have
another unless I takes this one," said Coomber, with a little more
courage, "and so I ain't a-going to lose this chance; for I do want a
little gal."

"Oh, that's all very well; but you ain't no call to take this child
that's no ways your own. She can go to the workus, you know. Peters'll
take her by-and-by. Her clothes ain't much, so her belongings ain't
likely to trouble themselves much about her. Yer can see by this
trumpery medal she don't belong to rich folks; so my advice is, let her
go to the workus, where she'll be well provided for."

"No, no! the missus'll see things as I do, when I talk to her a bit. So
if you'll take care of her for an hour or two, while I go home and get
off these duds, and tell her about it, I'll be obliged;" and without
waiting for the dame's reply, Coomber left the cottage.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER II.

THE FISHERMAN'S HOME.

"Why, mother, are you here?" Coomber spoke in a stern, reproachful tone,
for he had found his wife and the cowering children huddled together in
the corner of the old shed where the family washing and various
fish-cleaning operations were usually carried on; and the sight did not
please him.

"Are yer all gone mad that yer sitting out there wi' the rain drippin'
on yer, when yer might be dry an' comfortable, and have a bit o'
breakfast ready for a feller when he comes home after a tough job such
as I've had?"

"I--I didn't know when you was coming to breakfast," said Mrs. Coomber,
timidly, and still keeping close in the corner of the shed for fear her
husband should knock her down; while the children stopped their mutual
grumblings and complaints, and crept closer to each other behind their
mother's skirts.

"Couldn't you ha' got it ready and waited wi' a bit o' fire to dry these
duds?" exclaimed her husband.

"But the boat, Coomber, it wasn't safe," pleaded the poor woman. "We
might ha' been adrift any minute."

"Didn't I tell yer she was safe, and didn't I ought to know when a
boat's safe better nor you--a poor tool of a woman? Come out of it," he
added, impatiently, turning away.

The children wondered that nothing worse than hard words fell to their
share, and were somewhat relieved that the next question referred to
Bob, and not to their doings.

"You say he ain't come home?" said Coomber.

"I ain't seen him since he went with you to Fellness. Ain't you just
come from there?" said his wife, timidly.

"Of course I have, but Bo