Captain
Will rushed ashore and hurried out to Linnet. He would have one Sunday
more at home.
Annie was spending a week in Middlefield, and Linnet was alone. She had
decided not to go home, but to send for Marjorie; and was standing at the
gate watching for some one to pass, by whom she might send her message,
when Will himself appeared, having walked from the train.
Linnet shouted; he caught her in his arms and ran around the house with
her, depositing her at last in the middle of the grass plat in front of
the house.
"One more Sunday with you, sweetheart! Have you been praying for a head
wind?"
"Suppose I should pray for it to be ahead as long as we live!"
"Poor little girl! It's hard for you to be a sailor's wife, isn't it?"
"It isn't hard to be your wife. It would be hard not to be," said
demonstrative Linnet.
"You are going with me next voyage, you have promised."
"Your father has not said I might."
"He won't grumble; the _Linnet_ is making money for him."
"You haven't had any supper, Will! And I am forgetting it."
"Have you?"
"I didn't feel like eating, but I did eat a bowl of bread and milk."
"Do you intend to feed me on that?"
"No; come in and help, and I'll get you the nicest supper you ever had."
"I suppose I ought to go over and see father."
"Wait till afterward, and I'll go with you. O, Will! suppose it is fair
to-morrow, will he make you sail on Sunday?"
"I never _have_ sailed on Sunday."
"But he has! He says it is all nonsense not to take advantage of the
wind.
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