“Got the toothache?” inquires the tactless youth.
The new-comer replies in the negative and orders a cup of tea and a herring. It is Annie who brings the simple meal and sets it down without looking at the man.
“Thanks,” he growls in his brown beard, and the woman pauses suddenly. She listens, as if hearing some distant sound. Then she slowly turns--for she has gone a step or two from the table--and makes a pretence of setting the salt and pepper closer to him.
Three ships had come up with the afternoon tide--a coaster, a Norwegian barque in ballast, and a full-rigged ship with nitrate from the West Coast of South America.
“Just ashore?” inquired Annie--economical with her words, as they mostly are round the Northern river.
“Ay,” grumbles the man. He holds the handkerchief to his cheek, and turns the herring tentatively with a fork.
“You'll find it's a good enough fish,” says the woman, bluntly. Her two hands are pressed to her comely bosom in a singular way.
“Ay!” says the man again, as if he had no other word.
The clock strikes six, and the boy, more mindful of his own tea than his neighbour's ailments, slips on his jacket and goes home. The last customers dawdle out with a grunt intended for a salutation. Mrs. Mason is softly heard to snore. And all the while Annie Mason--all the colour vanished from her wholesome face--stands with her hands clutching her dress, gazing down at the man, who still examines the herring with a self-conscious awkwardness.
“Geordie!” she says. They are all called Geordie in South Shields.
Annie Mason sits down suddenly--opposite to him. He does not look up but remains, his face half hidden by the spotted blue handkerchief, a picture of self-conscious guilt and shame.
“What did ye did it for, Geordie?” she asks, breathlessly. “Eleven years, come March--oh, it was cruel!”
“What did I do it for?” he repeats. “What did I do it for? Why, lass, can't ye see my face?”
He drops the handkerchief, and holds up his poor scarred countenance. He does not look at her, but away past her with the pathetic shame of a maimed dog. The cheek thus suddenly exposed to view is whole and brown and healthy. Beneath the mahogany-coloured skin there is a glow singularly suggestive of a blush.