Sara's eyes were fixed upon her with an interested, yet half-doubtful
look. She had heard these superstitions from babyhood, till they had
become almost a part of her religion. Yet she sometimes questioned, as
now.

"But, mother, mightn't these things happen, don't they happen often, and
nothing come of it? I'm sure there are winding-sheets always if the
tallow is poor, and that dog of John Updyke's howls every time they go
away and leave him alone. It seems to me, if God is so great that even
the winds and the sea obey him, he might warn us in other finer, higher
ways if he wished to; besides, why should he warn us when he knows he is
doing everything for our best good? You don't warn the baby when you
give him medicine, even though you know he won't like taking it."

"Sairay! Sairay!" her mother lifted an admonishing finger, "be careful
how you talk about the A'mighty! Babies is different from growed-up
folks, and, besides, I guess ef the Lord ain't too good to count the
hairs of our heads, he can even take notice of a dog's howl!" and Sara,
who had the reverent soul of a little child, was once again silenced, if
not convinced. Just then, too, her father entered, bringing a great gust
of cold air with him as he opened the door.

"Up yet?" he asked in his big, cheery voice, as he unwound the gorgeous
worsted comforter from about his throat, and shook off the sleety rain
from his tarpaulin. "Waal, this fire's a purty sight, I vum, for it's a
dirty night out, an' no mistake. But we'd better all turn in naow, for
we must be stirrin' early to-morrer; we've got our orders, an' I'm
second mate o' the Nautilus."

"O father, the Nautilus? That old tub? I thought you said she wasn't