"'We didn't get much more than—jus' one good look at the little fellow—afore he left us.'
"When I took Tim Mull aboard the Call Again that night," the tale ran on, "'twas all clear above. What fog had been hangin' about had gone off with a little wind from the warm inland places. The lights o' Harbor—warm lights—gleamed all round about Black hills: still water in the lee o' the rocks. The tinkle of a bell fell down from the slope o' Lookout; an' a maid's laugh—sweet as the bell itself—come ripplin' from the shadows o' the road. Stars out; the little beggars kep' winkin' an' winkin' away at all the mystery here below jus' as if they knowed all about it an' was sure we'd be surprised when we come t' find out.
"'Tumm, ol' shipmate,' says Tim Mull, 'I got a lie on my soul.'
"''Tis a poor place for a burden like that.'
"'I'm fair wore out with the weight of it.'
"'Will you never be rid of it, man?'
"'Not an I keeps on bein' a man.'
"'So, Tim?'
"He put his hand on my shoulder. 'Is you a friend o' Mary's?' says he.
"''Tis a thing you must know without tellin'.'