Then Philip slithered softly through the dairy door, and shut it after him, leaving Kate and Pete together.
VII.
The kitchen of “The Manx Fairy” was now savoury with the odour of herrings roasting in their own brine, and musical with the crackling and frizzling of the oil as it dropped into the fire.
“It's a long way back to Ballure, Mrs. Cregeen,” said Philip, popping his head in at the door jamb. “May I stay to a bite of supper?”
“Aw, stay and welcome,” said Cæsar, putting down the big book, and Nancy Joe said the same, dropping her high-pitched voice perceptibly, and Grannie said, also, “Right welcome, sir, if you'll not be thinking mane to take pot luck with us. Potatoes and herrings, Mr. Christian; just a Manxman's supper. Lift the pot off the slowrie, Nancy.”
“Well, and isn't he a Manxman himself, mother?” said Cæsar.
“Of course I am, Mr. Cregeen,” said Philip, laughing noisily. “If I'm not, who should be, eh?'”
“And Manxman or no Manxman, what for should he turn up his nose at herrings same as these?” said Nancy Joe. She was dishing up a bowlful. “Where'll he get the like of them? Not in England over, I'll go bail.”
“Indeed, no, Nancy,” said Philip, still laughing needlessly.