“Goo’-bye,” said Gilbot, waving his pot. “Come back soon.”
The men laughed and promised.
“The owd devil,” said one man to another as he shut the door behind them. “The owd devil hasn’t been sober these four years.” And they went off laughing.
“What manner of fellow is that they call Black’erchief Dick’?” said Anny, as she collected the empty tankards from the tables.
“A devil,” said one of the men at the fireside.
“Oh!” Anny was not impressed. She had met many strangers who had been described to her as devils, and not one to her mind had lived up to the description.
“Oh!” said Hal, as he piled fresh logs in the open grate. “’Tis only a foreigner, some Spanish dog or other.”
The man who had spoken before shook his head.
“Ah, you be careful, lad. Dick ain’t the chap to make a foe of in a hurry,” he said.
Anny paused for a moment.