ut through
her came the injury to my son." Taffy by this time had no doubt at
all. It was George who poisoned Honoria's ear; George's shame and
Honoria's pride would explain why the whisper had never gone
further; and nothing else would explain.

Did his mother guess this? He believed so at times, but they never
spoke of it.

The lame child was often in the Raymonds' kitchen. Lizzie did not
forbid or resent this. And he liked Humility, and would talk to her
at length while he nibbled one of her dripping-cakes. "People don't
tell the truth," he observed sagely on one of these occasions.
(He pronounced it "troof," by the way.) "_I_ know why we live here.
It's because we're near the sea. My father's on the sea somewhere
looking for us, and grandfather lights the lamp every night to tell
him where we are. One night he'll see it and bring his ship in and
take us all off together."

"Who told you all this?"

"Nobody. People won't tell me nothing (nofing). I has to make it
out in my head."

At times, when his small limbs grew weary (though he never
acknowledged this) he would stretch himself on the short turf of the
headland and lie staring up at the white gulls. No one ever came
near enough to surprise the look which then crept over the child's
face. But Taffy, passing him at a distance, remembered another small
boy, and shivered to remember and compare--

"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

--But how when the boy is a cripple?

One afternoon he was stooping to inspect an obstinate piece of boring
when the man at his elbow said:

"Hullo! edn' that young Joey Pezzack in diffities up there? Blest if
the cheeld won't break his neck wan of these days!"

Taffy caught up a coil of rope, sprang into a boat, and pushed across
to land. "Don't move!" he shouted. At the foot of the cliff he
picked up Joey's crutch and ran at full speed up the path worn by the
workmen. This led him round to the verge ten feet above the ledge
where the child clung white and silent. He looped the rope in a
running noose and lowered it.

"Slip this under your arms. Can you manage, or shall I come down?
I'll come if you're hurt."

"I've twisted my foot. It's all right, now you're come," said the
little man bravely; and slid the rope round himself in the most
business-like way.

"The grass was slipper--" he began, as soon as his feet touched firm
earth: and wi