"'It's been done afore, cook,' says the skipper, 'an' I 'low 'twill be
done agin, if the world don't come to an end t' oncet. Cook,' says he,
'I _knows_ the maid t' do it.'
"'I'd be wonderful glad t' find _she_,' says the cook. 'Mother,' says
he, 'always 'lowed a man didn't ought t' live alone.'
"'Ay, b'y,' says the skipper, 'I got the girl for _you_. An' she isn't
a thousand miles,' says he, 'from where that ol' basket of a _Quick as
Wink_ lies at anchor,' says he, 'in Whoopin' Harbor. She isn't what
you'd call handsome an' tell no lie,' says he, 'but--'
"'Never you mind about that, skipper,' says the cook.
"'No,' says the skipper, 'she isn't handsome, as handsome goes, even
in these parts, but--'
"'Never you mind, skipper,' says the cook: 'for mother always 'lowed
that looks come off in the first washin'.'
"'I 'low that Liz Jones would take you, cook,' says the skipper. 'You
ain't much on wits, but you got a good-lookin' figure-head; an' I 'low
she'd be more'n willin' t' skipper a craft like you. You better go
ashore, cook, when you gets cleaned up, an' see what she says. Tumm,'
says he, 'is sort o' shipmates with Liz,' says he, 'an' I 'low he'll
see you through the worst of it.'
"'Will you, Tumm?' says the cook.
"'Well,' says I, 'I'll see.'
"I knowed Liz Jones from the time I fished Whoopin' Harbor with
Skipper Bill Topsail in the _Love the Wind_, bein' cotched by the
measles thereabouts, which she nursed me through; an' I 'lowed she
_would_ wed the cook if he asked her, so, thinks I, I'll go ashore
with the fool t' see that she don't. No; she isn't handsome--not Liz.
I'm wonderful fond o' yarnin' o' good-lookin' maids, as you knows,
Skipper Nicholas, sir; but I can't say much o' Liz: for Liz is so far
t' l'eward o' beauty that many a time, lyin' sick there in the
fo'c's'le o' the _Love the Wind_, I wished the poor girl would turn
inside out, for, thinks I, the pattern might be a sight better on the
other side. I _will_ say she is big and well-muscled; an' muscles, t'
my mind, counts enough t' make up for black eyes, but not for
cross-eyes, much less for fuzzy whiskers. It ain't in my heart t' make
sport o' Liz; but I _will_ say she has a bad foot, for she was born in
a gale, I'm told, when the _Preacher_ was hangin' on off a lee shore
'long about Cape Harrigan, an' the sea was raisin' the devil. An',
well--I hates t' say it, but--well, they call her 'Walrus Liz.' No;
she isn't handsome, she haven't got no good looks; but once you gets a
look into whichever one o' them cross-eyes you is able to cotch, you
see a deal more'n your own face; an' she _is_ well-muscled, an' I 'low
I'm goin' t' tell you so, for I wants t' name her good p'ints so well
as her bad. Whatever--
"'Cook,' says I, 'I'll go along o' you.'
"With that Moses Shoos fell to on the dishes, an' 'twasn't long afore
he was ready to clean hisself; which done, he was ready for the
courtin'. But first he got out his dunny-bag, an' he fished in there
'til he pulled out a blue stockin', tied in a hard knot; an' from the
toe o' that there blue stockin' he took a brass ring. 'I 'low,' says
he, talkin' to hisself, in the half-witted way he has, 'it won't do no
hurt t' give her mother's ring. "Moses," says mother, "you better take
the ring off my finger. It isn't no weddin'-ring," says she, "for I
never was what you might call wed by a real parson in the fashionable
way, but on'y accordin' t' the customs o' the land," says she, "an' I
got it from the Jew t' make believe I was wed in the way they does it
in these days; for it didn't do nobody no hurt, an' it sort o' pleased
me. You better take it, Moses, b'y," says she, "for the dirt o' the
grave would only spile it," says she, "an' I'm not wantin' it no more.
Don't wear it at the fishin', dear," says she, "for the fishin' is
wonderful hard," says she, "an' joolery don't stand much wear an'
tear." 'Oh, mother!' says the cook, 'I done what you wanted!' Then the
poor fool sighed an' looked up at the skipper. 'I 'low, skipper,' says
he, ''twouldn't do no hurt t' give the ring to a man's wife, would it?
For mother wouldn't mind, would she?'
"The skipper didn't answer that.
"'Come, cook,' says I, 'leave us get under way,' for I couldn't stand
it no longer.
"So the cook an' me put out in the punt t' land at Whoopin' Harbor,
with the crew wishin' the poor cook well with their lips, but
thinkin', God knows what! in their hearts. An' he was in a wonderful
state o' fright. I never _seed_ a man so took by scare afore. For,
look you! poor Moses thinks she might have un. 'I never had half a
chance afore,' says he. 'They've all declined in a wonderful regular
way. But now,' says he, 'I 'low I'll be took. I jus' _feels_ that way;
an', Tumm, I--I--I'm scared!' I cheered un up so well as I could; an'
by-an'-by we was on the path t' Liz Jones's house, up on Gray Hill,
where she lived alone, her mother bein' dead an' her father shipped on
a bark from St. John's t' the West Indies. An' we found Liz sittin' on
a rock at the turn o' the road, lookin' down from the hill at the
_Quick as Wink_; all alone--sittin' there in the moonlight, all
alone--thinkin' o' God knows what!
"'Hello, Liz!' says I.
"'Hello, Tumm!' says she. 'What vethel'th that?'
"'That's the _Quick as Wink_, Liz,' says I. 'An' here's the cook o'
that there craft,' says I, 'come up the hill t' speak t' you.'
"'That's right,' says the cook. 'Tumm, you're right.'
"'T' thpeak t' _me_!' says she.
"I wisht she hadn't spoke quite that way. Lord! it wasn't nice. It
makes a man feel bad t' see a woman put her hand on her heart for a
little thing like that.
"'Ay, Liz,' says I, 't' speak t' you. An' I'm thinkin', Liz,' says I,
'he'll say things no man ever said afore--t' you.'
"'That's right, Tumm,' says the cook. 'I wants t' speak as man t'
man,' says he, 't' stand by what I says,' says he, 'accordin' as
mother would have me do!'
"Liz got off the rock. Then she begun t' kick at the path; an' she was
lookin' down, but I 'lowed she had an eye on Moses all the time.
'For,' thinks I, 'she's sensed the thing out, like all the women.'
"'I'm thinkin',' says I, 'I'll go up the road a bit.'
"'Oh no, you won't, Tumm,' says she. 'You thtay right here. Whath the
cook wantin' o' me?'
"'Well,' says the cook, 'I 'low I wants t' get married.'
"'T' get married!' says she.
"'T' get married,' says the cook, 'accordin' as mother would have me;
an' I 'low you'll do.'
"'Me?' says she.
"'Liz,' says he, as solemn as church, 'I means you.'
"It come to her all of a suddent--an' she begun t' breathe hard, an'
pressed her hands against her breast an' shivered. But she looked away
t' the moon, an' somehow that righted her.
"'You better thee me in daylight,' says she.
"'Don't you mind about that,' says he. 'Mother always 'lowed that sort
o' thing didn't matter: an' she knowed.'
"She put a finger under his chin an' tipped his face t' the light.
"'You ithn't got all your thentheth, ith you?' says she.
"'Well,' says he, 'bein' born on Hollow-eve,' says he, 'I _isn't_
quite got all my wits. But,' says he, 'I wisht I had. An' I can't do
no more.'
"'An' you wanth t' wed me?' says she. 'Ith you sure you doth?'
"'I got mother's ring,' says the cook, 't' prove it.'
"'Tumm,' says Liz t' me, '_you_ ithn't wantin' t' get married, ith
you?'
"'No, Liz,' says I. 'Not,' says I, 't' you.'
"'No,' says she. 'Not--t' me.' She took me round the turn in the road.
'Tumm,' says she, 'I 'low I'll wed that man. I wanth t' get away from
here,' says she, lookin' over the hills. 'I wanth t' get t' the
thouthern outporth, where there'th life. They ithn't no life here. An'
I'm tho wonderful tired o' all thith! Tumm,' says she, 'no man ever
afore athked me t' marry un, an' I 'low I better take thith one. He'th
on'y a fool,' says she, 'but not even a fool ever come courtin' me,
an' I 'low nobody but a fool would. On'y a fool, Tumm!' says she. 'But
_I_ ithn't got nothin' t' boatht of. God made me,' says she, 'an' I
ithn't mad that He done it. I 'low He meant me t' take the firth man
that come, an' be content. I 'low _I_ ithn't got no right t' thtick up
my nothe at a fool. For, Tumm,' says she, 'God made that fool, too.
An', Tumm,' says she, 'I wanth thomethin' elthe. Oh, I wanth
thomethin' elthe! I hateth t' tell you, Tumm,' says she, 'what it ith.
But all the other maidth hath un, Tumm, an' I wanth one, too. I 'low
they ithn't no woman happy without one, Tumm. An' I ithn't never had
no chanth afore. No chanth, Tumm, though God knowth they ithn't
nothin' I wouldn't do,' says she, 't' get what I wanth! I'll wed the
fool,' says she. 'It ithn't a man I wanth tho much; no, it ithn't a
man. Ith--'
"'What you wantin', Liz?' says I.
"'It ithn't a man, Tumm,' says she.
"'No?' says I. 'What is it, Liz?'
"'Ith a baby,' says she.
"God! I felt bad when she told me that...."
* * * * *
Tumm stopped, sighed, picked at a knot in the table. There was
silence in the cabin. The _Quick as Wink_ was still nodding to the
swell--lying safe at anchor in a cove of Twist Tickle. We heard the
gusts scamper over the deck and shake the rigging; we caught, in
the intervals, the deep-throated roar of breakers, far off--all the
noises of the gale. And Tumm picked at the knot with his clasp-knife;
and we sat watching, silent, all. And I felt bad, too, because of
the maid at Whooping Harbor--a rolling waste of rock, with the
moonlight lying on it, stretching from the whispering mystery of the
sea to the greater desolation beyond; and an uncomely maid, alone and
wistful, wishing, without hope, for that which the hearts of women
must ever desire....
* * * * *
"Ay," Tumm drawled, "it made me feel bad t' think o' what she'd been
wantin' all them years; an' then I wished I'd been kinder t' Liz....
An', 'Tumm,' thinks I, 'you went an' come ashore t' stop this here
thing; but you better let the skipper have his little joke, for 'twill
on'y s'prise him, an' it won't do nobody else no hurt. Here's this
fool,' thinks I, 'wantin' a wife; an' he won't never have another
chance. An' here's this maid,' thinks I, 'wantin' a baby; an' _she_
won't never have another chance. 'Tis plain t' see,' thinks I, 'that
God A'mighty, who made un, crossed their courses; an' I 'low, ecod!'
thinks I, 'that 'twasn't a bad idea He had. If He's got to get out of
it somehow,' thinks I, 'why, _I_ don't know no better way. Tumm,'
thinks I, 'you sheer off. Let Nature,' thinks I, 'have course an' be
glorified.' So I looks Liz in the eye--an' says nothin'.
"'Tumm,' says she, 'doth you think he--'
"'Don't you be scared o' nothin',' says I. 'He's a lad o' good
feelin's,' says I, 'an' he'll treat you the best he knows how. Is you
goin' t' take un?'
"'I wathn't thinkin' o' that,' says she. 'I wathn't thinkin' o' _not_.
I wath jutht,' says she, 'wonderin'.'
"'They isn't no sense in that, Liz,' says I. 'You just wait an' find
out.'
"'What'th hith name?' says she.
"'Shoos,' says I. 'Moses Shoos.'
"With that she up with her pinny an' begun t' cry like a young swile.
"'What you cryin' for, Liz?' says I.
"I 'low I couldn't tell what 'twas all about. But she was like all the
women. Lord! 'tis the little things that makes un weep when it comes
t' the weddin'.
"'Come, Liz,' says I, 'what you cryin' about?'
"'I lithp,' says she.
"'I knows you does, Liz,' says I; 'but it ain't nothin' t' cry
about.'
"'I can't say Joneth,' says she.
"'No,' says I; 'but you'll be changin' your name,' says I, 'an' it
won't matter no more.'
"'An' if I can't say Joneth,' says she, 'I can't thay--'
"'Can't say what?' says I.
"'Can't thay Thooth!' says she.
"Lord! No more she could. An' t' say Moses Shoos! An' t' say Mrs.
Moses Shoos! Lord! It give me a pain in the tongue t' think of it.
"'Jutht my luck,' says she; 'but I'll do my betht.'
"So we went back an' told poor Moses Shoos that he didn't have t'
worry no more about gettin' a wife; an' he said he was more glad than
sorry, an', says he, she'd better get her bonnet, t' go aboard an' get
married right away. An' she 'lowed she didn't want no bonnet, but
_would_ like to change her pinny. So we said we'd as lief wait a
spell, though a clean pinny wasn't _needed_. An' when she got back,
the cook said he 'lowed the skipper could marry un well enough 'til we
overhauled a real parson; an' she thought so, too, for, says she,
'twouldn't be longer than a fortnight, an' _any_ sort of a weddin',
says she, would do 'til then. An' aboard we went, the cook an' me
pullin' the punt, an' she steerin'; an' the cook he crowed an' cackled
all the way, like a half-witted rooster; but the maid didn't even
cluck, for she was too wonderful solemn t' do anything but look at the
moon.
"'Skipper,' said the cook, when we got in the fo'c's'le, 'here she is.
_I_ isn't afeared,' says he, 'an' _she_ isn't afeared; an' now I 'lows
we'll have you marry us.'
"Up jumps the skipper; but he was too much s'prised t' say a word.
"'An' I'm thinkin',' says the cook, with a nasty little wink, such as
never I seed afore get into the eyes o' Moses Shoos, 'that they isn't
a man in this here fo'c's'le,' says he, 'will _say_ I'm afeared.'
"'Cook,' says the skipper, takin' the cook's hand, 'shake! I never
knowed a man like you afore,' says he. 'T' my knowledge, you're the
on'y man in the Labrador fleet would do it. I'm proud,' says he, 't'
take the hand o' the man with nerve enough t' marry Walrus Liz o'
Whoopin' Harbor.'
"But 'twas a new Moses he had t' deal with. The devil got in the
fool's eyes--a jumpin' little brimstone devil, ecod! I never knowed
the man could look that way.
"'Ay, lad,' says the skipper, 'I'm proud t' know the man that isn't
afeared o' Walrus--'
"'Don't you call her that!' says the cook. 'Don't you do it,
skipper!'
"I was lookin' at Liz. She was grinnin' in a holy sort o' way. Never
seed nothin' like that afore--no, lads, not in all my life.
"'An' why not, cook?' says the skipper.
"'It ain't her name,' says the cook.
"'It ain't?' says the skipper. 'But I been sailin' the Labrador for
twenty year,' says he, 'an' I 'ain't never heared her called nothin'
but Walrus--'
"'Don't you do it, skipper!'
"The devil got into the cook's hands then. I seed his fingers clawin'
the air in a hungry sort o' way. An' it looked t' me like squally
weather for the skipper.
"'Don't you do it no more, skipper,' says the cook. 'I isn't got no
wits,' says he, an' I'm feelin' wonderful queer!'
"The skipper took a look ahead into the cook's eyes. 'Well, cook,'
says he, 'I 'low,' says he, 'I won't.'
"Liz laughed--an' got close t' the fool from Twist Tickle. An' I seed
her touch his coat-tail, like as if she loved it, but didn't dast do
no more.
"'What you two goin' t' do?' says the skipper.
"'We 'lowed you'd marry us,' says the cook, ''til we come across a
parson.'
"'I will,' says the skipper. 'Stand up here,' says he. 'All hands
stand up!' says he. 'Tumm,' says he, 'get me the first Book you comes
across.'
"I got un a Book.
"'Now, Liz,' says he, 'can you cook?'
"'Fair t' middlin',' says she. 'I won't lie.'
"'Twill do,' says he. 'An' does you want t' get married t' this here
dam' fool?'
"'An it pleathe you,' says she.
"'Shoos,' says the skipper, 'will you let this woman do the cookin'?'
"'Well, skipper,' says the cook, 'I will; for I don't want nobody t'
die o' my cookin' on this here v'y'ge, an' I _knows_ that mother
wouldn't mind.'
"'An' will you keep out o' the galley?'
"'I 'low I'll _have_ to.'
"'An' look you! cook, is you sure--is you _sure_,' says the skipper,
with a shudder, lookin' at the roof, 'that you wants t' marry this
here--'
"'Don't you do it, skipper!' says the cook. 'Don't you say that no
more! By the Lord!' says he, 'I'll kill you if you does!'
"'Is you sure,' says the skipper, 'that you wants t' marry this
here--woman?'
"'I will.'
"'Well,' says the skipper, kissin' the Book, 'I 'low me an' the crew
don't care; an' we can't help it, anyhow.'
"'What about mother's ring?' says the cook. 'She might's well have
that,' says he, 'if she's careful about the wear an' tear. For
joolery,' says he t' Liz, 'don't stand it.'
"'It can't do no harm,' says the skipper.
"'Ith we married, thkipper?' says Liz, when she got the ring on.
"'Well,' says the skipper, 'I 'low that knot'll hold 'til we puts into
Twist Tickle, where Parson Stump can mend it, right under my eye.
For,' says he, 'I got a rope's-end an' a belayin'-pin t' _make_ it
hold,' says he, ''til we gets 'longside o' _some_ parson that knows
more about matrimonial knots 'n me. We'll pick up your goods, Liz,'
says he, 'on the s'uthard v'y'ge. An' I hopes, ol' girl,' says he,
'that you'll be able t' boil the water 'ithout burnin' it.'
"'Ay, Liz,' says the cook, 'I been makin' a awful fist o' b'ilin' the
water o' late.'
"She give him one look--an' put her clean pinny to her eyes.
"'What you cryin' about?' says the cook.
"'I don't know,' says she; 'but I 'low 'tith becauthe now I knowth you
_ith_ a fool!'
"'She's right, Tumm,' says the cook. 'She's got it right! Bein' born
on Hollow-eve,' says he, 'I couldn't be nothin' else. But, Liz,' says
he, 'I'm glad I got you, fool or no fool.'
"So she wiped her eyes, an' blowed her nose, an' give a little sniff,
an' looked up an' smiled.
"'I isn't good enough for you,' says the poor cook. 'But, Liz,' says
he, 'if you kissed me,' says he, 'I wouldn't mind a bit. An' they
isn't a man in this here fo'c's'le,' says he, lookin' round, 'that'll
say I'd mind. Not one,' says he, with the little devil jumpin' in his
eyes.
"Then she stopped cryin' for good.
"'Go ahead, Liz!' says he. 'I ain't afeared. Come on!' says he. 'Give
us a kiss!'
"'Motheth Thooth,' says she, 'you're the firtht man ever athked me t'
give un a kith!'
"She kissed un. 'Twas like a pistol-shot. An', Lord! her poor face was
shinin'...."
* * * * *
In the cabin of the _Quick as Wink_ we listened to the wind as it
scampered over the deck; and my uncle and I watched Tumm pick at the
knot in the table.
"He don't _need_ no sense," said Tumm, looking up, at last; "for he've
_had_ a mother, an' he've _got_ a memory."
'Twas very true, I thought.