Some talk of the young man then ensued between his father and Kinvig. It transpired that Christian had had a somewhat questionable career--was his father's only son, and had well-nigh ruined the old man with debts contracted during a mysterious absence of six years. Christian had just returned home, and Mylrea Balladhoo, stern on the outside, tender at the core, loving his son as the one thing left to him to love, had forgiven everything--disgrace, ingratitude, and impoverishment--and taken back the prodigal without a word. And, in truth, there was something so winsome in the young fellow's reckless, devil-may-care indifference that he got at the right side of people's affections in spite of themselves. Only those who come close to this type of character can recognise the rift of weakness or wilfulness, or it may be of selfishness, that runs through the fair vein of so much good-nature. And if Mylrea Balladhoo saw nothing, who then should complain? Now, Kerruish Kinvig was just as fond of Christian as anybody else, but that was no just cause and impediment why he should hold his peace as to the young man's manifold weaknesses. So it was-- "Look here, Balladhoo. I've something to say about that fine son of yours, and it's middling strange too." "Drop it, Kerruish," muttered Mylrea. "So I will, but it's into your ear I'll drop it. Do you know he's hanging round one of my net-makers--eh?" "You're fond of a spell at the joking, Kerruish, but in a general way, you know, a man doesn't like to look like a fool. You've got too much fun in you, Kerruish; that's _your_ fault, and I've always said so." There was a twinkle in the old man's eye, but it went off like summer lightning. "Who is she?" he asked, in another tone. "Mona Cregeen they're calling her," said Kinvig. "What is she?" "Don't I tell you--one of my net-makers!" thundered Kinvig. "Who are her people? Where does she come from? What do you know about her? What has Christian had to say to her--" "Hold on; that's a middling tidy lot to begin with," shouted Kinvig. Then it was explained that Mona Cregeen was a young woman of perhaps three-and-twenty, who had recently come to Peel from somewhere in the south of the island, accompanied by her aged mother and little sister, a child of five, closely resembling her. Jemmy, the gardener, returned to say that Christian was not at home; left an hour ago; said he would be back before bedtime. "Ah! it's the 'Jolly Herrings' he's off to," said Kinvig. The "Jolly Herrings" was a low hovel of an inn down in the town. "As I say, you've a fine feeling for the fun, Kerruish," said Mylrea; "Jemmy, put on your coat quick. You have to carry a message to the harbor-master. It can't wait for Master Christian."