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    Judith Lynn A Story of the Sea
    Judith Lynn A Story of the Sea
    Judith Lynn A Story of the Sea
    Ebook77 pages59 minutes

    Judith Lynn A Story of the Sea

    By Annie Hamilton Donnell

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 25, 2013
    Judith Lynn A Story of the Sea

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      Book preview

      Judith Lynn A Story of the Sea - Annie Hamilton Donnell

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of Judith Lynn, by Annie Hamilton Donnell

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

      Title: Judith Lynn

      A Story of the Sea

      Author: Annie Hamilton Donnell

      Release Date: February 4, 2009 [EBook #27986]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JUDITH LYNN ***

      Produced by Jeff Kaylin

      Judith Lynn

      A Story of the Sea

      By Annie Hamilton Donnell

      Copyright, 1906,

      By David C. Cook Publishing Co.,

      Elgin, Illinois.

      Chapter I.

      In Tarpaulin and oilskins she did not look like a Judith. Easily she might have been a Joseph or a James. So it was not really to be wondered at that the little girl in the dainty clothes—the little girl from The Hotel—should say, Why!

      What is your name? the Dainty One had asked.

      Judith Lynn, had answered the boy-one in oilskins.

      Why! Then, as if catching herself up at the impoliteness of such a little word in such a surprised tone—I mean, please excuse me for thinking you were a boy, the little Dainty One had added, in considerable embarrassment. And Judith had laughed—Judith’s laughs were rare, but the crisp, salty brightness of the sea was always in them. The sea was in everything about Judith.

      I don’t wonder! laughed Judith. "Me, with these togs on! But I guess you’d be a boy when you went out to your traps—you can’t ’tend traps in skirts. Blossom calls me Judas with these on!"

      It was strange how suddenly the rather big voice—a voice has to be big to compete with the voice of the sea—grew soft and tender at the name of Blossom.

      In Judith Lynn’s rough, hard, salt-savored life Blossom was the one thing sweet and beautiful. Blossom was the little frail wisp of a child that Judith loved. This other child, here on the sand, watching her with friendly wonder, reminded her a little of Blossom. Anyway, they were both sweet and beautiful.

      Traps? queried this other child. I didn’t know there were mice in the ocean!—you were going out on the ocean, weren’t you?

      Again Judith’s rare, bright laugh. Children were such funny things!—Blossom was, too.

      Lobster-traps, she explained, when the laugh had laughed itself out. I’m going out to mine to get the lobsters. Out there where those little specks of white are bobbing ’round on the water—don’t you see?

      "I see some little specks—yes, they’re a-bobbing! Are those traps?"

      Mercy, no! The traps are sunk ’way down to the bottom o’ the sea! Those are nothing but the little wooden floats that tell me where the traps are. I couldn’t go hunting all over the bay, you know.

      No—oh, no, you couldn’t go hunting all over the bay, repeated the small, puzzled voice. The Dainty One was distinctly interested. "I s’pose, prob’ly, every one of those little white specks has got a fish line to it. I hope they’ve all got bites. Oh, my suz! Here comes Elise. Elise is always a-coming!" with a long sigh.

      Elise was slender and tall, in cap and apron. She walked with the stride of authority. A frown of displeasure was getting visibler and visibler on her face, the child noticed with another sigh. Elise was ’most always a-frowning.

      Good-by. I—I guess I’d better go and meet her, the Dainty One said hurriedly. She isn’t quite as cross when you go and meet her. It helps.

      But the child came back again to Judith Lynn. She held out one little sun-browned, sea-browned hand.

      I’m happy to have seen you, she said, with soft graciousness, as if Judith were a duchess in laces instead of a boy-girl in fisherman’s togs. I’d be pleased to see you some more. I like you.

      Oh! stammered the boy-girl in fisherman’s togs, a flush of pleasure reddening her brown face. No one had even said I’d be pleased to see you, to her before, though Blossom, of course, was always pleased. No one but Blossom had ever said, I like you, and Blossom’s way was, I love you.

      I must go—she’s ’most here, went on the child, rather anxiously. But first I wish you’d tell me who Blossom is. You spoke about Blossom, didn’t you?

      Yes. She’s my little sister. Her regular name is Janet. It’s only me calls her Blossom.

      "Oh, but that’s lots the prettiest name! I’m going to call her that, too. I’d be pleased to see Blossom. Is she about my tallness?"

      Judith’s face had undergone one of its swift changes. It had grown defensive and a little fierce. She should not see Blossom!—this other child who could walk away over the sand to meet Elises, whoever Elises were. She should not see Blossom! Blossom should not see her!

      "But, maybe—prob’ly

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