puts into a mud-flat to heave down that wants to be the talk of the place. Savvy that?"
"Yes," said Evan.
"An' here!" pursued the sailor confidentially, tapping the boy on his breast. "There wouldn't be anyone hereabouts with a likely pig to sell, would there? For sailormen sets a lot of store by pigs."
"There's Morris of the Little House," answered Evan. "He's got pigs. A mile up the road his house is."
"Ah, that's fine," said the sailor. "Plenty of pigs, eh? and maybe a rooster or two? Well, good night to you, my lad. A mile up the road, you said?"
"Yes," said Evan. "Good night."
In the morning he had to face his father, who heard without surprise that he had been expelled from the Band of Hope. Evan gave his story briefly, in the barest form, while his father sat at the loom. The boy did not see how the weaver's face flushed and then whitened at the recital.
"Ah, well," said the weaver, when it was told. "It was Morgan Rhosegadder put you out?"