asked him what he was
good enough to mean by saying I was coming, without having asked me. He
answered, unabashed:

"You see, I'm not friends with the old man; but I knew he'd not be
impolite to you, so I took the liberty."

He has certainly a knack of turning one's anger to curiosity. We were
down in the combe now; the tide was running out, and the sand all
little, wet, shining ridges. About a quarter of a mile out lay a cutter,
with her tan sail half down, swinging to the swell. The sunlight was
making the pink cliffs glow in the most wonderful way; and shifting
in bright patches over the sea like moving shoals of goldfish. Pearse
perched himself on his dinghy, and looked out under his hand. He seemed
lost in admiration.

"If we could only net some of those spangles," he said, "an' make gold
of 'em! No more work then."

"It's a big job I've got on," he said presently; "I'll tell you about it
on Wednesday. I want a journalist."

"But I don't write for the papers," I said; "I do other sort of work. My
game is archaeology."

"It doesn't matter," he said, "the more imagination the better. It'd be
a thundering good thing for you."

His assurance was amazing, but it was past supper-time, and hunger
getting the better of my curiosity, I bade him good-night. When I looked
back, he was still there, on the edge of his boat, gazing at the sea. A
queer sort of bird altogether, but attractive somehow.

Nobody mentioned him that evening; but once old Ford, after staring
a long time at Pasiance, muttered a propos of nothing, "Undutiful
children!" She was softer than usual; listening quietly to our talk,
and smiling when spoken to. At bedtime she went up to her grand-father,
without waiting for the usual command, "Come and kiss me, child."

Dan did not stay to supper, and he has not been here since. This morning
I asked Mother Hopgood who Zachary Pearse was. She's a true Devonian;
if there's anything she hates, it is to be committed to a definite
statement. She ambled round her answer, and at last told me that he
was "son of old Cap'en Jan Pearse to Black Mill. 'Tes an old family to
Dartymouth an' Plymouth," she went on in a communicative outburst. "They
du say Francis Drake tuke five o' they Pearses with 'en to fight
the Spaniards. At least that's what I've heard Mr. Zachary zay; but
Ha-apgood can tell yu." Poor Hopgood, the amount of information she
saddles him with in the course of the day! Having given me thus to
unde