"Here, Will," said the talkative fisherman, shaking Willie Sanderson, who had been asleep. "Can't you let this gentleman and his man have a couple of beds?"
Willie rubbed his eyes and nodded.
"I dare say," he said, staring about him.
Then the signor rose, bowed all round, and took his leave, followed by Stumpy, with Willie Sanderson to lead the way.
Slowly they tramped down to the Sandersons' cottage.
Willie opened the door and beckoned to the visitors to enter.
As they entered the small sanded room a lad rose from a chair and hobbled forward on a crutch.
He was a frail boy with a pale, intellectual, and mournful face.
Willie nodded to him.
"Jamie, these gentlemen want a bed; show 'em upstairs to the best room."