FullReads

“But when Tim Mull come aboard at Tinkle Tickle t’ greet me, I was fair aghast an’ dismayed. Never afore had he looked so woebegone an’ wan. Red eyes peerin’ out from two black caves; face all screwed with anxious thought. He made me think of a fish-thief, somehow, with a constable comin’ down with the wind; an’ it seemed, too, that maybe ’twas my fish he’d stole. For he’d lost his ease; he was full o’ sighs an’ starts an’ shifty glances. An’ there was no health in his voice; ’twas but a disconsolate whisper–slinkin’ out into the light o’ day. ‘Sin on his soul,’ thinks I. ‘He dwells in black weather.’

“‘We spied you from the head,’ says he–an’ sighed. ‘It gives me a turn, lad, t’ see you so sudden. But I’m wonderful glad you’ve come.’

“‘Glad?’ says I. ‘Then look glad, ye crab!’ An’ I fetched un a clap on the back.

“‘Ouch!’ says he. ‘Don’t, Tumm!’

“‘I congratu late you,’ says I.

“‘Mm-m?’ says he. ‘Oh, ay! Sure, lad.’ No smile, mark you. An’ he looked off t’ sea, as he spoke, an’ then down at his boots, like a man in shame. ‘Ay,’ says he, brows down, voice gone low an’ timid. ‘Congratu late me, does you? Sure. That’s proper–maybe.’

“‘Nineteenth o’ the month,’ says I.

“‘That’s God’s truth, Tumm.’

“‘An’ I’m come, ecod,’ says I, ‘t’ celebrate the first birthday o’ Tobias Tumm Mull!’

“‘First birthday,’ says he. ‘That’s God’s truth.’

“‘Isn’t there goin’ t’ be no celebration?’

“‘Oh, sure!’ says he. ‘Oh, my, yes! Been gettin’ ready for days. An’ I’ve orders t’ fetch you straightway t’ the house. Supper’s laid, Tumm. Four places at the board the night.’

“‘I’ll get my gifts,’ says I; ‘an’ then—-‘

“He put a hand on my arm. ‘What gifts?’ says he.

“‘Is you gone mad, Tim Mull?’

“‘For–the child?’ says he. ‘Oh, sure! Mm-m!’ He looked down at the deck. ‘I hopes, Tumm,’ says he, ‘that they wasn’t so very–expensive.’

“‘I’ll spend what I likes,’ says I, ‘on my own godson.’

“‘Sure, you will!’ says he. ‘But I wish that—-‘

“Then no more. He stuttered–an’ gulped–an’ give a sigh–an’ went for’ard. An’ so I fetched the spoon an’ the mug from below, in a sweat o’ wonder an’ fear, an’ we went ashore in Tim’s punt, with Tim as glum as a rainy day in the fall o’ the year.”

* * * * *

“An’ now you may think that Mary Mull was woebegone, too. But she was not. Brown, plump, an’ rosy! How she bloomed! She shone with health; she twinkled with good spirits. There was no sign o’ shame upon her no more. Her big brown eyes was clean o’ tears. Her voice was soft with content. A sweet woman, she was, ever, an’ tender with happiness, now, when she met us at the threshold. I marveled that a gift like Toby Mull could work such a change in a woman. ‘Tis queer how we thrives when we haves what we wants. She thanked me for the mug an’ the spoon in a way that made me fair pity the joy that the little things give her.

“‘For Toby!’ says she. ‘For wee Toby! Ah, Tumm, Tumm,–how wonderful thoughtful Toby’s godfather is!’

“She wiped her eyes, then; an’ I wondered that she should shed tears upon such an occasion–ay, wondered, an’ could make nothin’ of it at all.

“”Tis a great thing,’ says she, ‘t’ be the mother of a son. I lost my pride, Tumm, as you knows, afore we moved down the Labrador. But now, Tumm,–now, lad,–I’m jus’ like other women. I’m jus’ as much a woman, Tumm,’ says she, ‘as any woman o’ Tinkle Tickle!’

“With that she patted my shoulder an’ smiled an’ rippled with sweet laughter an’ fled t’ the kitchen t’ spread Toby Mull’s first birthday party.