The Story of the Rock | Page 5

after comin' 'ome?"
"I suppose 'e did."
"Ah then, he does something else sometimes, eh?"
Mrs Potter's reply was interrupted by Tommy himself emerging from a closet, which formed his workshop and in which he was at that time busy with a model of Winstanley's lighthouse, executed from the drawings and descriptions by his father, improved by his own brilliant fancy.
Four years make a marked difference on a boy in the early stage of life. He was now nearly ten, and well grown, both intellectually and physically, for his age.
"Well, Tommy, how d'ee git on wi' the light-'ouse?" asked his father.
"Pretty well, faither: but it seems to me that Mr Winstanley had too many stickin'-out poles, an' curlywurleys, an' things o' that sort about it."
"Listen to that now," said Mrs Potter, with a look of contempt, as they all sat down to supper: "what ever does the boy mean by curlywurleys?"
"You've seed Isaac Dorkin's nose, mother?"
"Of course I 'ave: what then?"
"Well, it goes in at the top and out at the middle and curls up at the end: that's curlywurley," said Tommy, with a grin, as he helped himself to a large potato.
"The boy is right, Martha," said John, laughing, "for a lighthouse should be as round an' as smooth as a ship's bow, with nothin' for wind or water to lay hold on. But now I'll tell 'ee of this noo situation."
Both mother and son looked inquiringly up, but did not speak, being too busy and hungry.
"Well, this is how it came about. I met Isaac Dorkin on my way to the docks this mornin', an' he says to me, says he, `John, I met a gentleman who is makin' very partikler inquiries about the Eddystone Rock: his name he says is Rudyerd, and he wants to hire a lot o' first-rate men to begin a new--'"
"A noo light'ouse!" exclaimed Mrs Potter, with sudden energy, bringing her fist down on the table with such force that the dishes rattled again. "I know'd it: I did. I've 'ad a settled conviction that if ever they begun to put up another 'ouse on that there rock, you would 'ave your finger in it! And now it'll be the old story over again: out in all weathers, gettin' yer limbs bruised, if yer neck ain't broke; comin' 'ome like a drownded rat, no regular hours or meals! Oh John, John!"
Mrs Potter stopped at this point to recover breath and make up her mind whether to storm or weep. Heaving a deep sigh she did neither, but went on with her supper in sad silence.
"Don't take on like that, duckey," said John, stretching his long arm across the table and patting his wife's shoulder. "It won't be so bad as that comes to, and it will bring steady work, besides lots o' money."
"Go on with the story, faither," said Tommy, through a potato, while his eyes glittered with excitement.
"It ain't a story, lad. However, to make it short I may come to the pint at once. Isaac got engaged himself and mentioned my name to Mr Rudyerd, who took the trouble to ferret me out in the docks and--and in fact engaged me for the work, which is to begin next week."
"Capital!" exclaimed Tommy. "Oh, how I wish I was old enough to go too!"
"Time enough, lad: every dog shall have his day, as the proverb says."
Mrs Potter said nothing, but sighed, and sought comfort in another cup of tea.
Meanwhile John continued his talk in an easy, off hand sort of way, between bite.
"This Mr Rudyerd, you must know (pass the loaf, Tommy: thank 'ee), is a Cornish man--and fine, straightforward, go-ahead fellows them Cornish men are, though I'm not one myself. Ah, you needn't turn up your pretty nose, Mrs Potter; I would rather have bin born in Cornwall than any other county in England, if I'd had my choice. Howsever, that ain't possible now. Well, it seems that Mr Rudyerd is a remarkable sort of man. He came of poor an' dishonest parents, from whom he runned away in his young days, an' got employed by a Plymouth gentleman, who became a true father to him, and got him a good edication in readin', writin', an' mathematics. Ah, Tommy, my son, many a time have I had cause for to regret that nobody gave me a good edication!"
"Fiddlesticks!" exclaimed Mrs Potter, rousing up at this. "You've got edication enough for your station in life, and a deal more than most men in the same trade. You oughtn't for to undervally yourself, John. I'd back you against all your acquaintance in the matter of edication, I would, so don't talk any more nonsense like that."
Mrs Potter concluded by emphatically stabbing a potato with her fork, and beginning to peel it.
John smiled sadly and shook his