some strange human variety. Behind this pair was a short,
impatient, little person, who kept the captain's house, and gave it
what Mrs. Todd and others believed to be no proper sort of care.
She was usually called "that Mari' Harris" in subdued conversation
between intimates, but they treated her with anxious civility when
they met her face to face.

The bay-sheltered islands and the great sea beyond stretched
away to the far horizon southward and eastward; the little
procession in the foreground looked futile and helpless on the edge
of the rocky shore. It was a glorious day early in July, with a
clear, high sky; there were no clouds, there was no noise of the
sea. The song sparrows sang and sang, as if with joyous knowledge
of immortality, and contempt for those who could so pettily concern
themselves with death. I stood watching until the funeral
procession had crept round a shoulder of the slope below and
disappeared from the great landscape as if it had gone into a cave.

An hour later I was busy at my work. Now and then a bee
blundered in and took me for an enemy; but there was a useful stick
upon the teacher's desk, and I rapped to call the bees to order as
if they were unruly scholars, or waved them away from their riots
over the ink, which I had bought at the Landing store, and
discovered to be scented with bergamot, as if to refresh the labors
of anxious scribes. One anxious scribe felt very dull that day; a
sheep-bell tinkled near by, and called her wandering wits after it.
The sentences failed to catch these lovely summer cadences. For
the first time I began to wish for a companion and for news from
the outer world, which had been, half unconsciously, forgotten.
Watching the funeral gave one a sort of pain. I began to wonder if