“Ah!” she said to herself, “Joan Bellamie will be yet awake, what a deal I have to tell the ronyon.” And she slipped out, shutting the door behind her.
CHAPTER VIII
“ANNY, lass, I would speak with thee; wilt harken?”
Hal put the question timidly as he looked across at his sweetheart.
They were alone in the Ship’s kitchen; Hal re-sanded the floor while Anny sat on the window-ledge cleaning a pair of old brass candlesticks. It was four o’clock in the afternoon, and the cold, watery sun shot a few last rays of yellow light over the Island before it sank down behind the mainland. Inside the kitchen it was warm and beginning to get dark, for the fire had been allowed to die down to a few smouldering red and white embers, and it was yet too early to light the dips. Outside in the yard Anny could see her little brother talking to old Gilbot, who had wrapped himself up in a seaman’s jacket, and had stepped out to taste the air.
The old man was fond of children, and Anny sighed with relief as she saw the strange pair—Red still wore his costume of the night before—take hands and after some animated talk walk off together down the road in the direction of the sea, laughing as they went.
Hal made up the fire with logs which he had been drying on the hearth, and crossed the room and stood beside the window-ledge just in front of the girl, before he spoke again.
“Will you harken to me?” he repeated.
Anny looked up, smiling. “Harken to thee, Hal?” she said. “Why, certes, thou needst not look so solemnly; why should I not harken to thee?”
The boy did not speak for a moment but stood fidgeting before her.