"Why, who else but that gel of Kinvig's, Mona Cregeen," said Kisseck.
Christian dropped his herring.
"Aw, well," said Tommy Tear, "d'ye mane that gal on the brew with the widda, and the wee craythur?"
"Yes, the little skite and the ould sukee, the mawther," said Kisseck.
Davy Cain pretended to come to Danny's relief.
"And a raal good gel, anyhow, Danny," he said in a patronizing way.
"Amazin' thick they are. Oh, ay, Danny got to the lee of her—takes a cup of tay up there, and the like of that."
"Aw, well, it isn't raisonable but the lad should be coortin' some gel now," said Davy.
"What's that?" shouted Kisseck, dropping the banter rather suddenly. "What, and not a farthin' at him? And owin' me a fortune for the bringin' up?"
"No matter, Bill, and don't ride a man down like a maintack. One of these fine mornings Danny will be payin' his debt to you with the fore-topsail."
"And look at him there," said Tommy Tear, reaching round Davy Cain to prod Danny in the ribs—"look at him pretendin' he never knows nothin'."
But the big tears were near to toppling out of Danny's eyes. He got up, and leaving his unfinished breakfast, began to climb the hatchway.
"Aw, now, look at that," cried Tommy Tear, with affected solemnity.
Davy Cain followed Danny, put an arm round his waist, and tried to draw him back. "Don't mind the
