"Tales about what he calls 'the good days,'—salt-water things," Elspeth explained. "One of the reasons why we came out here was so that Jim could have a quiet place to work in; also a change of climate. He was getting much too thin and nervous in town. And it was a chance for Garth, too. Jim knew this coast thoroughly. When we heard that the old keeper of Silver Shoal had died, Jim applied. It's usually very hard to get a station, but fortunately the man next in line withdrew on account of illness. Jim got the post, and we came. We've been here for over four years, and we're all utterly happy. Jim has written twice as much as he did in town, and—we have Garth."
"Was he ill?" asked Joan.
"Very," said Elspeth; "poliomyelitis, as they call it now. He'll never be able to walk properly, because one poor old leg didn't get much of its action back and the other isn't a great deal better. He was a good little person," she smiled with a far-away look. "Jim used to carry him down to the landing, and they both lay on a mattress, with their hats over their eyes, and Jim told him stories endlessly. The doctor said that if we'd stayed in town he couldn't have promised that Garth
