Michael Penguyne | Page 8

You have
more than enough to do, it seems to me, for a small fellow like you."
"I am able to do it," answered Michael; "and I am thankful that I can."
"You live hard, though, and your father grows no richer," observed
Eban. "If he did as others do, and as my father has advised him many a
time, he would be a richer man, and you and your sister and Aunt
Lanreath would not have to toil early and late, and wear the life out of
you as you do. I hope you will be wiser."
"I know my father is right, whatever he does, and I hope to follow his
example," answered Michael, unstepping the mast, which he let fall on
his shoulder preparatory to carrying it up to the shed.
"I was going to take that up," said Eban; "it is too heavy for you by
half."
"It is my duty, thank you," said Michael, somewhat coldly, stepping on
shore with his burden.
Slight as he looked, he carried the heavy spar up the pathway and
deposited it against the side of the house. He was returning for the
remainder of the boat's gear, when he met Eban with it on his
shoulders.
"Thank you," he said; "but I don't want to give you my work to do."
"It's no labour to me," answered Eban. "Just do you go and turn in, and
I will moor the boat and make a new set of `tholes' for you."
Again Michael begged that his friend would not trouble himself,
adding--
"If you have brought the shells for Nelly and will leave them with me, I
will give them to her when she comes home."

Nothing he could say, however, would induce Eban to go away. The
latter had made up his mind to remain till Nelly's return.
Still Michael was not to be turned from his purpose of doing his own
work, though he could not prevent Eban from assisting him; and not till
the boat was moored, and her gear deposited in the shed, would he
consent to enter the cottage and seek the rest he required.
Meantime Eban, returning to his punt, shaped out a set of new tholes as
he proposed, and then set off up the hill, hoping to meet Nelly and her
grandmother.
He must have found them, for after some time he again came down the
hill in their company, talking gaily, now to one, now to the other. He
was evidently a favourite with the old woman.
Nelly thanked him with a sweet smile for the shells, which he had
collected in some of the sandy little bays along the coast, which neither
she nor Michael had ever been able to visit.
She was about to invite him into, the cottage, when Michael appeared
at the door, saying, with a sad face--
"O granny! I am so thankful you are come; father seems very bad, and
groans terribly. I never before saw him in such a way, and have not
known what to do."
Nelly on this darted in, and was soon by Paul's bedside, followed by
her grandmother.
Eban lingered about outside waiting. Michael at length came out to him
again.
"There is no use waiting," he said; and Eban, reluctantly going down to
his boat, pulled away up the harbour.
CHAPTER THREE.

Paul continued to suffer much during the evening; still he would not
have the doctor sent for. "I shall get better maybe soon, if it's God's will,
though such pains are new to me," he said, groaning as he spoke.
The storm which had been threatening now burst with unusual strength.
Michael, with the assistance of Nelly and her grandmother, got in the
nets in time.
All hope of doing anything on the water for that night, at all events,
must be abandoned; the weather was even too bad to allow Michael to
fish in the harbour.
Little Nelly's young heart was deeply grieved as she heard her father
groan with pain--he who had never had a day's illness that she could
recollect. Nothing the dame could think of relieved him.
The howling of the wind, the roaring of the waves as they dashed
against the rock-bound coast, the pattering of the rain, and ever and
anon the loud claps of thunder which echoed among the cliffs, made
Nelly's heart sink within her. Often it seemed as if the very roof of the
cottage would be blown off. Still she was thankful that her father and
Michael were inside instead of buffeting the foaming waves out at sea.
If careful tending could have done Paul good he would soon have got
well. The old dame seemed to require no sleep, and she would scarcely
let either of her grandchildren