HAGGART--I am going to toss little Noni so high to-day that I will toss
him up to the clouds. Do you want me to do it? Let us laugh, dear little
sister Mariet. You are exactly like myself. When you stand that way,
it seems to me that I am standing there--I have to rub my eyes. Let us
laugh! Some day I may suddenly mix things up--I may wake up and say to
you: "Good morning, Haggart!"

MARIET--Good morning, Mariet.

HAGGART--I will call you Haggart. Isn't that a good idea?

MARIET--And I will call you Mariet.

HAGGART--Yes--no. You had better call me Haggart, too.

"You don't want me to call you Mariet?" asks Mariet sadly.

The abbot and old Dan appear. The abbot says in a loud, deep voice:

"Here I am. Here I am bringing you a prayer, children. I have just
composed it; it has even made me feel hot. Dan, why doesn't the boy ring
the bell? Oh, yes, he is ringing. The fool--he isn't swinging the
right rope, but that doesn't matter; that's good enough, too. Isn't it,
Mariet?"

Two thin but merry bells are ringing.

Mariet is silent and Haggart answers for her:

"That's good enough. But what are the bells saying, abbot?"

The fishermen who have gathered about them are already prepared to
laugh--the same undying jest is always repeated.

"Will you tell no one about it?" says the abbot, in a deep voice, slily
winking his eye. "Pope's a rogue! Pope's a rogue!"

The fishermen laugh merrily.

"This man," roars the abbot, pointing at Haggart, "is my favourite man!
He has given me a grandson, and I wrote the Pope about it in Latin. But
that wasn't so hard; isn't that true, Mariet? But he knows how to look
at the water. He foretells a storm as if he himself caused it. Gart, do
you produce the storm yourself? Where does the wind come from? You are
the wind yourself."

All laugh approval. An old fisherman says:

"That's true, father. Ever since he has been here, we have never been
caught in a storm."

"Of course it is true, if I say it. 'Pope's a rogue! Pope's a rogue!'"

Old Dan walks over to Khorre and says something to him. Khorre nods his
head negatively. The abbot, singing "Pope's a rogue," goes around the
crowd, throws out brief remarks, and claps some people on the shoulder
in a friendly manner.

"Hello, Katerina, you are getting stout. Oho! Are you all ready? And
Thomas is missing again--this is the second time he has stayed away
from prayer. Anna, you are rather sad--that isn't good. One must live
merri