A Loose End | Page 2

himself upright when on one foot, so that
his whole person turned first to one side and then to the other as he
walked.
"Marie!" he called to the girl as she alighted at the bottom of the cliff,
and he shouted something briefly which the strange jargon in which it
was spoken and the gruff, wind-roughened voice of the speaker, would
have made unintelligible to any but a native of the islands.
The girl, without replying, took the basket of fish which he handed her,
slung it on her back by a rope passed over one shoulder, and stationed
herself at the foot of the path, waiting for him to begin the ascent: the
younger man, who was busy with the tackle of the boat, apparently
intending to stay behind.
When the old man had placed himself in position to begin the ascent,
with both hands on the rope, and all his weight on one leg, the girl
stooped down, and placing her lithe hands round his great wet

fisherman's boot, deftly lifted the other foot and placed it in the right
position on the first ledge of rock.
"Now, Daddy, hoist away!" she cried in her clear, piping voice, using,
like her father, the island dialect; and he dragged himself up to the first
iron hold, wriggling his large, awkward form into strange contortions,
till he found a secure position and could wait till his young assistant
was beside him once more. She sprang up like a cat and balanced
herself safely within reach of him. It was odd to see the implicit
confidence with which he let her lift and place his feet; having now to
support herself by the rope she had only one hand to spare; but the feat
was accomplished each time with the same precision and skill, till the
precipitous part of the ascent was passed and they had commenced the
zigzag path.
Then Marie took her daddy's arm under hers, and carefully steadied the
difficult, ricketty gait, supporting the heavy figure with a practised skill
which took the place of strength in her slight frame. Her features were
formed after the same pattern as his, the definite profile, tense
spreading nostril, and firm lips, being repeated with merely feminine
modifications; and as her clear, merry eyes, freshened by the sea-breeze,
flashed with fun at the stumblings and uncertainties of their course,
they met the same expression of mirth in his hard-set, rocky face.
"You've got a rare job, child!" said he, as they stood still for breath at a
turning in the path, "a basket of fish to lug up, as well as your old
daddy. He'd ought to have brought them as far as the turning for you."
"I'd sooner have their company than his, any day," with a little moue in
the direction of the cove. "I just wish you wouldn't take him out fishing
with you, Daddy, that I do!"
"Why not, girl?"
"It's he as works for himself and cares for himself and for no one else,
does Pierre," said the girl. "Comin' a moonin' round and pretending he's
after courting me, when all he wants, with takin' the fish round and that,
is to get the custom into his own hands, and tells folks, if he had the

ordering of it, there'd be no fear about them getting their fish punctual."
"Tells 'em that, does he?" said the father, his sea-blue eyes suddenly
clouding over.
"That he does; and says he'd take up the inshore fishing, if he'd the
money to spend: and they should be supplied regular with crabs and
shrimps and such; and then drops a word that poor André he's gettin'
old, and what with being lame, and one thing and another, what can
you expect, and such blathers!"
"Diable! Do you know that for certain, child?" said André, stopping in
the path, and turning round upon her with a face ablaze with anger. "I
should like to hear him sayin' that, I should."
"Now, Daddy," she cried with a sudden change of tone, "don't you be
getting into one of your tantrums with him. Don't, there's a dear Daddy!
I only told you, so you shouldn't be putting too much into his hands.
But he'd be the one that would come best out of a quarrel. He's only
looking for a chance of doin' you a mischief, it's my belief."
"H'm! 'Poor André a gettin' old,' is he?" grunted her father, somewhat
calmed. "Poor André won't be takin' him out with him again just yet
awhile--that's a certain thing. Paul Nevin would suit me a deal better in
many ways, only I' bin keepin' Pierre on out o' charity, his pore father
havin' bin a pal o' mine. But he's a deal stronger in the