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Captain interrupted, trying to rescue the lad from the despair that was evident on his face. God, the boy would have to toughen up a little. “Anyway, the shopkeeper can read and so can the serving girls, so you’ll have no trouble.”
    Richard stood in his place.
    â€œWell, be on with you, then,” the Captain said. “Off you go.”
    Richard clutched the note in his right fist. Here at last was a chance to see some of Burin in daylight all by himself. The store was at the far end of Bull’s Cove, and Richard made his way along the ruts in the road. The snow that had covered them most of the winter had melted from the heat of the abundant traffic. It’ll take awhile for the snow to melt at home , Richard thought, there being such little traffic. Along the way, he passed two ladies with great feathered hats on their heads. Were the hats heavy? he wondered. He had never seen such high, fancy hats; in Little Bay, the women only wore bonnets. So pretty these were here. He tried to picture his mother in such a hat, but quickly decided it would not suit her. And where would she wear it?
    One horse and rider after another went by him in both directions. Most of the horses were dark as the night. Only a few had thick legs and hooves like Hero back home. Richard realized that he was alone now, although he was surrounded by people and their noisy activity. No one was telling him how to push the wheelbarrow or paint the trim on a dory. The sternness that radiated from his father was left down there on the wharf while he was up here in the town. For the first time in many weeks, he felt the busy feeling in his head cease. He relished the feeling and settled into a relaxing stroll to the store.
    Finally he reached it. It was in a large, flat-roofed building next to one of the grandest houses in Burin. The house, painted white like most in the town, had rows of windows and a fence that surrounded it. Richard’s eyes settled on it. Then he walked up the steps to the store, slowly, taking it all in. He noticed the white letters on the window. He tried to read them: so-ap , what’s that? Ladies’ dresses . He recognized that one. Wouldn’t it be something if he could save enough to buy his mother a dress? And maybe dresses for his little sisters? They would be so happy, and his mother could have a rest for a few evenings instead of blinding herself with needles and thread. Hats , that was an easy one: his surname started with “H”. Wash-buckets , he figured that one out. Same with molasses , and rice . But S-ho-es , he didn’t know what that was. Darn, he wished he’d had more schooling. His heart cried out for the little classroom that had cocooned him those few winters, but that he’d left behind long ago, forever.
    His thoughts were broken by a voice that sounded harsh at first. “Who are you?” it said. “What are you doing?”
    Richard looked away from the window to see a blond boy, a head taller than himself. The boy was dressed in dark overalls and wore a clean heavy jacket over them. On his head was a work cap of the kind Richard had seen the tradesmen wear.
    â€œI’m Richard,” he answered, wondering for the second time that day if he was in trouble.
    â€œOh, Richard who? And where are you from?” the bigger boy asked, his brow creased in seriousness.
    â€œHanrahan, from Little Bay,” Richard said.
    â€œOh. Good afternoon. I’m Peter, Peter Moulton from Salt Pond, but I live here in the harbour now.” His features softened, and Richard relaxed with the knowledge that the boy was merely curious. He nodded.
    â€œWhat’re you doing here then?” Peter asked.
    â€œFishing, well, getting ready for the spring trip,” Richard said, feeling a little surge of pride. “My father and I are on the Laura Claire. She’s that big schooner down there.” He pointed to the dockside, where the activity looked like