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"There, there, Chowne," said my father, taking pity upon me, "boys will be boys. I daresay your chap was just as bad as mine, and old Uggleston's baby quite their equal." "They lead my Bob into all the mischief," cried the Doctor sharply. "Oh, no doubt, no doubt," said my father in his driest way. "And I should like to know as near as I can when it's to come to an end?"
All but what?" "He spoke once, father, as if he did not like your having bought the Gap." "Hah! Very likely; but then you see, Sep, I did not consider myself bound to ask everybody's permission when I was at the sale, much more Mr Jonas Uggleston's, so there's an end of that."
Been along the coast?" cried Bigley, striding up to him; and there was just a faint kind of smile on Jonas Uggleston's face as his son shook hands and then took his arm in a way that seemed to come like a surprise to me, for it seemed so curious that my school-fellow Bigley could like that fierce, common-looking man. "Hallo, Big!" growled old Jonas grimly, "keeping your holidays then.
There were the two cottages Binnacle Bill's, with some newly washed white garments hanging over the rocks; and Jonas Uggleston's, with its stone sheds and outbuildings bristling with spars and wreck-wood that had been thrown up, and with nets and sails spread out to dry.
We did not go over that afternoon till it was growing late, for my father had a number of letters to write, and when we did go along the cliff, and reached the descent to the Gap, to our surprise there lay Jonas Uggleston's lugger, and we knew he had come home. "Hah!" ejaculated my father after drawing a long breath. "I shall have to speak at once. He does not seem to have landed yet."
And here I ought to say that her name was Ellen Levan, only, when I was a tiny little fellow after my mother died, she used to nurse me, and in my childish prattle I somehow got in the habit of calling her Kicksey, and the name became so fixed that my father never spoke of her as Ellen; while our Sam, who was an amphibious being, half fisherman, half gardener, with a mortal hatred of Jonas Uggleston's Bill Binnacle, and the doctor's man, always called her Missers Kicksey and nothing else.
These pauses took up a good deal of time, so that it was about one o'clock when we reached Uggleston's cottage, and, as it happened, just as its tenant was coming up from his boat, having just landed from some expedition along the coast.
Who've you got here? Oh! It's you, young Chowne, is it? Ah! I was coming over to see your father 'bout my foot as I got twisted 'tween two bits o' rock jumping; but it's got better now. Home from school?" "Yes, sir; we came home yesterday," said Bob, staring hard at old Uggleston's mahogany hands. "And who's this, eh?
Sometimes we talked in a low voice about how uncomfortable some people would be about us, and Bob said it was like my luck that I had my father with me, while his and Bigley Uggleston's would be in a terrible way. "And a nice row there'll be about it," he said dolefully. "There never was such an unlucky chap as I am." "And Big?" "Oh, Big! Pooh! His father never takes any notice about him."
It was of no use to argue with Bob that morning, as we three ran down to the shore after finding that old Uggleston's lugger was at sea, crushing the weed under our feet, and enjoying the curious salt smell that ascended to our nostrils. We had another net, and a big basket, borrowed of our Sam.
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