"Lem's a bad man, Lon," replied Mrs. Cronk, "and ye be one, too, if ye be my own son, and Flea's your own flesh and blood, and I like her. It would be a good thing if ye let her stay to hum while I be a livin'; and I mean what I say, and I'm yer mammy, and that's the truth!" "Mammy or no mammy," answered Cronk sullenly, "Flea goes to Lem, and ye makes her a pork cake, which she can hog down at one gulp, for all I care--the damn brat! I say it, and Lem says it. He'll dry her tears after she's left hum, I'm a guessin'!" Seeing the futility of arguing the question, Mrs. Cronk placed the fish and beans on his plate and, with a shrill cry to Flea and Flukey, sat down to eat. * * * * * As he stumbled along the rocks to the scow, Lem Crabbe uttered dark threats against the girl who had bitten him. Her temper and the spontaneous deed that had marked his face did not lessen his longing to call her his woman, nor did it take the fever of desire from his veins. It had strengthened his passion to such a degree that he now determined to permit nothing to interfere with his plans. For at least three years he had lived on the promise of Lon Cronk that he should have the girl for weal or woe. Six months before he had offered Lon anything within his power to set the day of Flea's coming to him nearer; but the thief had shaken his head with the thought that Flea as a girl would not suffer through indignities as she would as a woman. He felt no remorse for the other girl that he had ruined so many years back; but he kept out of the way of the crazy woman who sometimes crossed his path. Tonight Lem entered the living-room of his boat, muttering an oath that ended in a groan, dropped the basket on the table, and struck a match. He was touching it to the candle, when a sound in the corner startled him. He turned as he finished his task and saw the brilliant eyes of Scraggy's cat as the animal sat perched on the woman's shoulder. The presence of Screech Owl surprised him so that he did not move for a moment, and she spoke first: "I hain't seed ye in such a long time, Lem, that I thought I'd come and let ye see my new kitty. He ain't but two years old." Lem took a long breath. At first he thought that this must be Scraggy's wraith come to haunt him after some horrible lonely death. He had far rather deal with a living Scraggy than a dead one, and at once recovered his composure. "I hain't sent for ye, have I?" he asked, hanging up his coat. "And if I ain't sent for ye, then ye needn't be sneakin' round." "I've a lot to say to ye," sighed Scraggy mournfully, "and I thought as how the night was better than the day. It's dark now." "Then ye'd better trot hum," put in Lem, "if ye don't want another beatin'." "I ain't goin' to get no beatin' tonight," assured the woman, throwing one arm over the bristling cat, "'cause I comed to tell ye somethin'." Lem turned on her sharply; for Scraggy seemed to speak sanely.