"So you walked out from Mouzle to see the last of Joe's ship?" he asked,
quite seriously and with no light note in his voice.
"From Newlyn. I ed'n a Mouzle maid," she answered.
"Is the 'Anna' coming home again soon?"
"No, sir. Her's bound for the Gulf of Californy, round t'other side the
world, Joe sez. He reckons to be back agin' come winter."
"That's a long time."
"Iss, 'tis."
But there was no sentiment about the answer. Joan gazed without a shadow of
emotion at the vanishing ship, and alluded to the duration of her
sweetheart's absence in a voice that never trembled. Then she gave the
glass back to Barron with many thanks, and evidently wanted to be gone, but
stopped awkwardly, not quite knowing how to depart.
Meanwhile, showing no further cognizance of her, Barron took the glasses
himself and looked at the distant ship.
"A splendid vessel," he said. "I expect you have a picture of her, haven't
you?"
"No," she answered, "but I've got a lil ship Joe cut out o' wood an'
painted butivul. Awnly that's another vessel what Joe sailed in afore."
"I'll tell you what I'll do," he said, "because you were good enough to
explain all about the fishing-boats. I'll make a tiny picture of the 'Anna'
and paint it and give it to you."
But the girl took fright instantly.
"You'm a artist, then?" she said, with alarm in her face and voice.
He shook his head.
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