and brother in the riots, her mother after that. She has no one. She
teaches music--piano and violin--night and day. Sometimes she gives a
recital with her pupils--and she has me." He laughed a little bitterly.
"It isn't an exciting life."

"I dunno's I'd say jest that," said Uncle William, slowly. "It ain't
exactly the things that happen--" He broke off, looking at something
far away. "Why, I've had things happen to me--shipwreck, you know--winds
a-blowin' and sousin' the deck--and a-gettin' out the boats and yellin'
and shoutin'--Seems 's if it ought to 'a' been excitin'. But Lord!
'twa'n't nuthin' to what I've felt other times--times when it was all
still-like on the island here--and big--so's 't you kind o' hear suthin'
comin' to ye over the water. Why, some days it's been so's I'd feel's if
I'd _bust_ if I didn't do suthin'--suthin' to let off steam."

The young man nodded. "You ought to be an artist. That's the way they
feel--some of them."

Uncle William beamed on him. "You don't say so! Must be kind o' hard
work, settin' still and doin' art when you feel like that. I gen'ally go
clammin', or suthin'."

The artist laughed out, boyishly. He reached out a hand for the locket.

But Uncle William held it a moment, looking down at it. "Things happen
to _her_--every day," he said. "You can see that, plain enough. She
don't hev to be most drowned to hev feelin's." He looked up. "When you
goin' to be married?"

"Not till we can afford it--years." The tone was somber.