“_You_ told me.” “Me! Oi never told a soul—Oi’ll take my Bible oath.” “You told me just a minute ago.” “Ah!” He was appeased. “That may be. But Oi never told you afore—Oi’ll take my oath.” “No, never before, Gran’fer.” There was a pause of peace. Jinny was afraid to stir up the subject for weeks. But her little brain had been busy with the story, and finally taking advantage of a not unfriendly reference to Roger Boldero, she asked: “And was that the last time you saw father, when he was eating lobster with my angel mother in the dead of night?” “Nay, nay, Oi seen lots of ’em both, afore Oi was shet out agen by molloncholy circumstances.” “Ah!” Jinny brightened up. “And did you always go in by the window?” “’Twasn’t in the house: ’twas on board the _Tommy Devil_. And that ain’t got no doorstep.” He laughed gleefully. “Then did you go in by the porthole?” asked Jinny, smiling. “Lord, missie, wherever did ye get that word? Ah, Oi mind me now—you was aboard the Watch Wessel the time we buried poor Pegs. No, dearie, Oi just shinned up the ladder, loight as a bird with that liddle ole oath off my showlders. But Pegs and her one-eyed fool of a pardner never suspicioned naught, for Oi never would set foot on the _Tommy Devil_ except she was layin’ up in coves and cricks where the Gov’ment turned its glass eye—he, he, he! Not that Oi had much stomach for his etarnal brandy—you can’t take a satisfactory swig o’ that and keep your sea-legs—but your feyther he kept a cask o’ beer special for me, and Emma she ’ad allus cold roasts and kickshaws to be washed down with it. Oi reckon Oi was on board with your parents nigh once a month.” “Then what a pity they didn’t invite you on board years before!” “Ay, ’twas a pity. Only none of us ’ad never thought o’ that way out.” “Or that way in,” added Jinny excitedly. “Why, you might have gone to my mother the day after your oath!” The Gaffer sighed. “Mebbe that ’ud only ha’ ruinated your folks quicker. For Oi ain’t been on the lugger a dozen times afore she went down and your feyther was picked up by the revenue cutter, bein’ the onny toime he was took at sea—he, he, he! Thussins there wasn’t no place to meet in, and to goo over Emma’s window-sill was too risky, for Pegs and her friends was allus spyin’ around, and there wasn’t a sharper eye in the Gov’ment than that dirty little Dap’s—when he was off duty.” “But why didn’t they come to see you at Blackwater Hall?” “Nay, they couldn’t do that. That was in my oath too. Never shall they cross _my_ doorstep, neither—Oi’d sworn it on the Book!” “But why didn’t they come in through _our_ window? There’s hardly ever anybody on the common?” “We never thought o’ that, neither.” He heaved a deeper sigh. “Ay, ’twas a pity,” he repeated. That night Jinny caught his eye resting more than once on the vases of dried grass before their casement. “He was a bonkka man, your feyther,” he observed at last. “Wery big-built, and it’s a middlin’ weeny window.”