Part 77 (2/2)

”Very well, Master Luke, sir, I'm going now,” said the woman, as she adjusted the strap across her forehead; ”but you won't be so hard as to speak to the coastguard. Don't sir, please.”

The woman spoke in a low, appealing way, and after trying in vain to catch Luke Vine's eye, she went slowly up the hill.

”Bad lot--a bad family,” muttered Uncle Luke uneasily, as he glanced sharply up at Leslie from time to time. ”Good thing to rid the place of the hag. Begging at my brother's place for food and things every time I've been there. Yes. Good morning, Leslie, good morning.”

He nodded shortly and went into the cottage, cutting short all further attempts at being communicative.

Leslie walked steadily back up the hill to his works, and had not been at his office five minutes before Poll Perrow's basket was creaking outside.

”I know you won't be so gashly hard on a poor woman, Master Leslie,” she said. ”It arn't true about me getting brandy, sir. Let me have a drop in the bottom of a bottle, sir. You'll never miss it, and you don't know what good you'll do a poor soul as wants it bad.”

”Look here,” said Leslie, ”I'll give you some on one condition; that you do not come here again to beg.”

”Not if I can help it, sir; but a well-off gentleman like you will never miss a drop. A pint will be plenty, sir, in as small a bottle as you can.”

Leslie could not help laughing at the woman's impudence, but he said nothing, only went into the house and returned with a pint bottle filled with the potent spirit.

”And bless you for it, Master Leslie!” cried Poll Perrow, with her eyes sparkling. ”Now, sir, only one little thing more.”

”No,” said Leslie, sternly. ”I have given you what you asked; now go.”

”I only want you to put in a word for me to Master Luke, sir. Don't let him speak to the coastguard.”

”Don't be alarmed; the old man is too good-hearted to do anything of the kind. But I should advise you to give up all such practices. There: good-day.”

”Good-day, and bless you, my son!” cried Poll eagerly. ”I shan't forget this.”

”I was foolish to give it to her,” said Leslie to himself, as he watched the woman's slowly retiring figure; and then he turned his eyes in the direction of the Vines', as it stood peaceful and bright-looking on its shelf by the cliff, across the intervening valley.

”Might venture to-night. Surely they would not think it intrusive?

Yes: I will.”

Duncan Leslie felt better after coming to this determination, and went busily about his work at the mine.

Poll Perrow went straight down into the little town and then up the path at the back, trudging steadily along and at a very good pace, till she saw about fifty yards in front a figure going in the same direction.

”Miss Madlin!” she said to herself. ”I'd know her walk anywhere. And all in black, too. Ah!”

Poll Perrow stopped short with her mouth open.

”How horrid!” she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. ”It killed him then, after all. Poor Master Van Heldre! Poor Master Harry Vine!”

She rubbed a tear away with her rough brown hand. Then starting up, she made the mussels in her basket rattle.

”What nonsense!” she said. ”Why, Master Crampton told me last night, and down the street, that Master Van Heldre was much better, and he couldn't ha' died and Miss Madlin gone in mourning since last night.

They couldn't ha' got the gownd made.”

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