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They were a pair of happy-go-lucky lads, and they looked to the future with cheerful faces. There was one shadow over their content, and that was the ghost of a gleam of sunshine. It made daylight between them, though, day by day as they ran together like two that run a race. The prize was Katherine Cregeen.
It's like going to the shop with an ould Manx shilling you get your pen'orth of taffy and twelve pence out." "Lend's a hand with the jough then, boy. None left? Aw, Cæsar's wonderful religious, but there's never much lavings of ale with him." Cæsar was striding through the stooks past Philip and Kate. "Will it thrash well, Mr. Cregeen?" said Philip.
I'll meet her at the quay it's my duty to meet her," said Cæsar. "And I'll board her in the bay," shouted Black Tom. "Thomas Quilliam," said Cæsar, "it's borne in on my spirit that the devil of greed is let loose on you." "Cæsar Cregeen, don't make a nose of wax of me," bawled Tom, "and don't think because you're praiching a bit that religion is going to die with you.
Cæsar, as he spoke, tipped his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of Ross, and, seeing this, Ross interrupted his conversation with Kate to address himself to her father. "So you've been reading the paper, Mr. Cregeen?" "Aw, reading and reading," said Cæsar grumpily. Then in another tone, "You're home again from London, sir? Great doings yonder, they're telling me.
The coxswain, who stated that his name was Cregeen, and that he was a Manxman, seemed to regret the entire expedition. He seemed to be unaware that it was his duty now to play the part of the modest hero to Denry's interviewing. At every loose end of the chat he would say gloomily: "And look at her now, I'm telling ye!" Meaning the battered craft, which rose and fell on the black waves.
"She's not far off neither," said Philip, still winking vigorously. "But don't trouble about them, Mr. Cregeen. They'll want no supper. They're feeding on sweeter things than herrings even." Saying this he swallowed a gulp with another laugh. Cæsar lifted his head with a pinch of his herring between finger and thumb half way to his open mouth. "Were you spaking, sir?" he said.
"I am," said Philip. "Then do you remember the ould Manx saying, 'Perhaps the last dog may be catching the hare?" "Leave it to me, Mr. Cregeen," said Philip through his teeth. Half a minute afterwards he was swinging down the dark road homewards, by the side of Ross, who was drawling along with his cold voice. "So you've started on your light-weight handicap, Philip.
It'll be Sunday every day of the week with the man that's getting the lavings." "Take a taste of this beef before it goes, Mr. Thomas Quilliam, or do you prefer the mutton?" "I'm not partic'lar, Mr. Cregeen. Ateing's nothing to me but filling a sack that's empty."
But it was all a vague murmur, fraying off into nothing, ending like a wave with a long upward plash of low sound. The parson was speaking to her again, softly, gently, caressingly, almost as if she were a frightened child. "Don't be afraid, my dear! try to speak after me. Take your time." Then, aloud, "'I, Katherine Cregeen."
Let me tell you, Mr. Cæsar Cregeen, it's possible to have one name in heaven that's worse than none at all on earth, and that's the name of a hypocrite." So saying he threw back his chair, and was making for the door, when Cæsar rose and said softly, "Come into the bar and have something."
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