A Sailors Lass | Page 7

at his mother.
"What does she mean?" he asked, drawing near the little bed where Tiny lay.
"She wants to know about the fishing," said Mrs. Coomber. "Have you had a good take, Dick?" asked his mother, rather anxiously, for she wanted some more milk for Tiny, and her little secret store of halfpence was gone now.
"Oh, it ain't much," said Dick; "Bob has taken a few plaice to Fellness, and I dessay he'll bring back some bread or some flour."
"But I want some milk for the child; she can't eat bread and fish and potatoes now she's ill. Couldn't you run up to the farm, Dick, and ask Mrs. Hayes if she wants a bit o' fish, and I'll be thankful for a drop o' milk for it."
But Dick looked dubious. "I'd like to go," he said, "if it was only to have a word with Harry Hayes, and ask him about his rabbits; but father don't like the farm people now, and he said I was never to speak to them. You know they've had a quarrel."
"Well, what are we to do? They are our only neighbours, and they ain't a bad sort either, Mrs. Hayes is a kind soul, who has children of her own, and would let me have milk in a minute if she knew I wanted it for this poor little mite," said Mrs. Coomber, in perplexity as to the best thing to do.
"I'll go, mother, if you can find any fish worth taking," at last said Dick.
Mrs. Coomber went and turned over what the boys had brought. The best had been picked out and sent to Fellness, and what was left was not more than sufficient for themselves; but she carefully looked out the largest she could find and washed it. While she was doing this her husband came in.
"It's a poor take to-day, mother," he said.
"Yes, and I wanted a bit extra, to get some milk for the child," said Mrs. Coomber; "but I think I can manage with this," she said, still busying herself with the fish, and not turning to look at her husband.
"What are yer goin' to do wi' it?" he inquired.
"I want to send Dick up to the farm; Mrs. Hayes will give me some milk for it, I know," replied his wife, trying to speak in a matter-of-fact tone.
[Illustration: "'ME LIKES 'OU,' SHE SAID." (See page 40.)]
"And you'd send Dick to that place when I said they shouldn't go near the house," said her husband, angrily. "Take the fish and cook it for supper. Not a bit o' my fish shall they have."
"But the milk. What am I to do for the milk for the child now she's ill?"
"What have yer done afore?" demanded her husband; and the poor woman was obliged to confess that she had taken milk from the man as he went past in his cart to the village each day since the child had been there. "She couldn't do wi'out milk," protested Mrs. Coomber.
"How do you know she couldn't?" said her husband. "What business have you to spend money for milk--what business have you wi' money at all?" he inquired, suspiciously; for he saw in this wastefulness a cause for the recent strange scarcity of whisky; and he felt he had been deeply wronged. His quarrel with Hayes had also been disregarded, and this made him further angry with his wife, and he strictly charged her never to have any more dealings with any of the farm people.
"We can live very well without milk," he said. "I will feed the little 'un, and you'll see she can eat fish and bread as well as the rest of us."
It was useless for Mrs. Coomber to protest against this; she knew if her husband made up his mind to do anything he would do it; but she almost dreaded supper-time coming, for she could not tell how Tiny would like the proposed change in her nurse and diet.
But as it happened the little girl was very pleased to be lifted out of bed and seated on Coomber's knee at the table.
"Me likes 'ou," she said, patting his cheek with her little white hand; and she ate the fish and bread as though she was quite used to such food.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER III.
TINY'S HOPE.
The slant rays of the setting sun lay on the wide stretch of level sand surrounding Bermuda Point, for the tide was out, and had left it smooth, or slightly rippled as with tiny wavelets. Standing at the very edge of the sands, with her eyes shaded, and her clothes blowing round her bare legs, was a little fair-haired girl. She was slender and delicate-looking still, in spite of the sun-browned arms and face. Months had passed, but Tiny was still at the Point.
She stood gazing seawards