Part 32 (1/2)

”It aren't nonsense, Master Luke Vine, and you know it. You want your bed made proper, and your was.h.i.+ng done, and your place scrubbed. Now why don't you let my gal come up every morning to do these things?”

”Look here,” said Uncle Luke, ”what is it you mean?”

”She's got into a sc.r.a.pe at Mr Vine's, sir--something about some money being missing--and I suppose she'll have to come home, so I want to get her something to do.”

”Oh, she isn't honest enough for my brother's house, but she's honest enough for mine.”

”Oh, the gal's honest enough. It's all a mistake. But I can't afford to keep her at home, so, seeing as we'd had dealings together, I thought you'd oblige me and take her here.”

”Seeing as we'd had dealings together!” grumbled Uncle Luke.

”Everything is so untidy-like, sir,” said the old fish-dealer, looking round. ”Down at your brother's there's everything a gentleman could wish for, but as to your place--why, there: it's worse than mine.”

”Look here, Poll Perrow,” said the old eccentricity fiercely, ”this is my place, and I do in it just as I like. I don't want your girl to come and tidy my place, and I don't want you to come and bother me, so be off. There's a letter; take it down and post it for me: and there's a penny for your trouble.”

”Thank ye, master. Penny saved is a penny got; but Mr George Vine would have given me sixpence--I'm not sure he wouldn't have given me a s.h.i.+lling. Miss Louise would.”

Uncle Luke was already pointing at the door, towards which the woman moved unwillingly.

”Let me come up to-morrow and ask you, Mr Luke, sir. Perhaps you'll be in a better temper then.”

”Better temper!” he cried wrathfully. ”I'm always in a better temper.

Because I refuse to ruin myself by having your great, idle girl to eat me out of house and home, I'm not in a good temper, eh? There, be off!

or I shall say something unpleasant.”

”I'm a-going, sir. It's all because I wouldn't buy half a fish, as I should have had thrown on my hands, and been obliged to eat myself.

Look here, sir,” cried the woman, as she adjusted the strap of her basket, ”if I buy the bit of fish will you take the poor gal then?”

”No!” cried Uncle Luke, slamming the door, as the woman stood with her basket once more upon her back.

”Humph!” exclaimed the old woman, as she thrust the penny in her pocket, and then hesitated as to where she should place the letter.

While she was considering, the little window was opened and Uncle Luke's head appeared.

”Mind you don't lose that letter.”

”Never you fear about that,” said the old woman; and as if from a bright inspiration she pitched it over her head into her basket, and then trudged away.

”She'll lose that letter as sure as fate,” grunted Uncle Luke. ”Well, there's nothing in it to mind. Now I suppose I can have a little peace, and--Who's this?”

He leaned a little farther out of his window, so as to bring a curve of the cliff-path well into view.

”My beautiful nephew and that parasite. Going up to Leslie, I suppose-- to smoke. Waste and debauchery--smoking.”

He shut the window sharply, and settled himself down with his back to it, determined not to see his nephew pa.s.s; but five minutes later there was a sharp rapping at the door.

”Uncle Luke! Uncle!”

The old man made no reply.