"Don't mind me, my dear.

I never meant--Don't ye mind a rough old beggar, that don't know that hasn't one thing more between him and the grave.

Not a thing--but money.

And that, now--I wish't was at the bottom o' this bloomin' river!" They said no more, but rested side by side, like old friends joined closer by new grief.

Flounce, the terrier, snuffing disconsolately about the deck, and scratching the boards in her zeal to explore the shallow hold, at last grew weary, and came to snuggle down between the two silent companions.