nce in givin' the maid a wet welcome, I s'pose."

A buzz of dissatisfaction at Adam's interference inspired Zebedee with
renewed confidence, and with two or three sways in order to get the
right balance he managed to bring himself to a standstill right in front
of Adam, into whose face he looked with a comical expression of defiance
and humor as he said, "Why, come 'long with us, lad, do 'ee, and name
the liquor yerself, and see it passes round free and turn and turn
about: and let's hab a song or two, and get up Rozzy Treloar wi' his
fiddle, and Zeke Orgall there 'ull dance us a hornpipe;" and he began a
double-shuffle with his feet, adding, as his dexterity came to a sudden
and somewhat unsteady finish, "Tis a ill wind that blows nobody no good,
and a poor heart what never rejices."

Eve during this time had been vainly endeavoring to make her escape--an
impossibility, as Adam saw, under existing circumstances; and this
decided him to use no further argument; but, with his arm put through
his father's and in company with the rest of the group, he apparently
conceded to their wishes, and, motioning Eve on, the party proceeded
along the path, down the steps and toward the quay, until they came in
front of the Three Pilchards, now the centre of life and jollity, with
the sound of voices and the preparatory scraping of a fiddle to enhance
the promise of comfort which glowed in the ruddy reflection sent by the
bright lights and cheerful fire through the red window-curtain.

"Now, father," exclaimed Adam with a resolute grip of the old man's arm,
"you and me are homeward bound. We'll welcome our neighbors some other
time, but for this evening let's say good-night to them."

"Good-night?" repeated Zebedee: "how good-night? Why, what 'ud be the
manin' o' that? None o' us ain't agoin' to part company here, I hopes.
We'm all goin' to cast anchor to the same moorin's--eh, mates?"

"No, no, no!" said Adam, impatiently: "you come along home with me now."

"Iss, iss, all right!" laughed the old man, trying to wriggle out of his
son's grasp; "only not just yet a whiles. I'm agoin' in here to drink
your good health, Adam lad, and all here's a-comin' with me--ain't us,
hearties?"

"Pack of stuff! Drink my health?" exclaimed Adam. "There's no more
reason for drinking my health to-night than any other night. Come along
now, father: you've had a hard day of it, you know, and when you get
home you can have whatever you want quietly