The wind was roaring in the chimney, and the light was beginning to fail. Pete became restless, and walked to and fro, peering out at intervals by the window that looked on to the road. At this there was some pushing and nudging and indulgent whispering.
“It's the girl! Aw, be aisy with the like! Five years apart, be aisy!”
“The meadow's white with the gulls sitting together like parrots; what's that a sign of, father?” said Pete.
“Just a slant of rain maybe, and a puff of wind,” said Cæsar.
“But,” said Pete, looking up at the sky, “the long cat tail was going off at a slant awhile ago, and now the thick skate yonder is hanging mortal low.”
“Take your time, sir,” said Cæsar. “No need to send round the Cross Vustha (fiery cross) yet. The girl will be home immadiently.”
“It'll be dark at her, though,” said Pete.
The company tried to draw him into conversation about the ways of life in the countries he had visited, but he answered absently and jerkily, and kept going to the door.
“Suppose there'll be Dempsters enough where you're coming from?” said Jonaique.
“Sort of Dempsters, yes. Called one of them Ould Necessity, because it knows no law. He rigged up the statute books atop of his stool for a high sate, and when he wanted them he couldn't find them high or low. Not the first judge that's sat on the law, though.... It's coming, Cæsar, d'ye hear it? That's the rain on the street.”