ch her. I couldn't think upon no
better way."

"You mean to tell me you have been pelting that poor brute all down
the lane?"

"I couldn't think upon no better way," the seaman repeated wistfully,
almost plaintively. "She's what you might call sensitive to stones."

"Intelligent beast!" commented Mr. Fett. "And I bought that mare
only six months ago!" (In truth my father had found the poor
creature wandering the roads and starving, cast off by her owner as
past work, and had purchased her out of mere humanity for thirty
shillings.)

"But what business have you to be driving my cart and horses?" he
demanded. "And what's the meaning of these stones you're carting?"

"Ballast, your honour."

"Ballast?"

"I don't know how much of it'll ever arrive at this rate," confessed
the seaman, dropping the handful of flints and scratching his head.
"Tis buying speed at a terrible cost of jettison. But Cap'n Pomery's
last order to me was to make haste about it, if we're to catch
to-morrow's tide."

"Captain Pomery sent you for these stones?"

"Why, Lord love your honour, a vessel can't discharge two dozen
Papist monks and cattle and implements to correspond without wantin'
_something_ in their place. Nice flat stones, too, the larger-sized
be, and not liable to shift in a sea-way."

But here another strange noise drew our eyes up the lane, as an old
man in a smock-frock--a pensioner of the estate, and by name John
Worthyvale--came hobbling round the corner and down the hill towards
us, using his long-handled road hammer for a staff and uttering
shrill tremulous cries of rage.

"Vengeance, Sir John! Vengeance for my l'il heap o' stones!"

"Why, Worthyvale, what's the matter?" asked my father, soothingly.

"My l'il heap o' stones, Sir John; my poor l'il heap o' stones!
What's to become o' me, master? Where will your kindness find a
bellyful for me, if these murderin' seamen take away my l'il heap o'
stones?"

My father laid a hand on the old man's shoulder.

"Captain Pomery wants them for ballast, Worthyvale. You understand?
It appears he can find none so suitable.''

"No, I _don't_ understand!" exclaimed the old fellow, fiercely.
"This has been a black week for me, Sir John. First of all my
darter's youngest darter comes and tells me she've picked up with a
man. Seems 'twas only last year she was runnin' about in short
frocks; but, dang it! the time must ha' slipped away somehow whilst
I've a-sat hamm