`` You 'll see a hundred , '' said Marshall Elliott . Captain Jim shook his head . `` No ; and I do n't want to -- at least , I think I do n't . Death grows friendlier as we grow older . Not that one of us really wants to die though , Marshall . Tennyson spoke truth when he said that . There 's old Mrs. Wallace up at the Glen . She 's had heaps of trouble all her life , poor soul , and she 's lost almost everyone she cared about . She 's always saying that she 'll be glad when her time comes , and she does n't want to sojourn any longer in this vale of tears . But when she takes a sick spell there 's a fuss ! Doctors from town , and a trained nurse , and enough medicine to kill a dog . Life may be a vale of tears , all right , but there are some folks who enjoy weeping , I reckon . '' They spent the old year 's last hour quietly around the fire . A few minutes before twelve Captain Jim rose and opened the door . `` We must let the New Year in , '' he said . Outside was a fine blue night . A sparkling ribbon of moonlight garlanded the gulf . Inside the bar the harbor shone like a pavement of pearl . 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 XXXXX , bowing low as the last stroke died away .
Anne Gilbert Glen Jim Leslie Marshall Tennyson fire minutes right