“You're like Glory herself in that though—you don't remember your mother either.”
“No-no.”
“I'll keep in touch with your father, John, trust me for that. You and he shall be good friends yet. A man can't hold out against his son for nothing worse than choosing the Church against the world. The old man didn't mean all he said; and then it isn't the thunder that strikes people dead, you know. So leave him to me; and if that foolish old Chalse hasn't been putting notions into his head——”
The throbbing in the steam funnel had ceased and in the sudden hush a voice from the bridge cried, “All ashore!”
“Good-bye, Glory! Good-bye, John! Good-bye both!”
“Good-bye, sir,” said the young clergyman with a long hand-clasp.
But the girl's arms were about the old man's neck. “Good-bye, you dear old grandpa, and I'm ashamed I—I'm sorry I—I mean it's a shame of me to—good-bye!”
“Good-bye, my wandering gipsy, my witch, my runaway!”
“If you call me names I'll have to stop your mouth, sir. Again—another——”
A voice cried, “Stand back there!”