machine, you mean!” snorted one of the men) must have had more anxious moments than one—many more—if only half the wishes then expressed so frankly on his behalf came true. Mrs. Quin was eloquent for long time; then I suppose her conscience pricked her, for she finished with the following comfortable combination of “pious” with “natural” feeling. “Oh, lave the poor man to God! Isn’t that what my mother advised herself when a mean skunk of a fellow went an’ killed the wan little goat on her, that was all she had, bless her! to feed us childer wid? And widin’ the year, was there wan baste in all that gintlemin’s paddick but had died? There was not. Now!”
The boat meanwhile had been sent out with a kedge anchor, by means of which the Tikirau was soon warped back to a safe position; and this was no sooner accomplished than the engine, of course, started work. It puffed us forth once more into the wind with the greatest good-will, apparently, in the world, and seemed ready to go on for days. But as soon as we were well out, instead of stopping us, I am glad to say the darning-machine got stopped itself, and away with all her might (somehow, one never thought of the engine as being part of her might, or indeed part of her in any way), flew the Tikirau, bounding and dancing, swinging and leaping over the great blue hills of water like a wild thing rejoicing in liberty.
That afternoon we were able at last to land the loudly thankful Quins—Mrs. Quin’s expressions having a deeper depth than we understood at the time, for among her various bundles and kits she was slyly conveying ashore with her (“convey, the
