bite, as at a spinner, but probably the fresh lask leaves
behind it in the water an odour or flavour of mackerel oil which
keeps the shoal together and makes them follow the boat.

Suddenly the fish stopped biting, perhaps because the risen sun was
shining down into the water. The wind dropped without warning, as
southerly winds will do in the early morning, if they don't come on to
blow a good deal harder. The _Cock Robin_ wallowed again on the water.
"We'm done!" said Tony. "Let's get in out o'it in time for the early
market. There ain't no other boats out. Thees yer ought to fetch
'leven-pence the dizzen. We've made thees day gude in case nort else
don't turn up."

While I rowed ashore, he struck sail, and threw the ballast overboard.
Most pleasantly does that shingle ballast plop-rattle into the water
when there is a catch of fish aboard. We ran in high upon a sea.
Willing hands hauled the _Cock Robin_ up the beach: we had fish to
give away for help. The mackerel made elevenpence a dozen to Jemima
Caley, the old squat fishwoman who wears a decayed sailor hat with a
sprig of heather in it. "Yu don' mean to say yu've a-catched all they
lovely fish!" she said with a rheumy twinkle, in the hope of getting
them for tenpence.

"'Levenpence a dozen, Jemima!"

"Aw well then, yu must let I pay 'ee when I sold 'em. An't got it now.
Could ha' gived 'ee tenpence down."

With a mackerel stuck by the gills on the tip of each finger, I came in
house. The children were being got ready for school. When I returned
downstairs with some of the fishiness washed off, Mrs Widger was
distributing the school bank-cards and Monday morning pennies. (By the
time the children leave school, they will have saved thus, penny by
penny, enough to provide them with a new rig-out for service--or Sunday
wear.) There was a frizzling in the topsy-turvy little kitchen.

[Sidenote: _A DARING RASCAL_]

"Mam! Vish!"

"Mam! I wants some vish. Mam 'Idger...."

"Yu shall hae some fish another time."

"No-o-o!"

"Go on!"

"Well, jam zide plaate then."

Jimmy's finger was in the jampot.

"Yu daring rascal!" shrieks Mam Widger. "Get 'long to school with 'ee!
Yu'll be late an' I shall hae the 'spector round. Get 'long--and see
what I'll hae for 'ee when yu comes back."

"Coo'h! Bulls' eyes! Ay, mam? Good bye, Dad. Good bye, Mam. Bye, Mister
Ronals. Gimme a penny will 'ee?"

"God damn the child--that ever I should say it--get 'long