give more
disappointment than its non-creation. Equally well, I knew that it was
no use going to bed without something to make me sleep.... I told Tony
I would go out and look at the weather.

"Yu must 'scuse me 'companying of 'ee 'cause I got me butes off. My
veet _du_ ache!"

On my return, the bright eyes were still travelling to and fro, from
bottle to glasses. I yawned, Tony yawned noisily, Mrs Widger
capaciously. Mrs Pinn was herself infected. "'Tis time I was home....
Oh, Lor'!" she yawned.

She went; and when I asked Tony to share my customary nightcap, it was
with ill-hidden glee that he replied as usual: "Had us better tu?"

His native politeness prevented him from saying anything, however, and
Mrs Widger showed not a sign of having observed the little victory, so
meanly necessary, so galling in every stage to the victor.

Tony declares that he will really and truly start mackerel hooking
to-morrow morning--"if 'tis vitty," and "if the drifters an't catched
nort," and "if 'tis wuth it," and "if he du."

9

A creaking and shaking in the timbers of the old house, very early this
morning, must have half awakened me; then there was a muffled rap on my
door. "Be 'ee goin' to git up?"

"Yes.... 'Course.... What time is it?"

The only answer was a _pad-pad-pad_ down the stairs. I looked out over
the bedclothes. The window, a grey patch barred with darker grey, was
like a dim chilly ghost gazing at me from the opposite wall. By the
saltiness of the damp air which blew across the room and by the grind
of the shingle outside, I could tell that the wind was off sea. The sea
itself was almost invisible--a swaying mistiness through which the
white-horses rose and peeped at one, as if to say, "Come and share our
frolic. Come and ride us."

[Sidenote: _MACKEREL LINES_]

Tony, sleepy and sheepish in the eyes, was pattering about the kitchen
in his stockings (odd ones), his pants and his light check shirt. The
fire was contrary. We scraped out ashes; poked in more wood and paper.
Soon a gush of comfortable steam made the lid of the kettle dance. The
big blue tin teapot was washed out, filled and set on the hob. The
cupboards and front room were searched for cake. Tony went upstairs
with a cup o' tay for the ol' doman and came down with a roll of
biscuits. (Mrs Widger takes the biscuits to bed with her as maiden
ladies take the plate basket, and for much the same reason.)

Faint light was showing through the no