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Two pounds cheese.,"But you haven't took yourn!" cried Maurice.,CHAPTER XXIV BILLY TO THE RESCUE,"No ship of mine departs without my heart accompanying her," said Captain Acton. "I believe I am bound to go in one of them to the West Indies some day or other, but not whilst there's an enemy's cruiser to be met with in the circle of the horizon.",Mrs. Wilson pushed back her chair and arose from the table. "Now, then, Willium, you get along out. I've got a whole lot to do afore supper-time, and I guess maybe you best run across and ask Mrs. Keeler to come over and help me. You kin go 'round and give the invites to your friends.","I should like to go," she said at length, "if you are sure you don't think I will be a bother.","That won't hurt him; he's always tired anyway," rejoined Billy. "But we'd best go.","Hully gee! ol' feller, look!" Maurice extracted the wand and held it up before the animal's gaze. "Oh, don't put your ears back an' grin at me. I ain't goin' to use it on you," laughed the lad. "Look! This is what I'm goin' to do with that ol' bruiser's pointer." From a trouser's pocket he extracted a jackknife. "Now horsie, jest you watch me close. The next time he makes a cut at you he's goin' to get the surprise of his life. There, see? I've cut it through. Now I'll jest rub on some of this here clay to hide the cut. There you be! If I know anythin' 'bout seasoned hickory that pointer's goin' to split into needles right in his hand. I hope they go through his ol' fist and clinch on t'other side.","Oh, pray continue, sir! Pray continue!" cried Miss Acton in a voice that was almost husky with the hysteric quality of her emotions.,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.,"I've heard," said Mr. Johnston. "His was a brave and commendable act.","Look ye," he cried, holding it aloft. "The fairies' magic arrer, ut is, an' ut niver fails t' fall on the spot where the treasure lies hidden. Foind Scroggie's buried money ut would have long ago if ut wasn't fer the ould man's spirrut that roams the grove. As I told ye afore, ut's no charm ag'in the spirruts av the departed, as yon grave-yard rabbit's fut is.".