pair of sea-boots were to be left in the barn, and that not a word was to be said to a living soul about them.
"Good-bye," said Mona, holding out her hand.
It was not at first that Danny realized what he ought to do when a lady offered her hand. Having taken it, he did not quite know what it was right to do next. So he held it a moment and lifted his eyes to hers. "Good-bye, Danny," she said, and there was a tremor in her voice.
She had gone—Danny never knew how. He walked a little farther with Ruby, who pranced and sang. On the way home he stopped and repeated to himself in a whisper, "Mona, Mona, Mona." He looked at his hand. It was coarse and horny. He lifted it to his lips and kissed it. Then he began to run. Suddenly he stopped, and muttered, "But what for did she want the oil-skins?"
CHAPTER IX.
THE HERRING MEAILLEY.
There was high sport at the Jolly Herrings that night. Christian Mylrea was there, more than half ashamed of his surroundings, but too amiably irresolute, as usual, to imperil by absence from this annual gathering his old reputation for good-fellowship.
"Aw, the gentleman he is, isn't he? And him straight from Oxford College, too."
"What's that they're sayin'? Oxford College? Och, no; not that at all."
