ause, for it was the most
pathetic sight she had ever looked upon. It was the face of a lad of two
or three and twenty, but drawn in lines so painful, so hollowed, so
piteous, that fear melted into compassion at the sight. The dark eyes
that stared upwards had a frightened look mingled with a certain
defiance. He stood barefooted on the edge of the cliff, clenching and
unclenching his bony hands, with the air of a culprit awaiting sentence.

There was a decided pause before his victim spoke. She found some
difficulty in grappling with the situation, but she had no intention of
turning her back upon it. She felt it must be tackled with resolution.

After a moment she spoke, with as much sternness as she could muster,
"Why did you throw those stones?"

He backed at the sound of her voice, and she had an instant of sickening
fear, for there was a drop of twenty feet behind him on the shingle. But
he must have seen her look, for he stopped himself on the brink, and
stood there doggedly.

"Don't stand there!" she said quickly. "I'm not going to hurt you."

He lowered his head, and looked at her from under drawn brows. "Yes, you
are," he said gruffly. "You're going to beat me with that stick."

The shrewdness of this surmise struck her as not without humour. She
smiled, and, turning, flung the stick straight down to the path below.
"Now!" she said.

He came forward, not very willingly, and stood within a couple of yards
of her, still looking as if he expected some sort of chastisement.

She faced him, and the last of her fear departed. Though he was so
terribly deformed that he looked like some dreadful beast reared on its
hind legs there was that about the face, sullen though it was, that
stirred her deepest feelings.

She did her best to conceal the fact, however. "Tell me why you threw
those stones!" she said.

"Because I wanted to hit you," he returned with disconcerting
promptitude.

She looked at him steadily. "How very unkind of you!" she said.

His eyes gleamed with a smouldering resentment. "No, it wasn't. I didn't
want you there. Dicky is coming soon, and he likes it best when there is
no one there."

She noticed that though there was scant courtesy in his speech, it was by
no means the rough talk of the fisher-folk. It fired her curiosity. "And
who is Dicky?" she said.

"Who are you?" he retorted rudely.

She smiled again. "You are not very polite, are you? But I don't
mind telling you if you wan