Mrs. Jenkin reached the end of the verse, and shrill, childish voices took up the chorus: 

  “In red, in red, he’s all in red,
  My love is a soldier dressed in red”.

Katherine stood listening while the chorus ended.  Then Mrs. Jenkin started on afresh:  “My love is a sailor clothed in blue”.

But this was too much, and Katherine, pushing the door hurriedly open, forgetting the small ceremony of knocking, crossed the threshold and stood, a dripping figure, just inside the door.

“My dear Miss Radford, what is the matter?” cried the little woman, jumping up in such a hurry that she upset the baby on to the floor, where he lay and yelled, more from consternation than because he was hurt.

Katherine hesitated.  Where could she begin?  But then, to her surprise, Mrs. Jenkin burst out excitedly:  “You surely haven’t been putting any belief in that story that Oily Dave has been going round with this morning?”

“Isn’t it true?” faltered Katherine; then, feeling suddenly weak, she dropped into the nearest seat, and tried to keep her lips from quivering.

“Did you ever know him speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” demanded Mrs. Jenkin scornfully, as she picked up the yelling infant and cuddled him into quiet again.

“But the others were with him, Jean Doulais, and Mickey White, and they found the boat of the Mary,” faltered Katherine,

“What of that?” cried Mrs. Jenkin.  “The Mary had two boats, and one might easily have got adrift through accident.  I laughed in his face when he told about the water jar and the bag of biscuit.  Nick Jones and Stee always keep water and biscuit in the little boats when they are hoping for a whale, for sometimes it is a long chase, and then the men get just about worn out.”

“The fleet boats have been very safe so far,” remarked Katherine, trying to find comfort from the little woman’s cheery front, yet rather failing.

“Yes, the safest boats that go fishing in the bay, my man says, and he reckons it is because they are so small and well built,” Mrs. Jenkin went on, plainly delighted to have a visitor, and evidently not much concerned about her husband’s safety.  “But slip that wet coat off, dear, and come closer to the stove; this damp makes us chilly, and reminds us that winter will soon be sneaking up at the back of the wind.  You surely are not out delivering goods on a morning like this?”

“No, I came because I was so sorry for you,” Katherine answered simply.

“Now, that is the real sort of friendship, and I thank you with all my heart,” said Mrs. Jenkin, patting Katherine on the shoulder with a hand that was not too clean.  Then she issued a command to her eldest daughter:  “Take Percival, Gwendoline, and do you and Valerie go and play on my bed; you can have a lovely time rolling round in the blankets.”

Shrieks of delight greeted this suggestion, and the three grandly named but very dirty babies promptly retired to the next room, leaving their mother and the visitor in peace, if not in quiet.  The walls of the little house were very thin, and rolling round in the blankets appeared to be a very noisy pastime.