nny, red-cheeked
little old party, he was; thin as a herring, and chilly, always chilly,
sitting over the fire in the bar-parlour winter and summer too--small
squeaky voice he had minding any one of a penny whistle. But a warm man
and a close one--oh! very secret. Anybody must breakfast overnight and
hurry at that--eat with their loins girded, as you may say, to get
upsides with old Lemuel."

He ceased speaking, and glanced round over his shoulder calculating
the distance to the breakwater, for the boat drew level with the
sea-wall of rough-hewn pinkish-grey granite along the river frontage
of The Hard gardens.

"There's some as 'ud tell you it was the surprise of old Lemuel's life to
find himself a parent," he added, eyeing Tom slyly as he spoke, his mouth
remaining open as in preparation for coming laughter.

For those same scandalous little fishes were well into the frying-pan,
now--sizzling, frizzling. And this was a vastly agreeable moment to
William Jennifer, worth waiting for, worth scheming for. Unprintable
humour looked out of his twinkling eyes while he watched to see how far
Tom Verity caught his meaning. Then as the young man flushed, sudden
distaste, even a measure of shame invading him, Jennifer, true artist in
scandal, turned the conversation aside with an air of indulgent apology.

"But, lor, there, you know how people'll talk in a little country place
where there ain't much doing!--And it ain't for me to speak of what
happened back in those times, being barely out of my teens then and away
cow-keeping over Alton way for Farmer Whimsett. Regular chip of the old
block, he was. Don't breed that sort nowadays. As hearty as you like, and
swallered his three pints of home-brewed every morning with his breakfast
he did, till he was took off quite sudden in his four-score-and-ten
twelve months ago come Michaelmas."

Upon the terrace, by the pyramid of ball and the two little cannons, Sir
Charles Verity stood, holding a packet of newly written letters in his
hand and smoking, while he watched the approaching boat. Damaris rose
from the pile of red-brown fishing-nets and waved to him. Jennifer, too,
glanced up, steadying both oars with one hand while he raised the other
to the brim of his thimble-crowned hat. A couple of minutes more and he
would part company with his passenger, and so judged it safe to indulge
himself with a final fish-frying.

"Mortal fine figure of a man, Sir Charles even yet," he said t