Cutlass and Cudgel Part 5

"Yes, father."

"And see if there's any eggs to take too."

"Yes, father. But--"

"Well?"

"Think the lugger will come to-night?"

"No, I don't think anything, and don't you. Will you keep that rattle tongue of yours quiet? Never know me go chattering about luggers, do you?"

"No, father."

"Then set your teeth hard, or you'll never be a man worth your salt.

Want to grow into a Jemmy Dadd?"

"No, father."

"Then be off."

The boy went off at a run, and the fisher-farmer led his horse along the two rutted tracks till he came down into the valley, and then went on and on, towards where a couple of men were at work in a field, doing nothing with all their might.

CHAPTER FOUR.

Ramillies--commonly known by his father's men as Ram--Shackle trotted up over the hill, stopping once to flop down on the gra.s.s to gaze at the cutter, lying a mile out now from the sh.o.r.e, and thinking how different she was with her trim rigging and white sails to the rough lugger of his father, and the dirty three-masted vessels that ran to and fro across the Channel, and upon which he had more than once taken a trip.

He rose with a sigh, and continued his journey down into the hollow, and along a regular trough among the hills, to the low, white-washed stone building, roofed with thin pieces of the same material, and gaily dotted and splashed with lichen and moss.

He was met by a comfortable-looking, ruddy-faced woman, who shouted,--"What is it, Ram?" when he was fifty yards away.

The boy stated his errand.

"Father says you were to take all that?"

"Yes."

"Then there's a cargo coming ash.o.r.e to-night, Ram."

"Yes, mother, and the cutter's lying a mile out."

"Oh, dear, dear, dear!" cried the woman; "I hope there won't be no trouble, boy."

She stood wiping her dry hands upon her ap.r.o.n, and gazed thoughtfully with wrinkled brow straight before her for a minute, as if conjuring up old scenes; then, taking down a basket as she moved inside, she began to pack up the various things in the dairy, while Ram looked on.

"Father didn't say anything about a bottle of cream, mother," said the boy, grinning.

"Then hear, see, and say nothing, my lad," cried his mother.

"And I don't think he said you was to send that piece of pickled pork, mother."

"He said chickens, didn't he?"

"Said a chickun."

"Chicken means chickens," cried Mrs Shackle, "and you can't eat chicken without pork or bacon. 'Tisn't natural."

"Father said two rolls of b.u.t.ter."

"Yes, and I've put three. There, these are all the eggs I've got, and you mind you don't break 'em!"

"Oh, I say, mother," cried Ram, "aren't it heavy!"

"Nonsense! I could carry it on my finger; there, run along like a good boy, and you must ask for her ladyship, and be very respectful, and say, Mother's humble duty to you, my lady, and hopes you won't mind her sending a bit o' farm fare."

"But she ought to be thankful to us, mother?"

"And so she will be, Ram?"

"But you make me speak as though we were to be much obliged to her for taking all these good things."

"You take the basket, and hold your tongue. Father's right, you chatter a deal too much."

Ram took the basket, grunted because it was so heavy, and then set off up the hill-slope towards where the patch of thick woodland capped one side of the deep valley, and at last came in sight of a grim-looking stone house, with its windows for the most part covered by their drawn-down blinds. Under other circ.u.mstances, with fairly kept gardens and trim borders, the old-fashioned building, dating from the days of Henry the Seventh, would have been attractive enough, with its background of trees, and fine view along the valley out to the far-stretching blue sea; but poverty seemed to have set its mark upon the place, and the boy was so impressed by the gloomy aspect of the house, that he ceased whistling as he went across the front, outside the low wall, and round to the back, where his progress was stopped by the scampering of feet, and a dog came up, barking loudly.

"Get out, or I'll jump on you--d'ye hear?" said Ram fiercely.

"Down, Grip, down!" cried a pleasant voice, and a girl of fifteen came running out, looking bright and animated with her flushed cheeks and long hair.

"Don't be afraid of him, Ram; he will not bite."

"I'm not afraid of him, Miss Celia; if he'd tried to bite me, I'd have kicked him into the back-garden."

"You would not dare to," cried the girl indignantly.

"Oh yes, I would," said Ram, showing his white teeth. "Wouldn't do for me to be 'fraid of no dogs."

The girl half turned away, but her eye caught the basket.

"What's that you came to sell?" she said.

"Sell? I don't come to sell. Father and mother sent this here. It's b.u.t.ter, and chickuns, and pork, and cream, and eggs."

"Oh!" cried the girl joyously, "my mother will be so--"

She stopped short, remembering sundry lessons she had received, and the tears came up into her eyes as she felt that she must be proud and not show her delight at the receipt of homely delicacies to which they were strangers.

"Take your basket to the side door, and deliver your message to Keziah,"