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"Answer me, young man, I've praiched your funeral." "You'll have to do it again, Mr. Cregeen, for I'm not gone yet," said Pete. "No, but worth ten dead men still," said Black Tom. "And my goodness, boy, the smart and stout you're looking, anyway. Been thatching a bit on the chin, eh? Foreign parts has made a man of you, Peter. The straight you're like the family, too!
Come down on the quay and up with your fiss, and I'll show you which of us is the better man." A moment later Cæsar and Pete were rattling over the cobbles of the market-place, with the dog racing behind. Pete was full of questions. "And how's yourself, Mr. Cregeen?" "I'm in, sir, I'm in, sir, praise the Lord." "And Grannie?"
Philip halted for an answer, and then said, "Well, he's only with me in the boat at present, Mr. Cregeen." "And what's he getting? His meat and drink and a bit of pence, eh? And you'll be selling up some day, it's like, and going away to England over, and then where is he? Let the girl marry a mother-naked man at once." "But you're wanting help yourself, father," said Grannie.
On her," said Denry. And he went out on to the sand and shingle, leaving John and Cregeen to complete the sale to Cregeen of the Fleetwing, a small cutter specially designed to take twelve persons forth for "a pleasant sail in the bay." If Cregeen had not had a fancy for the Fleetwing and a perfect lack of the money to buy her, Denry might never have been able to induce him to sell the lifeboat.
"Aw, look at the base first, Mr. Cregeen. Examine her for yourself, sir." "Yes yes well, yes; a middling good base enough. Four calves, Thomas?" "Two, sir, and calves again for January. Twenty-four quarts of new milk every day of life, and butter fit to burst the churn for you." "No fever at all? No fits? No?" "Aw, have you known me these teens of years, Mr. Cregeen "
"It's a long way back to Ballure, Mrs. Cregeen," said Philip, popping his head in at the door jamb. "May I stay to a bite of supper?" "Aw, stay and welcome," said Cæsar, putting down the big book, and Nancy Joe said the same, dropping her high-pitched voice perceptibly, and Grannie said, also, "Right welcome, sir, if you'll not be thinking mane to take pot luck with us. Potatoes and herrings, Mr.
Cregeen genuinely thought that he had a right to half Denry's profits. Old Simeon, too, seemed to think that he had a right to a large percentage of the same profits.
But a girl, a little dark thing in a red frock, stepped out from her place beside the boy, shot up like a gleam to the schoolmaster as he returned to his seat among the cloth and needles, dealt him a smart slap across the face, and then burst into a lit of hysterical crying. Her name was Katherine Cregeen.
He's fond of your daughter, Cæsar, and wants your good-will to marry her." "Lord-a-massy!" cried Nancy Joe. "Dear heart alive!" muttered Grannie. "Peter Quilliam!" said Cæsar, "did you say Peter?" "I did, Mr. Cregeen, Peter Quilliam," said Philip stoutly, "my friend Pete, a rough fellow, perhaps, and without much education, but the best-hearted lad in the island.
Cregeen how did you know what was inside of it? 'On Her Majesty's Sarvice, you say. But it isn't dead letters only that's coming with words same as that." The postman was meddling with his front hair. "The Lord has His own wayses of doing His work, has He, Cæsar? I never heard tell, though, that opening other people's letters was one of them." Mr.
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