"Yes," said the diver, looking softly up at Will; "an accident, my lad, and nothing to make a fuss about; but there's some one at home as would have made a fuss about it, and you've done more than save me, my lad; you've saved a poor woman from a broken heart, and six bairns from wanting charity; that's all. Let's shake hands!" He held out his hand to Will in the midst of a strange silence, and held that of the young man with a very strong grip, before sinking back with his head upon a ship's fender, and closing his eyes. "He arn't a bad sort of chap," said Josh softly, as Will drew back; "but I don't hold with a fellow, even if he have just been drowned, coming to life again and calling a boy like you a man. You're wain enough as it is, and you've no call to be. So come along ashore, and get home and change them wet clothes." Will said a word to the chief of the divers about where the lead weights lay, and then stepped over the side to Josh, who was already in the lugger's boat, without letting any one know that he was going. Josh thrust off the boat, let his oar fall with a splash, and Will followed his example; but they were not a dozen yards from the lighter before they were missed, and divers and crew rushed to the side and gave a tremendous cheer. "Here, come back!" cried the skipper; "come back!" "Arn't got time," roared Josh, frowning; and then, as the men cheered again: "Well, of all the gashly fuss as was ever made this is about the worst! Pull hard, my lad, and let's get out of it. I want to go home." "And I want to get warm, Josh," said Will laughing. "I'm glad that poor fellow came round before we left." "Well, I dunno," said Josh, sourly. "Of course you liked it because he called you a man. He ought to have knowed better, at his time o' life. Lor', Will, what a gashly peacock of a chap you would grow if it warn't for me." CHAPTER THREE. PILCHAR' WILL AND THE OLD FOLKS AT HOME. "Been overboard again? Well, I never did see such a boy in my life; never!" "What's the matter, Ruth?" "Matter enough!" came in the same strident voice, in answer to the hoarse gruff inquiry. "There, who spoke to you? Just you get back to your work; and if that pie's burnt again to-day you'll have to leave!" This last was to a heavy-faced simple-looking girl, who, on hearing her mistress's angry voice, had hurried into the passage of Nor'-nor'-west Cottage, Cliftside, and stood in front of the kitchen door, with one end of her apron in her mouth. Amanda Trevor, commonly called Betsey, stepped back into the kitchen, just catching the word "dripping" as she closed the door--a word that excited her curiosity again, but she dared not try to gratify it; and if she had tried she would only have been disappointed on finding that it related to a few drops of water from Will Marion's clothes.