"Keep a corner for the Meailley at the 'Three Legs,'" said Dan. There was to be a herring breakfast that morning at the "Three Legs of Man," to celebrate the opening of the fishing season. "You'll come, Ewan, eh?" The young parson shook his head. Dan was in great spirits, to which the spirits he had imbibed contributed a more than common share. Ewan saw the too familiar light of dangerous mischief dancing in Dan's eyes, and made twenty attempts to keep the conversation within ordinary bounds of seriousness. But Dan was not to be restrained, and breaking away into the homespun--a sure indication that the old Adam was having the upper hand--he forthwith plunged into some chaff that was started by the mate, Ned Teare, at Davy Fayle's expense. "Aw, ye wouldn't think it's true, would ye, now?" said Ned, with a wink at Dan and a "glime" at Davy. "And what's that?" said Dan, with another "glime" at the lad. "Why, that the like o' yander is tackin' round the gels." "D'ye raely mane it?" said Dan, dropping his herring and lifting his eyes. Ewan coughed with some volume, and said, "There, there, Dan--there, there." "Yes, though, and sniffin' and snuffin' abaft of them astonishin'," Ned Teare put it again. "Aw, well, well, well," said Dan, turning up afresh the whites of his eyes. There was not a sign from Davy; he broke his potato more carefully, and took both hands and both eyes to strip away its jacket. "Yes, yes, the craythur's doing somethin' in the spooney line," said Billy Quilleash; "him as hasn't the hayseed out of his hair yet." "Aw, well," said Dan, pretending to come to Davy's relief, "it isn't raisonable but the lad should be coortin' some gel now." "What's that?" shouted Quilleash, dropping the banter rather suddenly. "What, and not a farthing at him? And owin' me fortune for the bringin' up." "No matter, Billy," said Dan, "and don't ride a man down like a main-tack. One of these fine mornings Davy will be payin' his debt to you with the foretopsail." Davy's eyes were held very low, but it was not hard to see that they were beginning to fill. "That will do, Dan, that will do," said Ewan. The young parson's face had grown suddenly pale, but Dan saw nothing of that. "And look at him there," said Dan, reaching round Ewan to prod Davy in the ribs--"look at him there, pretendin' he never knows nothin'." The big tears were near to toppling out of Davy's eyes. He could have borne the chaff from any one but Dan. "Dan," said Ewan, with a constrained quietness, "stop it; I can't stand it much longer." At that Davy got up from the table, leaving his unfinished breakfast, and began to climb the hatchways. "Aw, now, look at that," said Dan, with affected solemnity, and so saying, and not heeding the change in Ewan's manner, Dan got up too and followed Davy out, put an arm round the lad's waist, and tried to draw him back. "Don't mind the loblolly-boys, Davy veg," he said, coaxingly. Davy pushed him away with an angry word.