I quickened my pace and overtook the fisherman. He was an old
man with a ragged grey beard, and his rig was seaman's boots and a
much-darned blue jersey. He was deaf, and did not hear me when I
hailed him. When he caught sight of me he never stopped, though
he very solemnly returned my good evening. I fell into step with
him, and in his silent company reached the cottage.

He halted before the door and unslung his burdens. The place
was a two-roomed building with a roof of thatch, and the walls
all grown over with a yellow-flowered creeper. When he had
straightened his back, he looked seaward and at the sky, as if to
prospect the weather. Then he turned on me his gentle, absorbed
eyes. 'It will haf been a fine day, sir. Wass you seeking the road
to anywhere?'

'I was seeking a night's lodging,' I said. 'I've had a long tramp
on the hills, and I'd be glad of a chance of not going farther.'

'We will haf no accommodation for a gentleman,' he said gravely.

'I can sleep on the floor, if you can give me a blanket and a bite
of supper.'

'Indeed you will not,' and he smiled slowly. 'But I will ask the
wife. Mary, come here!'

An old woman appeared in answer to his call, a woman whose
face was so old that she seemed like his mother. In highland places
one sex ages quicker than the other.