the boy back by his collar.

"What d'yer mean by it, givin' folks a shock like that?" she demanded.

"I was looking at the pictures," he explained, and showed her.

The _Success to Commerce_ bore on her stern panels two gaily painted
landscapes, the one of Warwick Castle, the other of ruined Kenilworth.
Tilda leaned over the side and saw them mirrored in the still water.

"And then," the boy pursued, "down below the pictures I saw a great ship
lying in the seaweed with guns and drowned men on the deck and the
fishes swimming over them. Deep in the ship a bell was tolling--"

"Nonsense!" Tilda interrupted, and catching up a pole, thrust it down
overside. "Four feet at the most," she reported, as the pole found
bottom. "You must be sickenin' for somethin'. Put out your tongue."

"A child of imagination," observed Mr. Mortimer, who had followed her.
"Full fathom five thy father lies--"

"'Ush!" cried Tilda.

"--Of his bones are coral made. Those are pearls that were his eyes--"

The boy sat and looked up at the speaker, staring, shivering a little.

"You know? You know too?" he stammered.

"He knows nothin' about it," insisted Tilda. "Please go away, Mr.
Mortimer?"

"A young Shakespearian? This is indeed delightful! You shall have a
part, sir. Your delivery will be immature, doubtless; but with some
tuition from me--"

"If you try it on, I'll tell 'Ucks," the girl threatened, by this time
desperate. "You're like all the actors--leastways you're like all that
ever I met; an', take it 'ow you will, I got to say it. Once get
started on yer own lay, an' everything elst goes out o' yer 'eads.
You don't mean to 'urt, but selfish you are and 'eedless, an' somebody
'as al'ays the world's trouble clearin' up the mess. 'Ere, 'and me the
part you was tellin' about; an' I'll learn it an' say it, though not
within a 'undred miles of Glasson--which," she added, "I'll be an old
woman before that, at the rate we're goin'. But you don't drag Arthur
Miles into it, an' I give you fair warnin'. For, to start with, 'e's
'idin', an' 'tis only to keep 'im 'id that I got 'Ucks to let yer loose.
An' nex' 'e's a gentleman, and why you should want to mix 'im up with
yer Shakespeares I can't think."

It is doubtful if Mr. Mortimer heard the conclusion of her outburst.
At the mention of Mr. Hucks he pressed a palm dramatically to his
forehead; and now, withdrawing it, he handed her the two slips of paper
with great polit