“Yes, come in, my dear,” cried Hogan at this moment--“come in, Master Harry; there’s none here but your own kith and kin, and here’s a nice little wife, or a sweetheart, for you.” As he said this, he drew from the doorway, where he lingered, the boy, who now came forward with a shamefaced and reluctant look. “There they stand,” said the old man, as he placed them side by side, “and I defy the world to show me a purtier couple.” The boy turned a long and steady look at the girl--something for the beauty, and something, too, doubtless, there was for the ornaments that heightened it--and she bore the scrutiny without a shadow of constraint; but there was even more, for, as he continued to stare at her, she smiled half superciliously, and said at last, with a faint smile, “I hope I’m not so ugly that I frighten you!” There was just that pertness in the speech that stood for wit with the company, and they laughed loud and heartily at what they fancied to be a repartee. “Did ye ever see a purtier--did ye ever see as purty?” cried old Hogan. “Yes I did, this very evening, on board of that schooner there. There’s one ten times as handsome, and she is a lady, too.” Insolent as were the words, the look and manner with which he gave them were far more so. It was like the speech of a proud noble to his vassals, who actually derived a sense of pleasure in the measure of outrage he could dare to mete out to them. The boy turned his haughty stare around at each in turn, as though to say, “Who is there to gainsay me?” and then left the place. “Isn’t that a worthy twig of the ould tree?” cried old Hogan, passionately. “The world hasn’t done with the Luttrells yet! But I know well who puts these thoughts in the child’s head. It’s Molly Ryan, and no other. Taching him, as she calls it, to remember he’s a gentleman.” The company endorsed all the indignation of the speaker, but, soon recalled to more practical thoughts, proceeded to nail down the trunks and boxes, and prepared to carry them down to the seaboard. CHAPTER VI. ON THE SEA-SHORE AT NIGHT Towards the evening of the same day a light breeze from the westward sprang up, and Mr. Crab argued that there was little use in waiting any longer to refit, and proposed to sail with the tide. By keeping along close to shore he learned that the ebb would take him well out to sea before midnight. Vyner, therefore, gare orders that the yacht should lie-to after she rounded the extreme promontory of the island, and send in a boat there to take him off, thus giving him one last ramble over a spot it was scarcely possible he would ever revisit.