There's only one
thing more, and don't you forget it: Hats off; and any man that wants
to spit must go outside."
That afternoon Taffy learnt for the first time what could be done
with a few ropes and pulleys. The seamen seemed to spin ropes out of
themselves like spiders. By three o'clock the beam was hoisted and
fixed; and they broke off their work to attend their shipmates'
funeral. After the funeral they fell to again, though more silently,
and before nightfall the beam shone with a new coat of varnish.
They left early next morning, after a good deal of handshaking, and
Taffy looked after them wistfully as they turned to wave their caps
and trudged away over the rise towards the cross-roads. Away to the
left in the wintry sunshine a speck of scarlet caught his eye against
the blue-grey of the towans. He watched it as it came slowly towards
him, and his heart leapt--yet not quite as he had expected it to
leap.
For it was George Vyell. George had lately been promoted to "pink"
and made a gallant figure on his strapping grey hunter. For the
first time Taffy felt ashamed of his working-suit, and would have
slipped back to the church. But George had seen him, and pulled up.
"Hullo!" said he.
"Hullo!" said Taffy; and, absurdly enough, could find no more to say.
"How are you getting on?"
"Oh, I'm all right." There was another pause.
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