Well, we turned round all and looked on him that had spoke, but in good sooth not one of us knew the bright fresh face, until Mother cries out,—“Ned! Ned, my boy!” and then, I warrant you, there was some kissing and hand-shaking, ay, more than a little.
“Fleet ahoy!” saith Ned. “Haven’t seen so many crafts in the old harbour, for never so long.”
“Why, Ned, hast thou forgot ’tis Twelfth Night?” says Milly.
“So ’tis,” quoth Ned. “Shall I dance you a hornpipe?”
So after all the greeting was done, Ned sat down next to Mother: but we gat no further a-loving of our loves that night, for all wanted to hear Ned, that is but now come back from the Spanish seas: and divers tales he told that were rare taking, and one or twain that did make my flesh creep: but truly his sea-talk is rare hard to conceive. When all at once saith Ned:—
“Have you a ghost cruising these parts?”
“Eh, Ned, hast thou seen her?” cries Austin Park.
“Who’s her?” saith Ned. “I’ve seen a craft with a white hull and all sails up, in the copse nigh old Nanny’s.”
“Couldst thou make it thy conveniency to speak English, Ned?” saith Father. “That is the language we talk in Derwentdale.”
Ned laughed, and saith, “I’ll endeavour myself; but ’tis none so easy to drop it. Well, who or what is it?”