"'Cos there's a gale a-getting up as'll perwent you, young freshwater," replied the tar. \" He said, as he threw his trash into the can on the way out. If only Gerald would come. A tall, clean-shaven man came out and walked rapidly through the room, exchanging greetings right and left, but evidently anxious to avoid being detained. " "Unpossible, master," rejoined Ben; "the tide's running down like a mill-sluice, and the wind's right in our teeth. ’ Pierced to the heart by the poignancy of this utterance, Gerald could neither move nor speak. "Ah!" exclaimed Sir James. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces.
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