CHAPTER II.
A COUNTRY VISIT.
When Ralph had gone off to school again Mrs. Conway sat down to answerthe letter--by no means an easy task--and she sat with the paperbefore her for a long time before she began. At last, with an air ofdesperation, she dipped her pen into the ink and began:
"MY DEAR HERBERT PENFOLD: It is difficult to answer such a letter as yours--to say all one feels without saying too much; to express the gratitude with which one is full, but of which one feels that you do not desire the expression. First, a word as to the past. Now that it is irreparable, why should I not speak freely? We were the victims of a mistake! You were misled respecting me. I foolishly resented the line you took, failed to make sufficient allowances for your surroundings, and even doubted a love that seemed to me to be so easily shaken. Thus my pride was, perhaps, as much responsible for what happened as your too easy credence of tales to my disadvantage. At any rate, believe me that I have cherished no such feelings as those with which you credit me toward you. Now that I know the truth, I can only regret that your life has been, as you say, spoiled, by what can but be called a fatal misunderstanding.
"Next, I must thank you, although you make no allusion to it in your letter, for your kindness during past years. Of these, believe me, I never suspected that you were the author; and I need hardly say how deeply I have been touched at finding that the hand to which I and my boy owe so much is that of Herbert Penfold. Of this I will say no more. I leave you to picture my feelings and my gratitude. Also, most warmly I thank you for your intentions regarding my boy. He will be ready to come to you on Friday week. I suppose his best way will be to go by coach to London and then down to you, or he could take passage perhaps in a coaster. He is very fond of the sea.
"We had settled that he should enter the army; but of course I consider that nothing will be decided on this or any other point as to his future until I know your wishes on the matter. Lastly, dear Herbert, believe me that the news that you have given me concerning your state of health has caused me deep sorrow, and I earnestly hope and trust that the doctors may be mistaken in your case, that you may have a long life before you, and that life may be happier in the future than it has been in the past.
"I remain,
"Your grateful and affectionate
"MARY CONWAY."
A fortnight later Ralph Conway took his place on the outside of thecoach for London. As to the visit to this unknown friend of hismother, he anticipated no pleasure from it whatever; but at the sametime the journey itself was delightful to him. He had never during hisremembrance been further away from Dover than Canterbury; and the tripbefore him was in those days a more important one than a journey halfover Europe would be at the present time. In his pocket he carried apiece of paper, on which his mother had carefully written down theinstructions contained in the letter she had received in answer to herown from Herbert Penfold. Sewn up in the lining of his waistcoat werefive guineas, so that in case the coach was stopped by highwaymen, orany other misfortune happened, he would still be provided with fundsfor continuing his journey.
Under the seat was a small basket filled with sandwiches, and his headought to have been equally well filled with the advice his mother hadgiven him as to his behavior at Penfold Hall. As his place had beenbooked some days before, he had the advantage of an outside seat. Nextto him was a fat woman, who was going up to town, as she speedilyinformed her fellow-passengers, to meet her husband, who was captainof a whaler.
"I see in the _Gazette_ of to-day," she said, "as his ship wassignaled off Deal yesterday, and with this ere wind he will be up atthe docks to-morrow; so off I goes. He's been away nigh eighteenmonths; and I know what men is. Why, bless you, if I wasn't there tomeet him when he steps ashore, as likely as not he would meet withfriends and go on the spree, and I shouldn't hear of him for a week;and a nice hole that would make in his earnings. Young man, you arescrouging me dreadful! Can't you get a little further along."
"It seems to me, ma'am, that it is you who are scrouging me," Ralphreplied. "This rail is almost cutting into my side now."
"Well, we must live and let live!" the woman said philosophically."You may thank your stars nature hasn't made you as big as I am.Little people have their advantages. But we can't have everything ourown way. That's what I tells my Jim; he is always a-wanting to havehis own way. That comes from being a captain; but, as I tells him,it's only reasonable as he is captain on board his ship I should becaptain in my house. I suppose you are going to school?"
"No, I am not. My school is just over."
"Going all the way up to London?"
"Yes."
"That's a mercy," the woman said. "I was afraid you might be onlygoing as far as Canterbury, and then I might have got some big chap uphere who would squeeze me as flat as a pancake. Men is sounthoughtful, and seems to think as women can stow themselves awayanywheres. I wish you would feel and get your hand in my pocket, youngman. I can't do it nohow, and I ain't sure that I have got my keyswith me; and that girl Eliza will be getting at the bottles anda-having men in, and then there will be a nice to-do with the lodgers.Can't you find it? It is in the folds somewhere."
With much difficulty Ralph found the pocket-hole, and thrusting hishand in was able to reassure his neighbor by feeling among a mass ofodds and ends a bunch of keys.
"That's a comfort," the woman said. "If one's mind isn't at ease onecan't enjoy traveling."
"I wish my body was at ease," Ralph said. "Don't you think you couldsqueeze them a little on the other side and give me an inch or twomore room?"
"I will try," the woman said; "as you seem a civil sort of boy."
Whereupon she gave two or three heaves, which relieved Ralph greatly,but involved her in an altercation with her neighbor on the otherside, which lasted till the towers of Canterbury came in sight. Herethey changed horses at the Fountain Inn.
"Look here, my boy," the woman said to Ralph. "If you feel underneathmy feet you will find a basket, and at the top there is an emptybottle. There will be just time for you to jump down and get it filledfor me. A shilling's worth of brandy, and filled up with water. Thatgirl Eliza flustered me so much with her worritting and questionsbefore I started that I had not time to fill it."
Ralph jumped down and procured the desired refreshment, and was justin time to clamber up to his seat again when the coach started. Heenjoyed the rapid motion and changing scene much, but he was not sorrywhen--as evening was coming on--he saw ahead of him a dull mist, whichhis fellow-passenger told him was the smoke of London.
It was nine in the evening when the coach drove into the courtyard ofthe Bull Inn. The guard, who had received instructions from Mrs.Conway, at once gave Ralph and his box into the charge of one of theporters awaiting the arrival of the coach, and told him to take thebox to the inn from which the coach for Weymouth started in themorning. Cramped by his fourteen hours' journey Ralph had at firstsome difficulty in following his conductor through the crowded street,but the stiffness soon wore off, and after ten minutes walking hearrived at the inn.
The guard had already paid the porter, having received the money forthat purpose from Mrs. Conway; and the latter setting down the box inthe passage at once went off. Ralph felt a little forlorn, andwondered what he was to do next. But a minute later the landlady cameout from the bar.
"Do you want a bed?" she asked. "The porter should have rung the bell.I am afraid we are full, unless it has been taken beforehand. However,I will see if I can make shift somehow."
"I should be very much obliged if you can," Ralph said; "for I don'tknow anything about London, and am going on by the Weymouth coach inthe morning."
"Oh, might your name be Conway?"
"Yes, that is my name," Ralph said, surprised.
"Ah, then there is a bedroom taken for you. A gentleman came threedays ago and took it, saying it was for a young gent w
ho is goingthrough to Weymouth. Tom," she called, "take this box up to number 12.Supper is ready for you, sir. I dare say you would like a wash first?"
"That I should," Ralph replied, following the boots upstairs.
In a few minutes he returned, and a waiter directed him to thecoffee-room. In a short time a supper consisting of fish, a steak, andtea was placed before him. Ralph fell to vigorously, and the care thathad been bestowed by Mr. Penfold in securing a bedroom and orderingsupper for him greatly raised him in the boy's estimation; and helooked forward with warmer anticipations than he had hitherto done tohis visit to him. As goon as he had finished he went off to bed, andin a few minutes was sound asleep. At half-past six he was called, andafter a hearty breakfast took his seat on the outside of the Weymouthcoach.
Sitting beside him were four sailors, belonging, as he soon learned,to a privateer lying at Weymouth. They had had a long trip, and hadbeen some months at sea; and as their ship was to lie for a fortnightat Weymouth while some repairs were being done to her, they hadobtained a week's leave and had ran up to London for a spree. Weymouthduring the war did a brisk trade, and was a favorite rendezvous ofprivateers, who preferred it greatly to Portsmouth or Plymouth, wherethe risk of their men being pressed to make up the quota of someman-of-war just fitted out was very great.
The sailors were rather silent and sulky, at first at the cruise onland being nearly over, but after getting off the coach where itchanged horses they recovered their spirits, and amused Ralph greatlywith their talk about the various prizes they had taken, and one ortwo sharp brashes with French privateers. Toward evening they becamerather hilarious, but for the last two hours dozed quietly; the mansitting next to Ralph lurching against him heavily in his sleep, andswearing loudly when the boy stuck his elbow into his ribs to relievehimself of the weight. Ralph was not sorry, therefore, when at teno'clock at night the coach arrived at Weymouth. The landlord andservants came out with lanterns to help the passengers to alight, andthe former, as Ralph climbed down the side into the circle of light,asked:
"Are you Master Conway?"
"That's my name," Ralph replied.
"A bed has been taken for you, sir, and a trap will be over here atnine o'clock in the morning to take you to Penfold Hall."
Supper was already prepared for such passengers as were going to sleepin the hotel; but Ralph was too sleepy to want to eat, and had made agood meal when the coach stopped at six o'clock for twenty minutes toallow the passengers time for refreshments. At eight o'clock nextmorning he breakfasted. When he had finished the waiter told him thatthe trap had arrived a few minutes before, and that the horse had beentaken out to have a feed, but would be ready to start by nine. Ralphtook a stroll for half an hour by the sea and then returned. The trapwas at the door, and his trunk had already been placed in it. Thedriver, a man of twenty-three or twenty-four, was, as he presentlytold Ralph, stable-helper at Penfold Hall.
"I generally drive this trap when it is wanted," he said. "Thecoachman is pretty old now. He has been in the family well-nigh fiftyyears. He is all right behind the carriage-horses, he says, but hedoes not like trusting himself in a pair-wheel trap."
"How far is it?"
"A matter of fifteen miles. It would be a lot shorter if you had gotoff last night at the nearest point the coach goes to; but the mastertold the coachman that he thought it would be pleasanter for you tocome on here than to arrive there tired and sleepy after dark."
"Yes, it will much more pleasant," Ralph said. "The road was verydirty, and I should not like to arrive at a strange house with myclothes all covered with dust, and so sleepy that I could hardly keepmy eyes open, especially as I hear that Mr. Penfold's sisters arerather particular."
"Rather isn't the word," the driver said; "they are particular, and nomistake. I don't believe as the master would notice whether thecarriage was dirty or clean; but if there is a speck of dirt aboutthey are sure to spot it. Not that they are bad mistresses; but theylook about all right, I can tell you, pretty sharp. I don't say thatit ain't as well as they do, for the master never seems to care oneway or the other, and lets things go anyhow. A nice gentleman he is,but I don't see much of him; and he don't drive in the carriage notonce a month, and only then when he is going to the board ofmagistrates. He just walks about the garden morning and evening, andall the rest of the time he is shut up in the library with his books.It's a pity he don't go out more."
"Are there any families about with boys?" Ralph asked.
"Not as I knows of. None of then that ever comes to the Hall, anyhow.It's a pity there ain't some young ones there; it would wake the placeup and make it lively. It would give us a lot more work to do, I don'tdoubt; but we shouldn't mind that. I have heard it used to bedifferent in the old squire's time, but it has always been so as longas I can remember. I don't live at the house, but down at the village.Jones he lives over the stables; and there ain't no occasion to havemore than one there, for there's only the two carriage-horses andthis."
"How far is the sea from the house?"
"It's about half a mile to the top of the cliff, and a precious longclimb down to the water; but going round by Swanage--which is aboutthree miles--you can drive down close to the sea, for there are nocliffs there."
There was little more said during the drive. From time to time the manpointed out the various villages and country seats, and Ralph wonderedto himself how he should manage to pass the next three weeks. Itseemed that there would be nothing to do and no one to talk to. He hadalways been accustomed to the companionship of lots of boys of his ownage, and during the holidays there was plenty of sailing and fishing,so that time had never hung on his hands; the present prospecttherefore almost appalled him. However, he had promised his motherthat he would try to make the best of things; and he tried to assurehimself that after all three weeks or a month would be over at last.After an hour and a half's drive they passed through a lodge gate intoa park, and in a few minutes drew up at the entrance to Penfold Hall.An old servant came out.
"Will you come with me into the library, sir? Mr. Penfold is expectingyou. Your box will be taken up into your room."
Ralph felt extremely uncomfortable as he followed his conductor acrossa noble hall, floored with dark polished oak, and paneled with thesame material. A door opened, and a servant announced "Master Conway."A gentleman rose from his chair and held out his hand.
"I am glad to see you, Ralph Conway; and I hope your journey has beena pretty comfortable one. It is very good of you to come such a longdistance to pay me a visit."
"Mother wanted me to, sir," Ralph said honestly. "I don't think--" andhe stopped.
"You don't think you would have come of your own accord, Ralph? No,that is natural enough, my boy. At your age I am sure I should nothave cared to give up my holidays and spend them in a quiet houseamong strangers. However, I wanted to see you, and I am very glad youhave come. I am an old friend of your mother's, you know, and sodesired to make the acquaintance of her son. I think you are likeher," he said, putting his hand on Ralph's shoulder and taking him tothe window and looking steadily at him.
"Other people have said so, sir; but I am sure I can't see how Ican be like her a bit. Mother is so pretty, and I am sure I am notthe least bit in the world; and I don't think it's nice for a boy tobe like a woman."
This was rather a sore point with Ralph, who had a smooth soft facewith large eyes and long eyelashes, and who had, in consequence, beennicknamed "Sally" by his schoolfellows. The name had stuck to him inspite of several desperate fights, and the fact that in point ofstrength and activity he was fully a match for any boy of his own age;but as there was nothing like derision conveyed by it, and it wasindeed a term of affection rather, than of contempt, Ralph had at lastceased to struggle against it. But he longed for the time when thesprouting of whiskers would obliterate the obnoxious smoothness of hisface. Mr. Penfold had smiled at his remark.
"I do not like girlish boys, Ralph; but a boy can have a girlish faceand yet be a true bo
y all over. I fancy that's your case.
"I hope so, sir. I think I can swim or run or fight any of the chapsof my own age in the school; but I know I do look girlish about theface. I have done everything I could to make my face rough. I have satin the sun, and wetted it with sea-water every five minutes, but it'sno use."
"I should not trouble about it. Your face will get manly enough intime, you may be sure; and I like you all the better for it, my boy,because you are certainly very like your mother. And now, Ralph, Iwant you to enjoy yourself as much as you can while you are here. Thehouse itself is dull, but I suppose you will be a good deal out ofdoors. I have hired a pony, which will be here to-day from Poole, andI have arranged with Watson, a fisherman at Swanage, that you can goout with him in his fishing-boat whenever you are disposed. It isthree miles from here, but you can ride over on your pony and leave itat the little inn there till you come back. I am sorry to say I do notknow any boys about here; but Mabel Withers, the daughter of myneighbor and friend the clergyman of Bilston, the village just outsidethe lodge, has a pony, and is a capital rider, and I am sure she willshow you over the country. I suppose you have not had much to do withgirls?" he added with a smile at seeing a slight expression of dismayon Ralph's face, which had expressed unmixed satisfaction at the firstitems of the programme.
"No, sir; not much," Ralph said. "Of course some of my schoolfellowshave sisters, but one does not see much of them."
"I think you will get on very well together. She is a year or twoyounger than you are, and I am afraid she is considered rather atomboy. She has been caught at the top of a tall tree examining theeggs in a nest, and in many similar ungirl-like positions; so youwon't find her a dull companion. She is a great pet of mine, andthough she may not be as good a companion as a boy would be for you, Iam sure when you once get to know her you will find her a very goodsubstitute. You see, not having had much to do with boys, I am notvery good at devising amusement for you. I can only say that if thereis anything you would like to do while you are here you have only totell me, and if it be possible I will put you in the way of it."
"Thank you very much, sir. You are extremely kind," Ralph saidheartily; for with a pony and a boat it did seem that his visit wouldnot be nearly so dull as he had anticipated. "I am sure I shall get oncapitally."
Just at his moment there was a knock at the door. It opened, and agirl entered.
"You have just come at the right moment, Mabel," Mr. Penfold said asshe came in. "This is Ralph Conway, of whom I was speaking to you.Ralph, this is Mabel Withers. I asked her to come in early thismorning so as to act as your guide round the place."
The boy and girl shook hands with each other. She was the first tospeak.
"So you are Ralph. I have been wondering what you would be like. Unclehas been telling me you were coming. I like your looks, and I thinkyou are nice."
Ralph was taken rather aback. This was not the way in which hisschoolfellows' sisters had generally addressed him.
"I think you look jolly," he said; "and that's better than lookingnice."
"I think they mean the same thing," she replied; "except that a girlsays 'nice' and a boy says 'jolly.' I like the word 'jolly' best, onlyI get scolded when I use it. Shall we go into the garden?"
Altogether Ralph Conway had a very much pleasanter time than he hadanticipated. Except at meals he saw little of the Miss Penfolds. Hisopinion as to these ladies, expressed confidentially to Mabel Withers,was the reverse of flattering.
"I think," he said, "that they are the two most disagreeable old catsI have ever met. They hardly ever open their lips, and when they do itis only to answer some question of their brother. I remember in afairy story there was a girl who whenever she spoke let fall pearlsand diamonds from her lips; whenever those women open their mouths Iexpect icicles and daggers to drop out."
"They are not so bad as that," Mabel laughed. "I generally get on withthem very well, and they are very kind in the parish; and altogetherthey are really not bad."
"Then their looks belie them horribly," Ralph said. "I suppose theydon't like me; and that would be all well enough if I had doneanything to offend them, but it was just as bad the first day I came.I am sure Mr. Penfold does not like it. I can see him fidget on hischair; and he talks away with me pretty well all the time we are attable, so as to make it less awkward, I suppose. Well, I am stoppingwith him, and not with them, that's one thing; and it doesn't makemuch difference to me if they do choose to be disagreeable. I like himimmensely. He is wonderfully kind; but it would be awfully stupid workif it weren't for you, Mabel. I don't think I could stand it if itwere not for our rides together."
The young people had indeed got on capitally from the first. Every daythey took long rides together, generally alone, although sometimes Mr.Penfold rode with them. Ralph had already confided to the latter, uponhis asking him how he liked Mabel, that she was the jolliest girl thathe had ever met.
"She has no nonsensical girl's ways about her, Mr. Penfold; but isalmost as good as a boy to be with. The girls I have seen before havebeen quite different from that. Some of them always giggle when youspeak to them, others have not got a word to say for themselves; andit is awfully hard work talking to them even for a single dance.Still, I like them better than the giggling ones."
"You see, Ralph, girls brought up in a town are naturally different toone like Mabel. They go to school, and are taught to sit upright andto behave discreetly, and to be general unnatural. Mabel has beenbrought up at home and allowed to do as she liked, and she hasconsequently grown up what nature intended her to be. Perhaps some dayall girls will be allowed the same chance of being natural that boyshave, and backboards and other contrivances for stiffening them andturning them into little wooden figures will be unknown. It will be agood thing, in my opinion, when that time arrives."
Ralph was often down at the Rectory, where he was always made welcome,Mr. Withers and his wife being anxious to learn as much of hisdisposition as they could. They were well satisfied with the result.
"I fancy I know what is in Penfold's mind," the rector had said to hiswife a few days after Ralph came down. "I believe he has already quitesettled it in his mind that some day Mabel and this lad shall make amatch of it."
"How absurd, John. Why, Mabel is only a child."
"Quite so, my dear; but in another three or four years she will be ayoung woman. I don't mean that Penfold has any idea that they aregoing to take a fancy to each other at present--only that they will doso in the future. You know he has said that he intends to leave aslice of his fortune to her, and I have no doubt that this lad willget the main bulk of his property. I have often told you about hisengagement to the lad's mother, and how the breaking it off hasaffected his whole life. It is natural that a lonely man as _he_ isshould plan for others. He has no future of his own to look forwardto, so he looks forward to some one else's. He has had no interest inlife for a great many years, and I think he is making a new one forhimself in the future of our girl and this lad.
"As far as I have seen of the boy I like him. He is evidently astraightforward, manly lad. I don't mean to say that he has anyexceptional amount of brains, or is likely to set the Thames on fire;but if he comes into the Penfold property that will not be of muchimportance. He seems bright, good-tempered, and a gentleman. That isquite good enough to begin with. At any rate, there is nothing for usto trouble about. If some day the young people get to like each otherthe prospect is a good one for the child; if not, there's no harmdone. At present there can be no objection to our yielding toPenfold's request and letting them ride about the country together.Mabel is, as you say, little more than a child, and it is evident thatthe lad regards her rather in the light of a boy companion than as agirl.
"She is a bit of a tomboy, you know, Mary, and has very few girlishnotions or ideas. They evidently get on capitally together, and weneed not trouble our heads about them but let things go their own waywith a clear conscience."
At the end of the time agreed
upon Ralph returned home.
"And so, Ralph, you have found it better than you expected?" hismother said to him at the conclusion of his first meal at home.
"Much better, mother. Mr. Penfold is awfully kind, and lets one dojust what one likes. His sisters are hateful women, and if I had notbeen staying in the house I should certainly have played them sometrick or other just to pay them out. I wonder why they disliked me somuch. I could see it directly I arrived; but, after all, it didn'tmatter much, except just at meals and in the evening. But though Mr.Penfold was so kind, it would have been very stupid if it had not beenfor Mabel Withers. We used to ride out or go for walks together everyday. She was a capital walker, and very jolly--almost as good as aboy. She said several times that she wished she had been a boy, and Iwished so too. Still, of course, mother, I am very glad I am back.There is no place like home, you know; and then there are the fellowsat school, and the games, and the sea, and all sorts of things; andit's a horrid nuisance to think that I have got to go down thereregularly for my holidays. Still, of course, as you wish it, I will doso; and now that I know what it is like it won't be so bad anothertime. Anyhow, I am glad I have got another ten days before schoolbegins."
The following morning Ralph went down to the beach. "Why, MasterConway," an old fisherman said, "you are a downright stranger. I havemissed you rarely."
"I told you I was going away, Joe, and that I shouldn't get back untilthe holidays were nearly over."
"I know you did," the fisherman replied. "Still it does seem strangewithout you. Every time as I goes out I says to Bill, 'If Master Conwaywas at home he would be with us to-day, Bill. It don't seem no waysnatural without him.' And there's been good fishing, too, this season,first rate; and the weather has been just what it should be."
"Well, I am back now, Joe, anyhow; and I have got ten days beforeschool begins again, and I mean to make the most of it. Are you goingout to-day?"
"At four o'clock," the fisherman said. "Daylight fishing ain't muchgood just now; we take twice as many at night."
"No trouble with the Frenchies?"
"Lord bless you I ain't seen a French sail for months. Our cruisersare too sharp for them; though they say a good many privateers run inand out of their ports in spite of all we can do, and a lot of ourships get snapped up. But we don't trouble about them. Why, bless yourheart, if one of them was to run across us they would only just takeour fish, and as likely as not pay us for them with a cask or two ofspirits. Fish is a treat to them Frenchies; for their fishing boatshave to keep so close over to their own shores that they can't takemuch. Besides, all their best fishermen are away in the privateers,and the lads have to go to fight Boney's battles with the Austrians orRussians, or Spanish or our chaps, or else to go on board their shipsof war and spend all their time cooped up in harbor, for they scarceshow now beyond the range of the guns in their forts. Well, will youcome this evening?"
"Yes, I think so, Joe. My mother doesn't much care about my being outat night, you know; but as I have been away all this time to pleaseher, I expect she will let me do what I like for the rest of theholidays."
"Don't you come if your mother don't like it, Master Conway; there isnever no good comes of boys vexing their mothers. I have knownmisfortune to follow it over and over again. Boys think as they knowbest what's good for them; but they don't, and sooner or later theyare sure to own it to themselves."
"I shouldn't do it if I knew she really didn't like it, Joe; but Idon't think she does mind my going out with you at any time. She knowsshe can trust you. Beside, what harm could come of it? You never goout in very rough weather."
"Pretty roughish sometimes, Master Conway."
"Oh, yes, pretty rough; but not in a gale, you know. Beside, theHeartsease could stand a goodish gale. She is not very fast, you know,but she is as safe as a house."
"She is fast enough," the old fisherman said in an injured tone. "Butyou young gentlemen is never content unless a boat is heeling over,gunnel under, and passing everything she comes across. What's the goodof that ere to a fisherman? He goes out to catch fish, not to strainhis craft all over by running races against another. Now an hourfaster or slower makes no difference, and the Heartsease is fastenough for me, anyhow."
"No, she isn't, Joe. I have heard you use bad language enough whenanything overhauls and passes her on the way back to port."
"Ay, that may be," the fisherman admitted; "and on the way home Igrant you that a little more speed might be an advantage, for thefirst comer is sure to get the best market. No, the Heartsease ain'tvery fast, I own up to that; but she is safe and steady, and she hasplenty of storage room and a good roomy cabin as you can stand uprightin, and needn't break your back by stooping as you have to do on boardsome craft I could name."
"That's true enough, Joe," the boy said.
"But what's more, she's a lucky boat; for it's seldom that she goesout without getting a good catch."
"I think that's more judgment than luck, Joe; though there may be someluck in it too."
"I don't know about that, Master Conway. Of course one wants a sharpeye to see where the shoals are moving; but I believes in luck. Well,sir, shall I see you again before the afternoon?"
"I don't much expect so, Joe. I have got to call at some other places,and I don't suppose I shall have time to get down before. If I amcoming I shall be sure to be punctual; so if I am not here by four, gooff without me."
Mrs. Conway made no objection when Ralph proffered his request. He hadsacrificed the greater part of his holidays to carrying out herwishes, and paying a visit to Mr. Penfold; and although she did notlike his being out all night fishing, she could not refuse hisrequest; and, indeed, as she knew that Joe Knight was a steady man andnot fond of the bottle, there was no good reason why she shouldobject. She, therefore, cheerfully assented, saying at the same time,"I will pack a basket for you before you start, Ralph. There is a nicepiece of cold meat in the house, and I will have that and a loaf ofbread and some cheese put up for you. I know what these fishingexcursions are; you intend to be back at a certain time, and then thewind falls, or the tide turns, or something of that sort, and youcan't make the harbor. You know what a fright you gave me the veryfirst time you went out fishing with Joe Knight. You were to have beenback at five o'clock in the afternoon, and you did not get in untilthree o'clock the next morning."
"I remember, mother; and there you were on the quay when we came in. Iwas awfully sorry about it."
"Well, I have learned better since, Ralph; and I know now that thereis not necessarily any danger, even if you don't come back by the timeI expect you. And of course each time I have fidgeted and you havecome back safe, I have learned a certain amount of sea-knowledge, andhave come to know that sailors and fishermen are not accountable fortime; and that if the wind drops or tide turns they are helpless inthe matter, and have only to wait till a breeze comes up again."
"I think, mother, you ought to like my going out at night better thanin the daytime."
"Why, Ralph?"
"Because, mother, if I go out in the daytime and don't get back untilafter dark, you worry yourself, and having no one to talk to, sit herewondering and wondering until you fancy all sorts of things. Now, if Igo out in the evening, and I don't come back in the morning at thehour you expect, you see that it is fine and bright, and that there isnothing to make you uneasy; or if you do feel fidgety, you can walkdown to the beach and talk to the boatmen and fishermen, and of coursethey can tell you at once that there's nothing to worry about, andvery likely point the boat out to you in the distance."
"Well, Ralph, perhaps that is so, although I own I never looked at itin that light before."