Doctor's cottage one
evening after tea--though this was no novelty, for he was always coming
over to the cottage after tea, when Vince was not going over to Sir
Francis Ladelle's quaint, semi-fortified house, which had stood there
for hundreds of years, being repaired by its various occupants, but very
little altered. In fact, when the little island was for sale, many
years before this story commences, and the baronet became the purchaser,
he was so pleased with the old place that he determined to keep up the
traditions of the past, in spite of low ceilings, dark windows, and what
Mike described to Vince as "the jolly old ghosts," which, being
interpreted, meant rats.

So Mike came over one evening, after Vince had eaten a tremendous meal,
and the two lads went out for a stroll to the cliff edge, where there
was always something to see, returning after dusk by the light of the
moon and glowworms, of which there were abundance. Then Vince had to
see Mike up to the gates of the old house; and, to make things straight,
Mike said he would walk back a few yards with him, the few yards being
so elastic that they stretched out to five hundred, more or less.

At last Vince reached home and had his supper, which had been put out
for him, and when he had finished, found that the sea air and exercise
had made him ravenous.

"I must have something else to eat," he said to himself, and he was
going into the parlour to speak upon this important subject to Mrs
Burnet; but as he reached the door he could hear her pleasant voice, and
he knew what was going on, though he could not see through the panels.
For the picture rose plainly before his mind's eye of his father lying
back in his easy chair, tired out with his round of the island and
gardening, while by the light of a pair of mould candles--

_What_? You don't know what mould candles are? The happier you!
People did fifty years ago, and they were largely used by those who
could not afford wax or spermaceti; and they did what Vince heard the
Doctor do from time to time--took up the old-fashioned, scissor-like
snuffers from their plated tray, snuffed the candles, and laid them back
with a sharp click. And let me tell you that there was an art in
snuffing a candle which required practice and a steady hand. For if you
of the present generation of boys who live in the days of gas, electric
lights, spirit lamps, and candles ingeniously made after the analytical
experiments of