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"A cookie, a nice fat cookie, with a raisin in its centre," coaxed the girl. "Croaker, good old Croaker, come down and I'll get you a cookie," Erie begged. He said something now, low and guttural, to the woman shaking her fist at him in impotent anger. His voice was almost human in tone, his attitude so sinister that she shuddered. "That's right, swear at me, too," she cried, "add insult to injury, you black imp! If it wasn't fer bein' scared of shootin' myself I'd get the gun an' shoot you, I would so!".

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Lucy was of opinion that the ship must prove the Minorca. She well understood that the two vessels could not be far asunder, and quite rationally concluded that the sail ahead was the barque. It would have needed, however, a keener gaze than either Captain Acton[Pg 413] or the Admiral was capable of bringing to bear, to penetrate to the girl's thoughts. Whilst the distant vessel leaned like a small orange flame gently blown sideways by the wind upon the early evening purple of the horizon, Lucy would overhang the rail with her brooding, beautiful eyes dwelling upon that far-off vision, and the expression of her face was in these intervals of motionless posture and steadfast regard, as though she was asleep and dreamt, and that her dream was partly sweet and partly vexing and bitter, so that her whole look was that of one who slumbers, through whose sealed lids a vision of sleep slides to the heart to trouble its pulse. "Well, what is it, then? Who sent you? Come now, out with it quick, or I'll take a tarred rope-end to you." "The Reverend Reddick is available at any day, any hour, Lighthouse girl; he's conducting revival services in the Valley church. It will all be so simple. Won't you say next week?" "She didn't look as if she remembered me, your honour, and she said nothing about it.".