What?"
"Aw whee!" said Bennietod, intent upon a Roman candle, "wha' do you
care, Mr. Cawt'orne? You don't hev to go back fer to be a
child-slave to Chillingwort'. Me, I've gotta good call to jump
overboard now an' be de sonny of a sea-horse, dead to rights!"
St. George looked at them all affectionately, unconscious that
already the experience of the last three days was slipping back into
the sheathing past, like a blade used. But he was dawningly aware,
as he sat there at Olivia's feet in glorious content, that he was
looking at them all with new eyes. It was as if he had found new
names for them all; and until long afterward one does not know that
these moments of bestowing new names mark the near breathing of the
god.
The silence of Mrs. Hastings and her quiet devotion to her brother
somehow gave St. George a new respect for her. Over by the
wheel-house something made a strange noise of crying, and St. George
saw that Mr. Frothingham sat holding a weird little animal, like a
squirrel but for its stumpy tail and great human eyes, which he had
unwittingly stepped on among the rocks.
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