"'I wish they wouldn't,' said the Bishop, taking the handkerchief from his lips and speaking (as I thought) rather peevishly.
"'It's a weariful tune.'
"'Is it? Now I don't know anything about music. It's the words that make me feel wisht.'
"'And now,' said I, 'you've eased my soul of the curiosity that has been vexing it for twenty-four hours. Your voice told you were English; but there was something in it besides—something almost rubbed out, if I may say so, by your training for the ministry. I was wondering what part of England you hailed from, and I meant to find out without asking. You'll observe that as yet I don't even know your name. But Cornwall's your birthplace.'
"'I suppose,' he answered, smiling, 'you've only heard me called 'the Bishop.' Yes, you're quite right. I come from the north of Cornwall—from Port Isaac; and my name's Penno—John Penno. I used to be laughed at for it at the Training College, and for my Cornish talk. They said it would be a hindrance to me in the ministry, so I worked hard to overcome it.'
"'I know Port Isaac. At least, I once spent a couple of days there.'
"'Ah?' He turned on me eagerly—with a sob, almost. 'You will have seen my folks, maybe? My father's a fisherman there—Hezekiah Penno—Old Ki, he's always called: everyone knows him.'
"I shook my head. 'The only fisherman I knew at all was called Tregay. He took me out after the pollack one day in his boat, the Little Mercy.'
"'That will be my mother's brother Israel. He named the boat after a sister of mine. She's grown up now and married, and settled at St. Columb. This is wonderful! And how was Israel wearing when you saw him?'
"'You have later news of him than I can give. I am speaking of ten years ago.'