Page:Mehalah 1920.djvu/110

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100
MEHALAH

"If you're going to knock, don't. Come in, and make no noise about it. It's very kind. She's out."

The gull made a second assault at Mehalah's foot.

"Kick him," said the face; "don't fear you will hurt him. He is as good as a watch dog. Open the door, and when you are in the hall turn to the right-hand."

Then the pane was slammed to, and Mehalah turned the handle of the front door. She found herself in a narrow passage with a flight of very steep stairs before her, and a door on each hand. Over each of these on a bracket stood a ship fully rigged, with all her sail on.

She entered the room on the right as directed, and found herself in a little parlour with very white walls, and portraits of ships, some in worsted work on canvas, others painted in oils, others again in water-colours, covering the walls.

In the window, half sat, half reclined, an old man, with a scrubby grey head, a pair of very lively eyes, but with a trembling feeble mouth.

He wore very high shirt-collars, exceedingly stiff, and thick folds of black silk round his neck. His blue coat had a high black velvet collar. The little man seemed to draw his head in between his blinkers and beneath his coat-collar, and lose his face in his cravat, then at will to project his head from them, as though he were a tortoise retiring into or emerging from his shell.

As Glory came in, the little wizened face was scarce perceptible, save that the bright eyes peeped and twinkled at her from somewhere in a chaos of black velvet, blue cloth, white linen, and black silk; then all at once the head shot forward, and a cheery voice said, "I can't rise to meet you, Mary," he made at the same time a salutation with his hand, "or I would throw myself at your feet. Glad to see you. How are you, Lizzy, my dear."

"My name is neither Mary nor Lizzy, but Mehalah."

"Let it be Methuselah or Melchisedek, or what you like, it is all one to me. I don't care for the name you give a wine when it is good, I drink it and smack my lips, whether you call it Port, or Tarragona, or Roussillon; and I don't bother about a girl's name. If she is sweet and sunny, and bright and pretty as"—he made a little bow and a great