`` Most nights are beautiful , '' said Captain Jim . `` But I ` low that moonlight over Four Winds makes me sorter wonder what 's left for heaven . The moon 's a great friend of mine , Mistress Blythe . I 've loved her ever since I can remember . When I was a little chap of eight I fell asleep in the garden one evening and was n't missed . I woke up along in the night and I was most scared to death . What shadows and queer noises there was ! I durs n't move . Jest crouched there quaking , poor small mite . Seemed 's if there were n't anyone in the world but meself and it was mighty big . Then all at once I saw the moon looking down at me through the apple boughs , jest like an old friend . I was comforted right off . Got up and walked to the house as brave as a lion , looking at her . Many 's the night I 've watched her from the deck of my vessel , on seas far away from here . Why do n't you folks tell me to take in the slack of my jaw and go home ? '' The laughter of the goodnights died away . Anne and Gilbert walked hand in hand around their garden . The brook that ran across the corner dimpled pellucidly in the shadows of the birches . The poppies along its banks were like shallow cups of moonlight . Flowers that had been planted by the hands of the schoolmaster 's bride flung their sweetness on the shadowy air , like the beauty and blessing of sacred yesterdays .
XXXXX paused in the gloom to gather a spray .
Anne Blythe Gilbert Jim left meself moon pellucidly sorter yesterdays