72 ALONGSHORE n 



soaked Into her consciousness; for the month 

 was February, and she was probably born with 

 the window shut. 



The Polar Eskimos hold that each human 

 being consists of a soul, and a body, and a name. 

 Jim, the 01' Man, and Susan Jim gave Sema- 

 phore her body and called her soul unto it. Her 

 name, that part of her, is mine. When I returned 

 from the exile into which her coming drove me, 

 my kitchen corner, that used to contain boots and 

 guernseys and socks for darning, was occupied 

 by a cradle and a squeak. Over the cradle, 

 which rocked in bumps on the uneven stone floor, 

 was hung a line of tiny many-coloured gar- 

 ments. At intervals, being hungry, the squeak 

 squeaked. A crazy patch-work quilt heaved 

 feebly. (The heave is less gentle nowadays.) 

 Two tiny red arms waved themselves about; 

 jerked and waved. 'Twas like a semaphore — 

 with a foghorn attached. 'What a semaphore 

 of a baby!' I remarked. 'Semifore! Semifore!' 

 cried the elder children. She possesses other 

 names of course. Had I been asked to act as 

 her godfather. . . . But girls only require one 

 godfather, and among Semaphore's people, what- 

 ever the Church may say about parents not being 



