"May I ask you a question or two, you most interesting boy?" said Miss Scragley.

"Oh, yes, if ye're quite sure ye ain't the gamekeeper's wife. The keeper turned me out of the wood once. Bob warn't there that day."

"Well, I'm sure I'm not the gamekeeper's wife. I am Miss Scragley of Scragley Hall."

The boy was wiping his fingers and his knife with some moss.

"I wish I had a cap on," he said.

"Why, dear?"

"So as I could take her off and make a bow," he explained.

"And what is your name, curious boy?"

"Ransey; that's my front name."

"But your family name?"

"Ain't got ne'er a family, 'cepting Babs."

"But you have a surname--another name, you know."

"Ransey Tansey all complete. There."

"And where do you live, my lad?"

"Me and Babs and Bob and Murrams all lives, when we're to home, at Hangman's Hall; and father lives there, too, when 'ee's to home; and the Admiral, yonder, he roosts in the gibbet-tree."

"And what does father do?"

"Oh, father's a capting."

"A captain, dear boy?"

"No, he's not a boy, but a man, and capting of the _Merry Maiden_, a ca.n.a.l barge, mum. An' we all goes to sea sometimes together, 'cepting Murrams, our p.u.s.s.y, and the Admiral. We have such fun; and I ride Jim the ca.n.a.l hoss, and Babs laughs nearly all the time."

"So you're very happy all of you, and always were?"

"Oh, yes--'cepting when father sometimes took too much rum; but that's a hundred years ago, more or less, mum."

"Poor lad! Have you a mother?"

"Oh, yes, we has a mother, but only she's gone dead. The parson said she'd gone to heaven; but I don't know, you know. Wish she'd come back, though," he added with a sigh.

"I'm so sorry," said Miss Scragley, patting his hand.

"Oh, don't ye do that, mum, and don't talk kind to me, else I'll cry. I feels the tears a-comin' now. n.o.body ever, ever talks kindly to me and Babs when at home, 'cepting father, in course, 'cause we're on'y common ca.n.a.l folks and outcasts from serciety."

Ransey Tansey was very earnest. Miss Scragley had really a kind heart of her own, only she couldn't help smiling at the boy's language.

"Who told you so?"

"W'y, the man as opens the pews."

"Oh, you've been to church, then?"

"Oh, yes; went the other Sunday. Had nuthin' better to do, and thought I'd give Babs a treat."

"And did you go in those--clothes?"

"Well, mum, I couldn't go with nuthin' on--could I, now? An' the pew-man just turned us both out. But Babs was so good, and didn't cry a bit till she got out. Then I took her away through the woods to hear the birds sing; and mebbe G.o.d was there too, 'cause mother said He was everywhere."

"Yes, boy, G.o.d is everywhere. And where does your mother sleep, Ransey?"

"Sleep? Oh, in heaven. Leastways I s'pose so."

"I mean, where was your gentle mother buried?"

"Oh, at sea, mum. Sailor's grave, ye know."

Ransey looked very sad just then.

"You don't mean in the ca.n.a.l, surely?"

"Yes, mum. Father wouldn't have it no other way. I can't forget; 'tain't much more'n a year ago, though it looks like ten. Father, ye know, 'ad been a long time in furrin parts afore he was capting o' the _Merry Maiden_."

The lad had thrown himself down on the gra.s.s at a respectable distance from Miss Scragley, and his big blue, eyes grew bigger and sadder as he continued his story.

"'Twere jest like this, mum. Mother'd been bad for weeks and so quiet like, and father _so_ kind, 'cause he didn't never touch no rum when mother was sick. We was ca.n.a.l-ing most o' the time; and one night we stopped at the 'Bargee's Chorus'--only a little public-house, mum, as perhaps you wouldn't hardly care to be seen drinkin' at. We stopped here 'cause mother was wuss, and old dad sent for a doctor; and I put Jim into the meadow. Soon's the doctor saw poor mother, he sez, sez he, 'Ye'd better get the parson. No,' he sez, 'I won't charge ye nuthin'

for attendance; it's on'y jest her soul as wants seein' to now.'

"Well, mum, the parson came. He'd a nice, kind face like you has, mum, and he told mother lots, and made her happy like. Then he said a prayer. I was kind o' dazed, I dussay; but when mother called us to her, and kissed me and Babs, and told us she was goin' on to a happier land, I broke out and cried awful. And Babs cried too, and said, 'An'

me too, ma. Oh, take Babs.'

"Father led us away to the inn, and I jest hear him say to the parson, 'No, no, sir, no. No parish burial for me. She's a sailor's wife; she'll rest in a sailor's grave!'

"I don't know, mum, what happened that night and next day, for me and Babs didn't go on board again.

"Only, the evenin' arter, when the moon and stars was ashinin' over the woods and deep down in the watur, father comes to me.

"'Ransey,' sez father, 'fetch Jim; we're goin' on.' And I goes and fetches Jim, and yokes him to and mounts; and father he put Babs up aside me, 'cause Jim's good and never needs a whip.

"'Go on, Ransey,' sez he, an' steps quietly on board and takes the tiller.

"Away we went--through the meadows and trees, and then through a long, quiet moor.

"Father kep' the barge well out, and she looked sailin' among the stars--which it wasn't the stars, on'y their 'flection, mum. Well, we was halfway through the moor, and Babs was gone sound asleep 'cross my arm, when I gives Jim his head and looks back.