“I’m thinking,” said my father, “Barry here knows the road to Derry as well as me. Who’ll be minding a young boy on a cart of turnips?”
His honour mused a moment, and then nodded.
“Can you get the cutter away in this wind?” asked he.
“I could get her away as easy as I got her in,” said my father; “but she’s well enough as she is for a day or two, by your honour’s leave.”
“Father,” said I, all excitement, “sure it wasn’t you ran the cutter into the lough round Fanad yesterday? I knew nobody else could have done it!”
My father grinned at the compliment.
“That’s the boy knows one end of a ship from the other,” said he.
Mr Gorman looked at me, and a thought seemed to strike him.
“Come here!” said he, beckoning me to him.
Once again he looked hard in my face, and I looked hard back.