the shockin' notions. Well, well, and do ye raely think a person's got no feelin's? Murder? Aw, well now, well now! I didn't think it of you, Christian, that I didn't."
And Kisseck took a step or two up and down the deck with the air of an injured man.
Just then Crennel, the cook, came up to say breakfast was ready. All hands, save the men at the tiller, went below. A huge dish of herrings and a similar dish of potatoes stood on the table. Each man dipped in with his hands, lifted his herrings onto his plate, ran his fingers from tail to head, swept all the flesh off the fresh fish, and threw away the bare backbone. Such was the breakfast; and while it was being eaten there was much chaff among the men at Danny Fayle's expense. It was—
"Aw, you wouldn't think it's true, would ye now?"
"And what's that?" with a "glime" at Danny.
"Why, that the lek o' yander is tackin' round the gels."
"Do ye raely mane it?"
"Yes, though, and sniffin' and snuffin' abaft of them astonishin'."
"Aw, well, well, well."
Not a sign from Danny.
"Yes, yes, the craythur's doin' somethin' in the spoony line," said Kisseck. "Him as hasn't got the hayseed out of his hair yet."
"And who's the lady, Danny?" asked Christian, with a smile.
Danny was silent.
