Part 44 (2/2)

”Goodness me!” said Nancy, ”is the man for buying frocks for a Mormon?”

”But you'll be empty, boy. Put the crow down and the griddle on, Nancy,”

said Grannie. ”We'll have cakes. Cakes? Coorse I said cakes. Get me the cloth and I'll lay it myself. The cloth, I'm saying, woman. Did you never hear of a tablecloth? Where is it? Aw, dear knows where it is now! It's in the parlour; no, it's in the chest on the landing; no, it's under the sheets of my own bed. Fetch it, bogh.”

”Will I bring you a handful of gorse, mother?” said Caesar.

”Coorse you will, and not stand chattering there. But I'm laving you dry, Pete. Is it ale you'll have, or a drop of hard stuff? You'll wait for Kate? Now I like that. There's some life at these totallers. 'Steady abroad?' How dare you, Nancy Joe? You're a deal too clever. Of course he's been steady abroad--steady as a gun.”

”But Kate,” said Pete, tramping the sanded floor, ”is she changed at all?”

”Aw, she's a woman now, boy,” said Grannie.

”Bless my soul!” said Pete.

”She was looking a bit white and narvous one while there, but she's sprung out of it fresh and bright, same as the ling on the mountains.

Well, that's the way with young women.”

”I know,” said Pete. ”Just the break of the morning with the darlings.”

”But she's the best-looking girl on the island now, Pete,” said Nancy Joe.

”I'll go bail on it,” cried Pete.

”Big and fine and rosy, and fit for anything.”

”Bless my heart!”

”You should have seen her at the Melliah; it was a trate.”

”G.o.d bless me!”

”Sun-bonnet and pink frock and tight red stockings, and straight as a standard rase.”

”Hould your tongue, woman,” shouted Pete. ”I'll see herself first, and I'm dying to do it.”

Caesar came back with the gorse; Nancy fed the fire and Grannie stirred the oatmeal and water. And while the cakes were baking, Pete tramped the kitchen and examined everything and recognised old friends with a roar.

”Bless me! the same place still. There's the clock on the shelf, with the scratch on its face and the big finger broke at the joint, and the lath--and the peck--and the whip--you've had it new corded, though----”

”'Sakes, how the boy remembers!” cried Grannie.

”And the white rumpy” (the cat had leapt on to the dresser out of the reach of Pete's dog, and from that elevation was eyeing him steadfastly), ”and the slowrie--and the kettle--and the poker--my gracious, the very poker----”

”Now, did you ever!” cried Grannie with amazement.

”And--yes--no--it is, though--I'll swear it before the Dempster--that's,” said Pete, picking up a three-legged stool, ”that's the very stool she was sitting on herself in the fire-seat in front of the turf closet. Let me sit there now for the sake of ould times gone by.”

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