“Fresh scenes, fresh society; out of the island, by preference.” “I'm willing.” “She'll come back another woman.” “I'll put up with the same one,” said Pete; and, while the company laughed, he flung open the door, and cried “Come in!” and half a dozen men who had been waiting outside trooped into the hall. They entered with shy looks because of the presence of great people. “Now for a pull of jough, Nancy,” cried Pete. “Not too much excitement either,” said the doctor, and with that warning he departed. The parson went with him. Philip had slipped out first, unawares to anybody. Grannie carried little Katherine to the kitchen, and bathed her before the fire. Kate was propped up with pillows in the armchair in the corner. Then Nancy brought the ale, and Pete welcomed it with a shout. Cæsar looked alarmed and rose to go. “The drink's your own, sir,” said Pete; “stop and taste it.” But Cæsar couldn't stay; it would scarcely be proper. “You don't christen your first granddaughter every day,” said Pete. “Enjoy yourself while you're alive, sir; you'll be a long time dead.” Cæsar disappeared, but the rest of the company took Pete's counsel, and began to make themselves comfortable. “The last christening I was at was yesterday,” said John the Clerk. “It was Christian Killip's little one, before she was married, and it took the water same as any other child.” “The last christening I was at was my own,” said Black Tom, “when I was made an in inheriter, but I've never inherited yet.” “That's truth enough,” said an asthmatic voice from the backstairs. “Well, the last christening I was at was at Kimberley,” said Pete, “and I was the parzon myself that day. Yes, though, Parzon Pete. And godfather and godmother as well, and the baby was Peter Quilliam, too. Aw, it was no laughing matter at all. There's always a truck of women about a compound, hanging on to the boys like burrs. Dirty little trousses of a rule, but human creatures for all. One of them had a child by somebody, and then she came to die, and couldn't take rest because it hadn't been christened. There wasn't a pazon for fifty miles, anywhere, and it was night-time, too, and the woman was stretched by the camp-fire and sinking. 'What's to be done?' says the men. _I'll_ do it,' says I, and I did. One of the fellows got a breakfast can of water out of the river, and I dipped my hand in it. 'What's the name,' says I; but the poor soul was too far gone for spaking. So I gave the child my own name, though I didn't know the mother from Noah's aunt, and the big chaps standing round bareheaded began to blubber like babies. 'I baptize thee, Peter Quilliam, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, Amen.' Then the girl died happy and aisy, and what for shouldn't she? The words were the same, and the water was the same, and if the hand wasn't as clane as usual, maybe Him that's above wouldn't bother about the diff'rance.”