FISHERMEN'S OWN BOOK. 177 



the house seemed now that her noisy boy was no longer in it. Little Ran 

 was still quietly sleeping, and it would be perhaps two or three hours before 

 he would wake and want his breakfast. Margery sat down to do a few rows 

 on her net, but the stillness was so oppressive that it presently became un- 

 bearable, and she arose and went out to work awhile in her garden, in the 

 dewy freshness and coolness of the morning. 



Bye-and-bye she heard Ran's voice at the open window. "Where isWob ? " 

 he asked. 



" Rob has gone with papa in the Phillis. Don't you remember he carried 

 his clothes aboard last night ? He got up very early and went away while 

 you were fast asleep." 



•'I want Wob ! " was the response, with a gush of tears. 



Margery's heart echoed the cry as she went in to console her little one 

 and to get him his breakfast of bread and milk. The day was long for 

 Margery, and long for little Ran, who missed his playmate. And when he 

 went to bed he asked, "Will Wob tum in the night?" And in the morning 

 the first question was, "Will Wob tum to-day?" And the questions were 

 daily asked, morning and night, during Rob's absence. 



The days went by one after another, till a fortnight had passed, and it 

 was time to look for the Phillis. And Margery, sitting at her net, or chat- 

 ting with some neighbor who had come in, often looked out on the bay, 

 hoping to catch a glimpse of a white sail that was dearer to her than all the 

 other white sails fhtting to and fro on the broad blue sea. 



There came a day when the Summer sun shone fiercely down on a parched 

 earth. All the morning there was an ominous stillness in the air. There 

 was no note of bird or sound of insect, and even the waters for once seemed 

 hushed into absolute silence. When Margery had finished her midday 

 meal, she went to the door and sent a sweeping glance over the darkening 

 waters. She saw a sail — yes, it was the sail she longed to see. But what 

 a lurid light filled the air, and what threatening clouds were piling up in 

 great masses towards the zenith. "O if they were but here," she sighed. 



The storm broke long before the craft Margery's eyes so eagerly watched 

 could reach a haven. How the lightning flashed, and the thunder roared, 

 and the wind swept round the little house on the headland ! How the rain 

 poured in a blinding sheet, that shut out from Margery's sight the vessel on 

 the tossing billows of the bay ! She drew back from the window, and clasp- 

 ing closely Ran in her arms, she waited for the power of the tempest to be 

 spent. Hours passed by, but still the wind blew a gale, and the rain fell in 

 torrents, when the shades of night gathered, and darkness covered the face 

 of the mighty deep. 



A sleepless night it was for Margery Wayne, and when day dawned, 

 though the rain had ceased to fall, a turbulent, stormy sea was still lashed 



