“There you are, then, dear lad,” said the old woman, spreading out the drowned man’s clothes; “p’r’aps they are a bit damp yet. And now I must go. There’s what’s left in the bottle, and there’s a fried mackerel and the rest of the loaf. That’ll keep you from starving, and to-morrow night I’ll see if I can’t bring you something better.”
“And you’ll be true to me?”
“Don’t you be afraid of that,” said the old woman quietly, as Harry clasped her arm.
“Why, you are quite wet,” he said.
“Wet! Well, if you’ll tell me how to get in there with the tide pretty high and not be wet I should like to know it. Why, I had hard work to keep the basket out of the water, and one corner did go in.”
“And you’ll have to wade out,” said Harry thoughtfully.
“Well, what of that? How many times have I done the same to get alongside of a lugger after fish? Drop o’ salt water won’t hurt me, Master Harry; I’m too well tanned for that.”
“I seem to cause trouble and pain to all I know,” he said mournfully.
“What’s a drop o’ water?” said the old woman with a laugh. “Here, you keep that lantern up in the corner, so as nobody sees the light. There’s another candle there, and a box o’ matches; and now I’m going. Goodbye, dear lad.”
“Good-bye,” he said, with a shudder; “I trust you, mind.”