Presently the dog went out to them, and, in default of its master, became a centre of excited interest. It was an old creature, with a settled look of age, and a gravity of expression that seemed to say he had got over the follies of youth, and was now reserved and determined to keep the peace. His back was curved in as if a cart-wheel had gone over his spine, he had gigantic ears, a stump of a tail, a coat thin and prickly like the bristles of a pig, but white and spotted with brown. “Lord save us! a queer dog, though--what's his breed at all?” said one; and then a resounding voice came from the kitchen doorway, saying-- “A sort of a Manxman crossed with a bat. Got no tail to speak of, but there's plenty of ears at him. A handy sort of a dog, only a bit spoiled in his childhood. Not fit for much company anyway, and no more notion of dacent behaviour than my ould shoe. Down, Dempster, down.” It was Pete. He was greeted with loud welcomes, and soon filled the room all round with the steaming odour of spirits and water. “You've the Manx tongue at you still, Mr. Quilliam,” said Jonaique; “and you're calling the dog Dempster; what's that for at all?” “For sake of the ould island, Mr. Jelly, and for the straight he's like Dempster Mylrea when he's a bit crooked,” said Pete. “The old man's dead, sir,” said John the Clerk. “You don't say?” said Pete. “Yes, though; the sun went down on him a Wednesday. The drink, sir, the drink! I've been cutting a sod of his grave to-day.” “And who's to be Dempster now?” asked Pete. “Who are they putting in for it?” “Well,” said John the Clerk, “they're talking and talking, and some's saying this one and others that one; but the most is saying your ould friend Philip Christian.” “I knew it--I always said it,” shouted Pete; “best man in the island, bar none. Oh, he'll not deceave me.” The wind was roaring in the chimney, and the light was beginning to fail. Pete became restless, and walked to and fro, peering out at intervals by the window that looked on to the road. At this there was some pushing and nudging and indulgent whispering. “It's the girl! Aw, be aisy with the like! Five years apart, be aisy!” “The meadow's white with the gulls sitting together like parrots; what's that a sign of, father?” said Pete. “Just a slant of rain maybe, and a puff of wind,” said Cæsar. “But,” said Pete, looking up at the sky, “the long cat tail was going off at a slant awhile ago, and now the thick skate yonder is hanging mortal low.” “Take your time, sir,” said Cæsar. “No need to send round the Cross Vustha (fiery cross) yet. The girl will be home immadiently.” “It'll be dark at her, though,” said Pete. The company tried to draw him into conversation about the ways of life in the countries he had visited, but he answered absently and jerkily, and kept going to the door. “Suppose there'll be Dempsters enough where you're coming from?” said Jonaique.