they're not made of the same stuff as you are. They have no brain power, no sense. Not as much sense as the ground they stands on.' For the ground, mind you, 'as a certain amount of sense. It knows enough to grow things. It knows enough to cover up a dead man when he's laid in it, now isn't that so? But a lot of the people I meet, their ignorance makes me sick." He took another drink, set down his glass, and went on—"Perhaps I make them sick, too. Like I did an old cadger once. I was courtin' his daughter. Not that I was very serious, mind, but I was willin' to pass a silly hour with 'er, now and again, even if it did cost me a dollar. And she liked a silly hour with me, and she liked the look of my dough. . . . This night there was a big storm on and we were sittin' close by the fire and 'er old people was in bed in the next room. Suddenly the old man says to 'is old woman—'Well, my old dearie, you and me is safe under our own roof, and none but a fool of no account, whatsomever, would be out a night like this!' Those were his words out of the darkness of his bed, and you can bet it wasn't long till I was makin' the way shorter 'ome."
"Did you ever go back?" shouted a voice from the hall.
Fergussen puffed out his lips. "Do I look like a man who would go sneakin' back arter a hinsult like that? Do I now?"
"What about the girl?" asked another.
"Ho! You expect me to tell you about the girl, eh? Well, I'll just say this, that we spent a few more silly hours together in spite of the old folk." He gave a jolly wink at Bastien.
Three men off a barge and the stoker of a coaling schooner now came in, for Brancepeth was a lake port, as well as the centre of a fruit-growing district.
The bar was now full. Business was at its height. The
