came on.

'You'll never set off in this weather, sir?' said Duncan anxiously.

'Oh no, of course not,' I answered lightly.

I fancied that he looked more concerned than the occasion warranted, and
I feared that he suspected the real reason for my early walk.

There was now nothing to be done but to wait till the shower was over,
and by that time I found it would be impossible for me to go to
Kettleness without seeming deliberately to avoid the service.

The sun came out, and the sky was quite blue before eleven o'clock, and
the fishermen spread tarpaulins on the sand for the congregation to sit
on, and I found myself--I must say very much against my will--being led
to the place by little Jack.

'Well, there is no need for me to listen,' I said to myself; 'I will
plan out a new picture, and no one will know where my thoughts are.'

But, in spite of my resolution to the contrary, from the moment that
Jack's father began to speak, my attention was riveted, and I could not
choose but listen.

'The Tug of War is our subject to-day, dear friends,' he began, 'and a
very suitable subject, I think, after what we have witnessed on this
green during the past week. We have seen, have we not, a long pull, a
strong pull, and a pull all together, as yon heavy crab boat was dragged
up from the beach? How well she came, what progress she made! with each