d tone.

"I ain't thinkin' at all," said Pat.

"Would you believe it, Pat?" continued Bob, "I've just heerd that
scoun'rel Dick Martin say that it _was_ him as stole the money from Mrs
Mooney--from the mother of our Eve!"

"You _don't_ say so!" exclaimed Pat, making his eyes remarkably wide and
round.

"Yes, I does, an' I've long suspected him. Whether he was boastin' or
not I can't tell, an' it do seem strange that he should boast of it to
the young parson--leastwise, unless it was done to spite him. But now
mark me, Pat Stiver, I'll bring that old sinner to his marrow-bones
before long, and make him disgorge too, if he hain't spent it all. I
give you leave to make an Irish stew o' my carcase if I don't. Ay, ay,
sir!"

The concluding words of Bob Lumsden's speech were in reply to an order
from Skipper Lockley to haul the boat alongside. In a few minutes more
the mission ship was forsaken by her strange Sabbath congregation, and
left with all the fleet around her floating quietly on the tranquil sea.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

A CONSULTATION, A FEAST, AND A PLOT.

There was--probably still is--a coffee-tavern in Gorleston where, in a
cleanly, cheerful room, a retired fisherman and his wife, of temperance
principles, supplied people with those hot liquids which are said to
cheer without inebriating.

Here, by appointment, two friends met to discuss matters of grave
importance. One was Bob Lumsden, the other his friend and admirer Pat
Stiver. Having asked for and obtained two large cups of coffee and two
slices of buttered bread for some ridiculously small sum of money, they
retired to the most distant corner of the room, and, turning their backs
on the counter, began their discussion in low tones.

Being early in the day, the room had no occupants but themselves and the
fisherman's wife, who busied herself in cleaning and arranging plates,
cups, and saucers, etcetera, for expected visitors.

"Pat," said Bob, sipping his coffee with an appreciative air, "I've
turned a total abstainer."

"W'ich means?" inquired Pat.

"That I don't drink nothin' at all," replied Bob.

"But you're a-drinkin' now!" said Pat.

"You know what I mean, you small willain; I drink nothin' with spirits
in it."

"Well, I don't see what you gains by that, Bob, for I heerd Fred Martin
say you was nat'rally `full o' spirit,' so abstainin' 'll make no
difference."

"Pat," said Bob sternly, "if you don't clap a stopper on your ton