d viewed the southern
sky. A black cloud was pricked upon the spur of Cowal. "There's wind
there," said he, "and water too! I'm thinking we are better here than
below Otter this night. Nan, my dear, it is home you may get to-day, but
not without a wetting. I told you not to come, and come you would."

She drummed with her heels upon the breaker, held up a merry chin, and
smiled boldly at her father's captain. "Yes, you told me not to come,
but you wanted me to come all the time. I know you did. You wanted
songs, you wanted all the songs, and you had the ropes off the pawl
before I had time to change my mind."

"You should go home now," said the seaman anxiously. "Here is our young
fellow, and he will walk up to the town with you."

She pretented to see Gilian for the first time, staring at him boldly,
with a look that made him certain she was thinking of the many times he
had manifestly kept out of her way. It made him uneasy, but he was more
uneasy when she spoke.

"The Paymaster's boy," said she. "Oh! he would lose himself on the way
home, and the fairies might get him. When I go I must find my own way.
But I am not going now, Duncan. If it will rain, it will rain and be
done with it, and then I will go home."

"Come on board," said Duncan to the boy. "Come on board, and see my
ship, then; she is a little ship, but she is a brave one, I'm telling
you; there is nothing of the first of her left for patches."

Gilian looked longingly at the magic decks confused with ropes, and the
open companion faced him, leading to warm depths, he knew by the smoke
that floated from the funnel. But he paused, for the girl had turned
her head to look at the sea, and though he guessed somehow she might be
willing to have him with her for his youth, he did not care to venture.

Then Black Duncan swore. He considered his invitation too much of a
favour to have it treated so dubiously. Gilian saw it and went upon the
deck.

Youth, that is so long (and all too momentary), and leaves for ever such
a memory, soon, forgets. So it was that in a little while Gilian and Nan
were on the friendliest of terms, listening to Black Duncan's stories.
As they listened, the girl sat facing the den stair, so that her eyes
were lit to their depths, her lips were flaming red. The seaman and the
boy sat in shadow. The seaman, stretched upon a bunk with his feet to
the Carron stove, the boy upon a firkin, could see her every wave of
fancy displayed upo