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"Croaker brought you that?" he gasped. "Well, I'll be shot!" Billy stood up and gazed about him. "Where's Croaker now?" he asked. Mrs. Wilson turned to the door, wiped her red face on her apron, and finished emptying a pan of hot cookies into the stone crock, before answering, sternly: "Will you give him this packet of sulphur, and tell him to put a little into his stockings? I hope it may do the rheumatism in the poor man's feet good.".

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The girl felt her companion's hand tighten spasmodically on hers. She glanced up to find him staring, wide-eyed at the bird. "Eh? What's that?" Mr. Johnston fairly recoiled in surprise and indignation at the affront to his dignity. "Silence! boys and girls," he shouted, as a titter ran through the schoolroom. "Who commanded His Britannic Majesty's sloop Merlin?" cried Sir William. "My dear Fellowes, this is indeed an unexpected meeting. And you knew me before I should have known you!" The scene of the quay-side was gay and indeed festive. The few ships had hoisted colours in celebration of the Aurora's arrival, and the large flags of those days streaming from mast-head and gaff-end and ensign-staff and jack-staff combined with the brilliant blue of the sky, the light and lovely greenery of spring that clothed the ravine's slopes, the sober hue of the cliffs, the white shape of the squab lighthouse past which some gulls[Pg 90] were wheeling, the chocolate tint of the revolving windmill, the sober grey of the houses and the diamond sparkle of the river with its softened reflection of bridge and banks streaming into its heart in dreamlike shadow of what was mirrored: this combination, I say, coupled with the motions and colours of human life on the quay-side, albeit the beer hour had struck and the picture owed nothing of animation to the workmen, fascinated the eye with the calm, the freshness, and the glory of a little English sea-piece, Sabbath-like in repose, lighted by the sun of April beaming in a perfectly fair heaven..