"Well," said she, "this Turkey red is a great deal prettier
than what I had, and you've bought so much of it that I needn't
use the other at all. I wish I had thought of Turkey red
before."
"I wish from my heart you had!" said I.
THE CHRISTMAS WRECK
"Well, sir," said old Silas, as he gave a preliminary puff to the
pipe he had just lighted, and so satisfied himself that the
draught was all right, "the wind's a-comin', an' so's Christmas.
But it's no use bein' in a hurry fur either of 'em, fur sometimes
they come afore you want 'em, anyway."
Silas was sitting in the stern of a small sailing-boat which
he owned, and in which he sometimes took the Sandport visitors
out for a sail, and at other times applied to its more legitimate
but less profitable use, that of fishing. That afternoon he had
taken young Mr. Nugent for a brief excursion on that portion of
the Atlantic Ocean which sends its breakers up on the beach of
Sandport. But he had found it difficult, nay, impossible, just
now, to bring him back, for the wind had gradually died away
until there was not a breath of it left. Mr. Nugent, to whom
nautical experiences were as new as the very nautical suit of
blue flannel which he wore, rather liked the calm. It was such a
relief to the monotony of rolling waves. He took out a cigar and
lighted it, and then he remarked:
"I can easily imagine how a wind might come before you sailors
might want it, but I don't see how Christmas could come too
soon.
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