"Not Mr. Coristine?"
"No, of course not."
"My I sy that it wasn't Mr. Coristine?"
"O yes, don't let them think any bad things about Eugene, poor boy."
"Good morning, Miss Carmichael," said Mr. Bigglethorpe, or rather he bawled it; "will you come here a minute, please?"
Miss Carmichael gladly skipped down, leaving her companion a prey to the gentleman of the morocco slippers.
"I want to clear our friend, Mr. Coristine, of a suspicion which you may not have shired," said the fisherman. "He didn't mike that little piece of poetry on Mr. Lamb that Marjorie and the other children sang yesterday morning."
"Thank you, Mr. Bigglethorpe; I am very glad to hear it."
"Nasty pig!" said Marjorie to herself; "she drove Eugene away all the same."
Meanwhile, Mr. Lamb was conversing with Miss Du Plessis.