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"Had my supper," Billy informed him. "You go on back and tell Ma that.",

"Walter Watland, sir," panted Fatty, glimpsing the light in the nick of time.,

The schooner having touched at Falmouth, proceeded to Old Harbour, where her unexpected arrival aroused great excitement, and provoked much wonderment, and started every tongue into a passion of gossip and conjecture. The crew gave the populace the news that the Admiral and his son, Mr Lawrence, had gone ashore at Falmouth, but whether to stop there or whether to make sail from that port to foreign parts, the Jacks were unable to affirm.,

"You will add to your ships?" said Sir William.

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"This is the yarn, Fellowes," said the Admiral, who, it had been pre-arranged, was[Pg 422] to tell the story. "My friend Acton is the owner of this schooner; he is also the owner of another ship, called the Minorca. Now, this ship, of which my friend was good enough to give the command to my son——",

"You heard?" Billy asked in awed tones.,

"I know," she continued, still preserving her accent of scorn and viewing him with eyes that did not seem to be her's, so did she contrive to diminish the breadth of the beauty of the lids, so did she manage to look passions and feelings which the memory of her oldest friend could never have recalled as vitalising her brooding half-hooded gaze: "I know that this man came ashore and lived[Pg 284] upon his father who was poor, and drank and gambled until his name provoked nothing but a shrug, and that one day in a fit of pity, for which doubtless he has asked God's pardon, Captain Acton, who loves Admiral Lawrence, gave his poor creature of a son command of a ship. This I know," she said, letting her eyes fall suddenly from his face down upon her fingers, which she seemed to count as she proceeded. "But I had always supposed that there was some spirit of goodness left in Mr Walter Lawrence. I believed that though he might gamble and drink and live in idleness upon the bounty of his father, he with all his imperfections was a man incapable of outraging the feelings of a young girl, incapable of betraying the generous confidence of one who stood to him as a warm-hearted friend. Can you be that Mr Lawrence?" she said, peering at him in such a peculiar fashion, with such archness of contempt that a spectator, short-sighted and at a little distance, would have supposed she was looking at the handsome fellow through an eye-glass. "Oh, I am going mad to suppose it—mad to think it possible!",

Suddenly Croaker stretched himself erect. A soft whistle, so low as to be inaudible to the indignant woman but clear to his acute ears, had sounded from the far side of the wood pile. Pausing only long enough to locate the sound, Croaker spread his wings and volplaned down, emitting a hoarse croak of triumph almost in Mrs. Wilson's face, as he swept close above her.