A Sailors Lass | Page 7

and fetch her."
"I said her mother or father," interrupted Coomber, sharply; "but if
they're dead, there ain't anybody else likely to want such a little 'un, and
so we may keep her, I take it. But Peters shall go to the newspaper man,
never fear," added Coomber; "I don't want to rob anybody of the little
'un; but if nobody don't come in a week, why then, Mary----" and
Coomber paused, and looked at his wife.
"Well, then, I'll get out little Polly's things; they'll just about fit her,"

said Mrs. Coomber, hastily wiping her eyes with her apron for fear her
husband should reproach her again for her tears.
When the boys came in, the little girl said, shyly, "Tome and tell me
about the nets."
Dick looked at her, and then 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