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Two mornings following the day on which Mr Short had proposed Mr Lawrence's health, old Mr Greyquill rose from his chair at his office table, and said to his clerk in the brown wig, who sat within eyeshot at another table in the adjacent room, that he was going to collect his rents at Greyquill's Buildings, and that he would not be back before half-past[Pg 132] twelve. He never looked so white as he did this morning. His white hair seemed to rest like a cloud upon his head and shoulders. His eyebrows bore so strong a resemblance to white mice that no one could have overlooked the similitude, particularly as each eyebrow flourished over the bridge of the nose a few little dark hairs which resembled tails. His waistcoat was white, not having come from the wash above three days, and his stockings were white.,

"By George!" cried the big man, slapping his friend's knee. "There's a boy for you, Doctor. Why, sir," addressing Stanhope, "not one youngster in a thousand could have done what he did. When he came to us our boat was all but swamped. We had given up. My friend here was utterly helpless with the cold and I was little better. And then he came riding close in like a mere straw on the waves and something flashed past me and fell with a bump against our boat-seat. 'Bale,' he screeched, and I picked up the can he had thrown us and bale I did for all I was worth. Then he came shooting back. 'You got to get out of that trough,' he shouted. 'Throw your painter loose, so's I can grab it as I pass, and I'll straighten your bow to take the seas.'",

In about ten minutes after Paul had made his report, Mr Lawrence told him to knock on Miss Acton's cabin door and enter. This time the door swung to and fro, and Mr Lawrence, who had turned in his seat to follow the steward's movements, saw Miss Acton upon all fours upon the deck with her face close to the tray, as though she was taking up the food with her mouth. A swing of the vessel hove the door to its latch, and hid the extraordinary picture.,

"No, but there's somethin' I ought'a tell you, I guess," he answered. "I've jest come from old Swanson's boardin' house, at the foot. Mr. Maddoc an' the specialist doctor are goin' to leave there an' stay at teacher's, as you likely know?"

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It has been said that Old Harbour House stood. The house takes its place as a beauty of the past. On Christmas Eve 1832, fire reduced it to a few blackened walls. All through the long night the flames made a wild, grand show; sea and land were illuminated for leagues and leagues. Out of the ashes of the beautiful building sprang that commonplace phoenix, the local poet, who celebrated the one tradition of Old Harbour Town in a copy of rhymes, of which the first verse should be found imprinted on the title-page of this book.,

"When you have cleared this table, go forward and tell the cook to cut a plate of the most delicate beef and chicken sandwiches he can contrive. Get a bottle of red wine and a glass, and be ready to carry the refreshments to the lady when I've left her.",

"Down, ma'am! cease your clatter!" cried[Pg 22] Captain Acton to the terrier, whilst the Admiral saluted the young lady with a bow as full of homage as he would have conceded to royalty. "Where are you bound to?",

"Glory be! It's find ye alone I do," he spoke in rich Irish brogue. "It's trill ye a chune I did from the copse, yonder, so's to soften the hard heart of ye, Caleb. It's dhry I am as a last-year's chip, an' me little jug do be pinin' fer a refillin'."