"Why don't you try your hand at it yourself, Anne?"
Anne shook her head.
" No. I only wish I could. But it's not in the power
of my gift. You know what my forte is, Gilbert--the
fanciful, the fairylike, the pretty. To write Captain
Jim's life-book as it should be written one should be a
master of vigorous yet subtle style, a keen
psychologist, a born humorist and a born tragedian. A
rare combination of gifts is needed. Paul might do it
if he were older. Anyhow, I'm going to ask him to come
down next summer and meet Captain Jim."
"Come to this shore," wrote Anne to Paul. "I am
afraid you cannot find here Nora or the Golden Lady or
the Twin Sailors; but you will find one old sailor who
can tell you wonderful stories."
Paul, however wrote back, saying regretfully that he
could not come that year. He was going abroad for two
year's study.
"When I return I'll come to Four Winds, dear Teacher,"
he wrote.
"But meanwhile, Captain Jim is growing old," said
Anne, sorrowfully, "and there is nobody to write his
life-book."
CHAPTER 18
SPRING DAYS
The ice in the harbor grew black and rotten in the
March suns; in April there were blue waters and a
windy, white-capped gulf again; and again the Four
Winds light begemmed the twilights.
Pages:
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205