ed Jason was
there, too, glooming as black as a thundercloud, and itching to do
battle with somebody if only a fit case would offer.

Adam himself did not show his face. He was ashamed--he was
crushed--he was humiliated--but not for the reason attributed to him
by common report. Alone he sat, and smoked and smoked, in the room at
the back, from whence he had seen Greeba and Michael Sunlocks that
day when they walked side by side into the paved yard, and when he
said within himself, "Now, God grant that this may be the end of all
parting between them and me." He was thinking of that day now: that
it was very, very far away. He heard the clatter of feet below, and
the laughter of the bidders and the wondrous jests of the facetious
auctioneer.

When the work was over, and the house felt quiet and so, so empty,
Greeba came in to him, with eyes large and red, and kissed him
without saying a word. Then he became mighty cheerful all at once,
and bade her fetch out her account books, for they had their own
reckoning yet to make, and now was the time to make it. She did as
she was bidden, and counted up her father's debts, with many a tear
dropping over them as if trying to blot them out forever. And
meanwhile he counted up his half-year's smart money, and the pile of
silver and gold that had come of the sale. When all was reckoned,
they found they would be just fifteen pounds to the good, and that
was now their whole fortune.

Next morning there came a great company of the poor, and stood in
silence about the house. They knew that Adam had nothing to give, and
they came for nothing; they on their part had nothing to offer, and
they had nothing to say; but this was their way of showing sympathy
with the good man in his dark hour.

The next morning after that old Adam said to Greeba,

"Come, girl, there is only one place in the island that we have a
right to go to, and that's Lague. Let's away."

And towards Lague they set their faces, afoot, all but empty-handed,
and with no one but crazy old Chalse A'Killey for company.

CHAPTER II.

HOW GREEBA WAS LEFT WITH JASON.

It was early summer, and the day was hot; there had been three weeks
of drought, and the roads were dusty. Adam walked with a stout
blackthorn stick, his flaccid figure sometimes swaying for poise and
balance, and his snow-white hair rising gently in the soft breeze
over his tender old face, now ploughed so deep with labor and sorrow.
Chalse was