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Lucy Acton made her way towards Old Harbour Town by a lane that struck down off the road used by the coaches and post-chaises. This lane was broad and in places steep and rugged, with long spaces heavily flanked with tall and spacious trees. Elsewhere the low hedge revealed the sloping meadow or ploughed field whose margin where it sank low was defined against the blue water of the ocean.,

"Thanks," he whispered. Then, hospitality his first thought, he motioned towards a chair. Hinter sat down.,

The man waited outside for Mr Lawrence. When he appeared he seized his hand, and fell upon his crooked knees and kissed and slobbered his hand, and blubbered, with tears trickling down his face, "that so help him his good God, come what might he would do anything, no matter what, to serve his honour, he would die for his honour; let his honour command him to jump into the river then and there and drown himself, he'd do it if only to please him." His gestures whilst on his knees, his extraordinary grimaces, the strange, wild terms in which he expressed his pathetic gratitude for this condescension of a gentleman in taking notice of, and rescuing from gaol a poor, pitiful vagabond, a child of the parish,[Pg 119] a no man's son, nor woman's either, a creature who lived he could not tell how, sometimes by stealing a raw vegetable, sometimes by running an errand, sometimes by the bounty of a tradesman who might fling him a crust, or of some drunken fisherman who might toss him a shilling to sing him a song and dance as he sang, a performance so hideously uncouth that Hogarth would have immortalised it could he have witnessed it; his gratitude, in short, was so diverting, at the same time moving in its appeal to pity, that Mr Lawrence could scarcely forbear a laugh, and indeed did laugh when he got rid of the fellow and walked away.,

Billy whistled. "But fifty sticks, Maurice! It's almost more'n she'll need, don't you think?"

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And the worthy old sailor chuckled heartily from his throat to the bottom of his waistcoat.,

"An' that's why you throwed it," exclaimed the admiring Maurice. "Gosh, nobody else would'a thought of that.",

Neither Captain Acton nor Miss Acton witnessed anything strange in the absence of Lucy from the breakfast table. She was in the habit of taking these early walks, and would often turn into a cottage whose inmates she well knew and breakfast with the occupants, enjoying more the egg warm from the nest, the home-cured rasher of bacon, the pot of home-made jam, the slice of brown bread and sweet butter, the bowl of new milk, or the cup of tea which on such grand occasions would be introduced by her humble friends, than the choicest dainties which her father's cook could send to the breakfast table at Old Harbour House.,

"Faith and who else ma'am," replied Harry. "The ould burrud wid new feathers is ut. Faith ut's manny a year since I laid these duds carefully by, thinkin' I'd be wearin' 'em niver ag'in until a day whin I'd not be knowin' ut. But, Mistress Wilson, ma'am, ut's other thoughts have been mine since I quit the dhrink. Pl'ase God but duty is iver clearer wid clearer understandin' and so ut is. Some day afore I die I'll glimpse me own skies and smell the burnin' peat, and if that is to be mine thin must I live me life clane here and do me duty like an Irishman av birth. So, ma'am, it's off I am to visit the holy Father at Palmyria."