They went out; but from them all not a word, until they were at the
church door, and here it was she who spoke. "Captain Baldwin, is it not
a dangerous night?"

"Meaning at sea, Mrs. Bowen?"

"At sea--on the light-ship."

"Why, bless you, no. Old 67, she's been out on that spot--Lord knows how
long she's been out there. She's sort of a part of the furniture out
there now. Why, the very fishes that come to feed on South Shoal, Mrs.
Bowen--they'd think they was on the wrong bank if they couldn't look up
and see the barnacled bottom of old 67 over 'em. Rough? Lord, yes,
plenty rough out there t'night, but not dangerous. Lord, no, Mrs. Bowen,
not dangerous. All she's got to do is to hang on to her moorin's."

"You are a kind-hearted man, Mr. Baldwin, and a good friend. My husband,
he thinks the world of you. I go in now, to pray for him, to bring him
home to us. Good-night, and a happy Christmas to you." She hesitated,
"And to you, Mr. Harty, a happy Christmas also."

Harty did not close the door behind her until he had seen her kneel at
the altar-rail. Out in the street again, he turned abruptly to his chum.
"Look here, Baldy, what was it her father whispered to you--just before
she came into the backroom?"

"What? Why-y--I--Well, no harm telling it, I reckon, though I don't know
why he didn't tell you, too, Bud--she's goin'--" Baldwin lowered his
voice--"she's goin' to have a baby, and--what's it?"