harm ye be made fools for your benefit, and may niver worse luck light
on one hair of your head than the best blessings of Biddy Macartney!"

Something peculiar in the sound of Biddy's retreating movements made me
risk another glance from an angle of the tarpaulin.

And upon my honour it is strictly true that I saw the old Irish woman
drive her barrow down the dock till she passed out of sight, and that
she went neither walking nor running, but _dancing_; and a good high
stepping dance too, that showed her stockings, and shook the
handkerchief on her head. And when she reached the end of the wharf she
snapped her fingers in the air.

Then I drew my head back, and I could hear the watchman guffaw as if he
would have split his sides. And even after he began to tramp up and down
I could hear him still chuckling as he paced by.

And if I did not hear Biddy chuckle, it was perhaps because the joke on
her side lay deeper down.




CHAPTER III.

"The mariners shout,
The ships swing about.
The yards are all hoisted,
The sails flutter out."
_The Saga of King Olaf_.