“‘Thee knows I love thee.’

“‘And if the devil sent him back to curse you anew—­’

“’Shame, Richard!  I would say, God, who layeth out for each his way, has pointed mine.’

“‘And I?’

“‘Thee would continue in goodness, loving me as a sister hardly tried.’

“‘By God!  I should go away to sea.’

“‘Richard!’

“Which is the last word of this scene,” added Schmidt.  “You mayhap have about you punk and flint and steel.”

I struck alight in silence, feeling moved by the story of the hurt hearts of these good people, and wondering at the man and his tale.  Then I said, “Was that all?”

“Could you, if not a boy, ask me to say more of it?  Light thy pipe and hold thy peace.  Happy those who think not of women.  I, who have for a hearth-side only the fire of an honest pipe—­’Way there, my lad! pull us in and forget what a loose tongue and a soft summer night have given thee to hear from a silly old German who is grown weak of head and sore at soul.  How the lights twinkle!”

Had I felt any doubt at all of the truth of his narration I should have ceased to do so when for the next few days I watched Mr. Wholesome, and saw him, while off his guard, looking at Mistress White askance with a certain wistful sadness, as of a great honest dog somehow hurt and stricken.

When an India ship came in, the great casks of madeira, southside, grape juice, bual and what not were rolled away into the deep cellars of the India houses on the wharves, and left to purge their vinous consciences of such perilous stuff as was shaken up from their depths during the long homeward voyage.  Then, when a couple of months had gone by, it was a custom for the merchant to summon a few old gentlemen to a solemn tasting of the wines old and new.  Of this, Mr. Wholesome told me one day, and thought I had better remain to go through the cellars and drive out the bungs and drop in the testers, and the like.  “I will also stay with thee,” he added, “knowing perhaps better than thee the prices.”

I learned afterward that Wholesome always stayed on these occasions, and I had reason to be glad that I too was asked to stay, for, as it chanced, it gave me a further insight into the character of my friend the junior partner.

I recall well the long cellar running far back under Water street, with its rows of great casks, of which Wholesome and I started the bungs while awaiting the new-comers.  Presently came slowly down the cellar-steps our senior partner in nankeen shanks, silk stockings and pumps—­a frosty-visaged old man, with a nose which had fully earned the right to be called bottle.  Behind him limped our old porter in a blue check apron.  He went round the cellar, and at every second cask, having lighted a candle, he held it upside down until the grease had fallen thick on the cask, and then turning the candle stuck it fast in its little pile of tallow, so that by and by the