They stood
before the door and waited--Captain Jim with his ripe,
full experience, Marshall Elliott in his vigorous but
empty middle life, Gilbert and Anne with their precious
memories and exquisite hopes, Leslie with her record of
starved years and her hopeless future. The clock on
the little shelf above the fireplace struck twelve.
"Welcome, New Year," said Captain Jim, bowing low as
the last stroke died away. "I wish you all the best
year of your lives, mates. I reckon that whatever the
New Year brings us will be the best the Great Captain
has for us--and somehow or other we'll all make port in
a good harbor."
CHAPTER 17
A FOUR WINDS WINTER
Winter set in vigorously after New Year's. Big, white
drifts heaped themselves about the little house, and
palms of frost covered its windows. The harbor ice
grew harder and thicker, until the Four Winds people
began their usual winter travelling over it. The safe
ways were "bushed" by a benevolent Government, and
night and day the gay tinkle of the sleigh-bells
sounded on it. On moonlit nights Anne heard them in
her house of dreams like fairy chimes.
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